Hellhammer "apocalyptic raids"

The first time I heard #hellhammer was around 1987.  A friend had given me a cassette with this album on one side and Onslaught "power from hell" on the flip (a great album in its own right).  I LOVED this Hellhammer album right from the first listen.  I've read accounts of how despised this band was upon it's release.  I'm always a little surprised.  Yeah, it's primitive and borders on cheesy in it's desire to be evil as hell.  I think the thing that sells it though is the sincerity of artistic focus.  The album exists solely as an honest statement, it is not derivitive and I believe that resonates with those of us who love this shit.  I was talking about "true metal" with one of my co-workers yesterday and I believe that there is no truer metal than this.  It is heavy metal distilled down to it's concentrated essence.  Leather, spikes, long hair, double bass drums and smear distorted riffs.  There's no pandering to non-metal.  The music is singular in it's appeal.  That purity is what I freaking love about this album.  As an album I actually prefer the follow up Celtic Frost's "morbid tales" but as a statement of extreme heavy metalness I believe this album is unprecedented.

Steppenwolf "16 greatest hits "

I've always had a love affair with motorcycles.  I had Evel Knievel toys as a kid, I remember some psychedelic chopper children's book I used to check out of my elementary school library repeatedly (I've searched repeatedly for that book but have been unable to find it with such little clues)  I watched "easy rider" as a teenager and fantasized of the rebellious freedom. In high school I read Robert M. Pirsig's "zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance" and it literally changed my internal wiring. I've read a trio of books more than three times each in my life. Pirsig's "zen..." Tolkien's "lord of the rings" (I count it as one book.) and Herman Hesse's "steppenwolf".  Those three books have resonated with me over and over.  I discovered the band #steppenwolf while watching "easy rider", it wasn't for a few years I discovered the book the stole their name from.  I bought a cassette of "16 hits" in high school smack dab in my heavy metal phase.  I was also into Pink Floyd's "the wall" at that time.  There was something hesher-historic about the band (they did coin the phrase "heavy metal thunder") and I really loved the collection of songs.  When I finally started riding motorcycles I found "born to be wild" was consistently my inner-soundtrack.  I realise how cliche that is.  I'm not ashamed of it.  My love of motorcycles is a conundrum for me: I realise how dangerous they are. My father was killed on one.  My wife works as a nurse in the er of a hospital.  She was fearful every summer seeing the parade of maimed motorcyclists. I gave mine up because it became an issue to ride with my obligations to my small children and storage of beloved metal steed.  I long for another bike.  When the kids are older I'll get another.  The warmer months are painful for me.  Hearing bikes and seeing them on open country roads calls to me like a siren.  I can't wait to have that steppenwolf song stuck in my head again as I use all of my senses to navigate and manipulate another bike.

Jawbreaker "unfun"

In 1991 I somehow landed a copy of the "Hardcore Breakout" compilation.  It introduced me to two of my all-time favorite bands: Samiam and #jawbreaker . I rarely, if ever purchase compilation CDs anymore but there was a time that this format was how I discovered bands.  I could rattle off a dozen discs I purchased from strong appearances on compilations and split 7"s.  I was turned on to jawbreaker at first because of the tonality and style of the vocals (actually that's what turned me on to samiam too, but in a different way)  I ordered this disc (still the original) directly from the label through an ad in Maximum Rock n'Roll.  I remember I sent cash folded into some drawings.  The dude from the label included a note saying the drawings were awesome when I received this cd.  It was a very encouraging moment and actually bolstered my artistic efforts. I don't remember what I sent and I could have sworn I tucked that note inside this cd booklet but it's not there and I'm pretty bummed.  With every release Jawbreaker got better but this first album still holds a dear (you) place in my heart.  The song "fine day" made its way onto mix tapes I made for years.   It was just announced that the band is reuniting for the first time in 21 years (fuck, I bought this cd and have been carting it around for 27 years.  I'm old).  They have announced a single festival date that I probably won't be able to attend (though I really really want to)  I really hope the band can hold it together for at least a tour and maybe, dare I hope, a new album. I've followed all the band members since the breakup and bought their subsequent discs but I'd love the alchemy of Jawbreaker to release some more songs.  And Fugazi, if you're reading this: we need you too.

Portal "swarth"

There aren't many bands than can unnerve me with a live performance. #portal is one of them.  A friend accompanied me to a metal show at the Mohawk Place in Buffalo.  We were excited to see black metallers Krallice and didn't really know anything about the other bands on the bill.  The club was not packed but the people that were there were all into the fringes of metal.  I had heard rumblings that dude who runs Profound Lore records was there (impeccable metal record label, you can throw a dart at their catalog and hit an awesome album) so we started getting excited about the show.  I did my customary trip to the merch tables.   I love when bands bring stuff by other bands, like a travelling underground record store.  I bought CDs by everyone on the bill (including this one ) and started drinking cheap beer at the bar.  While I am a beer snob there is something mystical about metal (and punk) shows that makes cheap beer not only palatable but actually desirable.  So we watched the band's plow through their sets and were enjoying the evening  (and getting rather drunk) when the headliners Portal finally took the stage.  All of the lights were turned off except for two red bulbs, the band took the stage dressed all in black with black sacks over their heads and large nooses tied around their necks.  The kicked into a blackened noise of arpeggio riffs and the vocalist took the stage in a black pope's outfit with a sheer opaque black mask over his face.  The vocalist made grand gestures while grotesquely grumbling over the din.  I was raised Roman catholic and the entire scene was obscene and unsettling.  I loved it. Ghost came out a couple years later and while I enjoy their similar aesthetic it seems like a Kiss Army characature compared to Portal.  My friend and I had no idea what we were in store for.  We were mesmerized by the unlistenable experience.  This disc and this band are only vaguely musical.  All of the necessary rock instruments are present but the band plays a roaring vacuum,  not songs.  They feel menacing and evil but sound like nothing else.  I can't say I love this cd.  I can say it changed how I appreciate the artistic aesthetic of music.

Prince and the Revolution "purple rain"

In 1984 I was twelve years old.  My blossoming hormones had not missed Appolonia. It was and is a fantastic movie with arguably the best soundtrack ever.  I had spent a morning playing Dungeons & Dragons at my friends house.  We spent the morning with dice, graph paper and off-brand soda pop.  The three of us wrangled with whatever module we had managed to get our hands on for a few hours before  my friend had to leave.  I retired to my buddy's basement where their record player was and we listened to #princeandtherevolution sing about things we had no grasp of.  We were definitely excited by "darling nikki" but really were too naive still to fully grasp how filthy that song really is.  We played the backward vocals back word by disengaging the record players belt by leaving the speed knob stuck between 33 and 45rpm.  Maybe we were seduced by the hedonistic world of Prince, maybe rock and roll is actually the devil's music or maybe we were just dumb but it was then that we decided to sample the booze in my friend's  father's fully stocked basement bar.  We were innocently enough just trying to sample what all the hub bub was about.  Why were certain brands in George Thorogood songs?  We sipped and reeled from many of the bottles as "baby I'm a star" egged us on.  We didn't realise we would end up getting smashed.  In hindsight we were really just that dumb, but at the time that outcome hadn't occurred to us.  We got drunk goofey.  We knew we had to get away from the scene of the crime and tried to ride our bikes to the playground behind the elementary school.  We repeatedly crashed and fell.  We were unfamiliarly dizzy and without any of our faculties.  We pushed our bikes and laughed and drool spit our way to the end of our street where we ended up just sitting on someone's front lawn and rolled around laughing.  I don't remember how long it took us to sober up and I know we never got caught, which amazes me really.  The episode was a PMRC wet dream.  That Prince record is some powerful stuff.

Sir Mix Alot "baby got back"

I hate karaoke.  I've tried to like it.  I don't mind going with others who want to sing but I hate doing it.  There was a stretch of time where a bunch of my musician friends were roving around western New York trying out different karaoke nights at different bars.  They were all into it and it made for fun nights.  My friends put on shows.  Acting like schmaltzy lounge singers (even going so far as to attend events in tuxedos and wigs) or stadium rockers with abandon.  Some could sing very well, some couldn't.  They started entering competitions and the whole thing took on a life of its own.  It was great fun to spectate.  My dirty secret is that I hate performing.  Yeah, I've been in bands for years and played many shows around the country.  It's my least favorite part of being a musician. I loved rehearsals.  You and your friends conjuring songs and jokes. I loved recording.  The wizardry of the studio and documentation of your efforts.  Performing live in a band you can sort of hide personally behind the band is an entiry. That and beer were the reasons I got through it.  Always had the jitters and always wanted to bolt afterwards.   The only thing more embarassing than performing is small talking about your performance afterwards. 
This is the only song I've ever sung at karaoke.  I chose it because it's goofy,  it's a rap  (so tonality doesn't matter as much) and because I know all the words.  I twerked, I lap danced and I spat the lyrics out.  I received riotus applause and knew at that moment I would never do anything like that again. 
By the way I also know all the words to the b-side "cake boy".
"You drink much brew-ha, got a body like buddha"

Curve "frozen"

I sorely miss the days when CDeps and CD singles were widely used.  I miss their exclusive tracks/b-sides and remixes.  They were affordable and came with artwork outside of the band's full length canon. They were a way to get a sizable sample of band's work outside of an isolated compilation track.  This ep by #curve sounds really dated. It's '90s production is almost overpowering but it is a compliment to the dark and sultry electro -pop.  There are shoegaze elements and a twin peaks/Angelo Badlamenti vibe to the thing that I loved when I purchased this back in 1991.  This was a period in my life I was into indestrial/electronic music.  I'd buy anything on wax trax! Records and coveted my Ministry, Skinny Puppy and KMFDM albums.  Curve fall into a more shoegazey end of that sort of music and the song "the colour hurts" was making it onto all of my mix tapes.  I bought their follow up full length "doppleganger" (one of my favorite words) and they continued in the quasi-gothic brooding vein but I seem to always return to this ep.  What's especially great about this ep is that as far as I know none of these four songs appeared on any other of their releases.  I have carted this copy around since 1991,  that is saying something.  Through my countless moves and subsequent collection purging this cd has consistently made the cut.  I've liked this disc enough through all my musical phases to never let it go to make room for new stuff.  It may be the nostalgia, this thing is a time capsule that teleports me back to my freshman year of college, it may be my underlying affinity for anything melancholic or it might be an effect of how deeply I miss the extended playing format.  In any event I don't see this cd going anywhere.

Garden Variety "knocking the skill level"

In the '90s I had been doing illustrations and writing reviews for fanzines.  I didn't get paid for it, but I did receive CDs which I would have inevitably spent the money on anyhow.  This period of my life opened me up to a ton of stuff,  a great deal of it I didn't like and would often wrestle with writing non-dismissive reviews because I appreciated someone spent a lot of time and effort on these shiny plastic discs.  There were a few real game changing gems that I received though too and this #gardenvariety disc was one of them.  It's a D.C./post-hardcore vibe with personal lyrics.  Getting an album this good in the mail just affirmed the time I spent on the art and writing.  I mean I have been obsessed over music since I discovered it as an amassable entity.  At this time of my life though nothing else really mattered to me.  I had started playing bass guitar in a band, I was neck deep 'zine culture, I was working with a punk rock television show, I attending any show I could and drank coffee (which was not musical in nature but was social and I would yammer on about music to anyone who was within earshot).  I was singular in purpose.  That singularity of purpose has happened a few times in my life: tattooing and fatherhood being the others.  That trinity of obsessions really does define me.  There is nothing I do that doesn't fall under those three catagories.  While writing this the song "soft on the name" is playing and the lyrical refrain is repeating: "you're always the last one left to find out" and maybe there are people who find their "centers" in life sooner than I did. It turns out to navigate there I had to triangulate.
This disc came out in 1995.  If I really think about the 22 years since I got it on its release alot of heavy shit has transpired, but this disc still sounds great and still resonates with me.  It makes me want to play music.  It makes me want to drink the rest of this pot of coffee and research what these band members have been up to.  It makes me want to listen to it again while I tattoo tomorrow.  It reminds me of walking around buffalo with headphones so I'm going to get the boys together and go for a walk today. Centered.

Mentors "you axed for it"

I discovered the #mentors by listening to the college radio station WBNY in the late '80s.  Where I lived in the suburbs it took a lot of work to listen to the station.  It's grossly under powered transmission was meant for the campus only so tuning it in my neighborhood was like summoning a demonic overlord.  I would go to the northwest corner of my grandmother's apartment upstairs in the duplex where we lived.  I'd sit by the window (opened if possible, weather permitting ) and in this precise area at a precise time I would fold what must have been pounds of tin foil in exotic origami like shapes to the fully extended antennae of my boom box. I would constantly wiggle and adjust the setup until the crackly semi-clear transmission could be heard.  I would have a cassette tape cues up to record with the pause button engaged so that I could record songs with a gentle button push so as not to disturb my delicate and tenuous set up.  The metal show on wbny was legendary to my circle of friends, they played tons of underground stuff that we devoured.  A friend of mine had captured the song "four F club" from this album on tape and we all poured over it's vulgar lyrics and cave man metal. We had spent hours memorizing John Valby tapes (look him up) so the sexist dirty lyrics were a welcome addition to our collection of forbidden media.  It was a song I had always hoped to catch myself.  It was a quest.  We traded these tapes we made of the show and compiled our favorite songs (Thrust's "posers will die" became legendary this way)  but I really wanted my own Mentors song trapped on my own cassette.  Actually, come to think of it that song had no business on the radio but WBNY felt like a pirate radio and I suppose at the time it kinda was.  I eventually caught "four F club" and "sandwich of love" on tape.  It wasn't until pretty recently that I ever owned a proper release by the band.  I try not to smirk at the gross lyrics but I still do.  This is not a cd I play when the kids are around.

Slayer "show no mercy"

In the spring of 1985 I had been given a cassette which had Venom's "at war with satan" on one side and Slayer's "hell awaits" on the other.  That tape opened Pandora's box of heavy metal.  I searched out albums by both bands and at Cavages record store I found my own copies of #slayer "hell awaits", "haunting the chapel" and "show no mercy". I was already hooked on Iron Maiden but this was a whole new level of dangerous sounding music.  By the end of ninth grade I was ready to replace my Maiden back patch (I had shredded the jacket it was on getting drunk in a field behind the elementary school)  I went to our trusted head shop Pavillion International and got a back patch of this album cover.  A goat - headed sword welding satan in front of Slayer's original (and sorely missed) logo.  I wore that badge of confrontation proudly.  It led to confrontation.  That jean jacket never left my flesh and every day in the cafeteria there was a table of jocks that would mockingly exclaim "slayer!" as I walked past their lunch table. They had done it for weeks and laughed to each other.  One day one of them upped the humiliation and chucked a tater tot at me as I slunk past.  I was already an angry kid and the rage had been building over this incessant harassment.  The tot hit my shoulder and then ricochet to my head. I stopped and pivoted 90 degrees to my left, took three steps and smashed the closest dude in the face with my lunch tray. He tried to stand up and I punched him and he toppled.  I grabbed the chair he had been sitting in and threw it indiscriminately at the person who had been seated at his right. While I was enraged I remember time slowing to an almost serene pace. I threw some ineffective punches at someone's back, whoever I could reach and was then grabbed from behind by our gym teacher. He roughly and silently shoved me out of the cafeteria towards the school office.  I received a week of in-school suspension.  When the week was up and I returned to classes I was dreading lunch and the jock retaliation.  My head was on a paranoid swivel all day. Every guy in a letterman jacket a potential threat.  I anxiously waited for retribution all day.  None came.  Not a peep.  I nervously went to school the next day.  Still nothing.  No jeers of "slayer!"  Years later I ran into a guy I didn't know who was at that table.  He was bouncing at a bar on Chippewa.   He asked me of my name was Joel Menter. I responded that it was.  He then told me that I beat his friend in high school with a chair (not entirely accurate) and that it was the most bad ass thing he had ever seen.  He said they were all terrified of me and believed I was a satanic cultist.  He laughed and shook my hand and let me in the bar without paying the cover.  Man, I wish I still had that jacket.

Immolation "here in after"

In the late '90s I was working at a silk screening shop.  We hand pulled greeting cards for a local company. It was here I ended up meeting one of my best friends.  When I started at the shop he had long hair down to his ass, and was obviously a metal head.  I had been deeply involved in indie rock and the first wave of emo for a few years but found myself welcoming his turns on the shop cd player.  It was through him I rediscovered my love for death metal.  I had asked him to make me a "best of" compilation of Morbid Angel and he also made a general mix of death metal.  On that mix was "Christ's Cage" by #immolation .   Back in the day I had a cassette that someone put their demo on.  I remember loving the vocals but I don't remember much else.  When I heard this song I was hooked on death metal all over again and through my buddie's guidance (and his personal cd collection ) I started mining the depths of the genre again.  My rekindled relationship with metal became kind of an inside joke with the bands I was involved with at the time, most of the other members  (actually, none of the other members) had any history with heavy music let alone death metal.  It became a special sort of insular musical cocoon for me at the time.  My buddie and I started attending the odd metal show together and all the reasons I loved metal in the first place kind of just bubbled to the surface again and it wasn't long before I was re-immersed in it's evil din.  Prior to working at that print shop my cd collection contained Slayer's "reign in blood" and the first four Black Sabbath albums.  Now almost half of my collection falls under the heavy metal flag.  The music just doesn't ever let you go.  "Christ's Cage" is still one of my favorite songs in its wide world.

Sparks "angst in my pants"

I learned everything I know about romance from the movie "Valley Girl".  Nicholas Cage was my spirit animal in 1984.  The sound track's centerpiece is Modern English's "I melt with you" and is in my opinion the greatest love song ever written, but that's another blog.  This #sparks album has two tracks in that movie.  I discovered this record over a decade later while in my late twenties. It encapsulates new wave music for me. Catchy synth - driven pop songs with lyrics informed by punk rock's self deprecating and crass sense of humor.  In the movie the song "angst in my pants" played during a valley dance party in which the party goers eat sushi and molly-ringwald-dance in a carpeted living room.  The setting was as alien to me then as much as now.  The other song in the movie: "eaten by the monster of love" plays during a jeans-tightening scene where a girl's mother tries to seduce her teen daughter's love interest.  A risqué concept then and taboo beyond belief now.  So yeah, that sequence and sing shoot straight to my id.  I imagine that if I make it to nursing home age while the nurses are sponge bathing my wrinkled nethers that song will be playing in my head. A fitting bookend to my sexual awareness.