All the hoo-ha surrounding Dave Mustaine last week (p.s. – you really surprised a Santorum-boosting birther thinks Obama staged Aurora?) reminded me the first legit live music experience I ever had was Megadeth in 1995. My first non-legit experience, or concert absolute zero, happened two years earlier when three upperclassmen at my high school convinced the administration to let their band play a set of Stone Temple Pilots covers onstage in the empty auditorium during a lunch period. I heckled those bozos pretty hard, mostly because I was jealous it wasn’t me up there in pleated khakis and Raybans tearing out “Plush” on some dime store Fender.
But I digress. I don’t recall Dave Mustaine saying anything particularly offensive when I saw Megadeth at the UCF Arena on August 25, 1995, but I do remember clear as the Liberty Bell how goddamn heart-stopping it was to be ten feet away (give or take) from these speed metal legends as they recreated selections from Peace Sells, Rust in Peace, and Youthanasia at deafening volumes. Just having the opportunity to watch Marty Friedman…the guy’s technique is flawless. Or at least it was that night. The whole concert was pretty amazing, except for the opening set by Korn. In Korn’s defense, they were having severe equipment problems. In the crowd’s defense, I don’t think any of us really wanted to hear Brian “Head” Welch play the “Beavis & Butt-head” theme for twelve minutes while Fieldy searched fruitlessly for a working bass guitar.
Fear Factory was also on the bill, and during their set I remember thinking, “This is band is pretty friggin’ cool, I bet they’ll never cover that dippy Gary Numan song ‘Cars.'”
I curdled on Megadeth in the years following this concert for a variety of reasons; they tried to push their luck writing pop songs, Friedman left the band, I discovered the more immediate thrill of punk, I grew tired of kids asking me if I was into other “cheese metal” like Iron Maiden and Poison as well, etc. I’ve come back around now, though, and I listen to a smattering of ‘Deth classics with major regularity. They all hold up, even So Far, So Good…So What? (save that brutally bad “Anarchy in the U.K.” cover). I’m very glad I got to see Megadeth when the joy was still pure, back when they had their most ballyhooed line-up, back when Dave Mustaine was more concerned with alien abduction and black magic than gun rights and birth certificates.
And yes, I will finally admit that I briefly fell asleep on the drive home from this concert, which resulted in the accidental veering of my mother’s 1987 Mercury Grand Marquis into the borders of a construction site. One of those harmless-looking road blocks with the blinking orange lights winged Mom’s passenger side mirror right off its base with a loud whomp. This instantly woke me up and paralyzed me with fear. Luckily, I regained control of the car and there was no further damage (unless you count my friend David, who was in the passenger seat at the time, and who never agreed to get into a car with me again).
I’m sorry, Mom, but I’ve been lying to all these years. I did not meet Dave Mustaine in the parking lot of the UCF Arena, and he did not tear off your passenger side mirror to prove how “metal” he was. I am a bad son.
The best part about music? Sometimes, it comes with really interesting pictures. Here now, the best pictures that came with music in the Year of Our Dog Twenty-Eleven. All images may be clicked for embiggening.
The grim specter of utter financial ruin cradles what’s left humankind’s hope for the future in a graveyard filled with former reality stars. This is one grim reaper who’ll never reveal how he got his whites so white, but if you’re nice he’ll probably give you that Publix coupon he’s been holding onto since the 23rd Century.
The naked lady’s anguish is meant to reflect our own disappointment with the current season of “Dexter.” She’s already invested so much, and she doesn’t have room in her life right now for another serialized drama on cable television. Can she cleanse herself with a bevvy of “Seinfeld” reruns on TNT?
Lady Gaga’s not-so-subtle suggestion concerning the rebirth of Detroit’s long-dying automotive industry: Start fusing humans with machinery. Sure, it’ll make sex kind of awkward, but at least your sister will look pretty fierce cruising down Main Street with her face welded to the front of mom’s Toyota.
There is so much rich satire in this commentary on Marc Maron’s podcast that I really don’t think I need to say anything. Indeed, to affix a single word to this image would be to destroy it for ours and all future generations. I must move on now before I collapse into the weepiest of despairs.
Veteran classic rockers present their concept art for the next Batman movie, which they envision as a crossover with the “Tick” series. An interesting idea until you unfold the album and see the spaceship is in fact hovering over the puckered anus of an oblivious Patrick Warburton.
If a tree sprouts human-like musculature in the woods, would it make a sound as it screams relentlessly without teeth? The ultimate ponderable. The green haze of swamp gas that surrounds our planty subject here represents this year’s oppressive marketing for The Muppets.
The path of totality begins in the desert, where Korn hopes to rebrand themselves as the official soundtrack to Burning Man. Sadly, their sign is already in disrepair, and fundraising efforts have gone nowhere. We can only hope Korn somehow proves where there’s a dreadlocked will, there’s a Jnco’d way.
Stevie’s expression says it all: We gambled on NBC’s superhero farce “The Cape” and we lost, big time. Then again, Ms. Nicks always seems at least slightly haunted, and that horse appears to know something the rest of us don’t. You’ll recognize the lens flare here from its dazzling cameo in Super 8.
2011 will forever be remembered as the year Vanilla Ice lit himself on fire to protest the cancellation of NASA’s space shuttle program. His sacrifice will be remembered for decades, even after all copies of WTF have been rocketed into deep space alongside the charred remains of Ice’s gold ICP belt buckle.
Speaking of bravery, Joan Rivers made a bold choice to sit sans makeup for this portrait that ended up on Brit rock band Yuck’s debut. Finally, we know the real Joan, not just the cutting bitch who mocks celebrities with her chuckling daughter in tow. This image will adorn many t-shirts once Ms. Rivers finally passes.
RELATED: Last year’s list.
Hey, have you ever wondered what it would be like if nü-metal stalwarts Korn recorded a duet with Optimus Prime? Well, wonder no more! “Get Up,” the first single from Korn’s forthcoming tenth album The Path To Totality (LOL, that sounds like a Schwarzenegger movie quote), has hit the Internetz, and it’s rife with robotic scat noise. Alas, said noise comes courtesy not of an actual Transformer but of dupstep all-star Skrillex. Further disappointment crystalizes when you realize the song underneath all those weird futuristic effects is uninspired rap metal-by-numbers. Yet, I feel I can forgive the lack of oomph here simply because these guys are seventeen years removed from “Blind” and there’s really nowhere else to go once you’ve covered Cameo.
The Path To Totality drops on December 6, just in time for the seventieth anniversary of Pearl Harbor Day. I can’t think of a better way to honor our heroes who fought in World War II than with a new Korn album. Hey Grandpa, ARE…YOU…READY?????