Roast Reviews

Dire Thorns – Call Me Nothing

Dire Thorns – Call Me Nothing
Roasted by Rob Sutton

Grimsby is known for a few things (well, mainly fishing) but not so much for metal bands, so with Dire Thorns wanting to submit themselves for a roast, I was only too happy to oblige. Now first off, let’s start by mentioning that these guys are very, very young. In fact so much so that I’m writing this at 8pm which is way past their bedtime. This should mean that they would be able to bring something a little new to the table right? Wrong! Can you remember those early 00’s days of Nu-Metal where everything sounded raw and tinny? Well imagine that but instead have the recording done in Mummy and Daddy’s garage. Jesus I thought black metal was rough. Still, at least they saved up enough pocket money to buy instruments… Well mostly, I am pretty sure the snare is just a bin lid.

So onto the actual song and vocally, it is impressive that someone who has only just been potty trained can actually metal growl, there is a huge amount of reverb on the voice. I think it’s a very empty garage, I hope their parents haven’t sold everything in expectation that these guys’ music careers take off. The guitar work is also impressive with some fairly decent riffs being played – I say decent because I don’t want to offend anyone in the special Ed music class. Also the video itself is of a hugely high standard, mixing live performances, recorded clips and other bits of animation. Impressive for Windows movie maker! Honestly though I just can’t get over the quality of the recording, it sounds worse than me shitting after a night on the Newcastle brown Ale. I’d rather die is the perfect phrase from the song that actually fits. Ahhh fuck nope, can’t take it anymore… done.

Bass bit… pretty sure he is twanging an elastic band!

Disclaimer: None of the above represents my true feelings about Dire Thorns and they are in fact an incredibly talented young band that have a massive amount of potential! Yeah, you know what’s coming, budget garage band recorded, bin lid using, Slipknot wannabe high school shit!

LINKS:

Disclaimer: This review is solely the property of Rob Sutton and Ever Metal. It is strictly forbidden to copy any part of this review, unless you have the strict permission of both parties. Failure to adhere to this will be treated as plagiarism and will be reported to the relevant authorities.

I Am The Wreckage – Ocelot Revolver

I Am The Wreckage – Ocelot Revolver
Roast Review by Rob Sutton

Manchester boys I am the Wreckage are next on my list to roast and this was a great honour as these guys are the 0161 house band, playing every gig they put on! Though this isn’t because they’re any good but more like no other promoter will touch them.

Let’s change things up and start with the actual video. We find ourselves in the unique setting of an abandoned warehouse with all the band members facing each other, I guess they are the only ones who would actually want to look at them. Still, from bland, we go to pain and that pain is from the insufferable sound of Protest the Hero meets Hatebreed, I’m talking about the vocals and they are about as painful as being fisted by the Infinity Gauntlet.

Moving onto their overall sound and honestly it sounds like they’ve taken inspiration from American deep south Groove / Hardcore, no bad thing but you get the image of these boys sat outside their caravan, feet in a paddling pool ‘rearranging’ their man junk while watching their cousin parade around the dried up grass. That’s right we have the Coors Light beer of Metal! Weak ass hillbilly shite. Now the drums aren’t bad, but they are about as basic as your next Tinder date. This is no surprise as the riffs coming out of these guys do sound like one of the guitarists lazy ass students who doesn’t practice. In fairness to the kids, I hope they don’t listen to their teacher as if they do, we clearly have a problem with the future of Manchester Metal… Watch out kids the great American dream of caravan style Metal is coming your way! I can see it, 10 years from now – a young band starts up under the name I am Wrecking my Cousin! God bless ‘merica!

Speaking of education, who hired the geography teacher to play bass?

Disclaimer: None of the above represents my true opinions of I Am The Wreckage and they are in fact one of my favourite bands to come out of Manchester and would highly recommend them to anyone!

Ahhh this is normally the part where I would call them ‘deep south, cousin fucking metal’ but whilst I was reading the comments on the video I found this piece of gold!

‘That guy at the beginning with the guitar is too attractive x’ this came from… The Blind Gamer!

Hahahahaha someone did my job for me!!!!

LINKS:

The Roast of Nik NXK

Nik NXK – Burnout
Roasted by Dark Juan

The opening (I should correct myself here – the first coherent line. Before this discernible syllabification he was just babbling like a toddler) line of Nik NXK’s ‘Burnout’ single is “I don’t think I’m OK.” I agree. The man’s fucking madder than a pack of rabid hunting hounds in full cry. He indulges in a style of music called Trap Metal, which Dark Juan confidently predicts will have a shorter existence than an early 2000’s dotcom company. Trap Metal is everything that is terrible about Rap mixed with everything that is terrible about Dance music with added Metal guitars, which to be frank are the only good bits of the entire sorry ensemble.

What I am basically trying to say is that some King Cnut in a studio office somewhere thought it would be a good idea to mix the shittier side of Urban Pop music (as in bunch of whining shitbag mandem thinking they are hard roadmen, because they got arrested once and therefore will wear stupid fucking balaclavas and puffer jackets to disguise their malnourished, spavined, acne-ridden teenage faces and their pipe-cleaner arms. Oh and smoking drugs. All the weed. I even saw a video of a bunch of them wearing sunglasses over their balaclavas. In London. At night. Only The Lord My God Andrew Eldritch and Corey Hart can get away with that. And the music is just said muppets complaining that no-one understands them apart from their fam, that they are all hard as fuck gangsters and that they are apparently going to be quite busy stabbing everyone up… Fuck me, it’s duller than ditchwater and less intelligent than Blue fucking Peter. It’s about as threatening as Blue fucking Peter too… That John Noakes was a right dodgy bastard with his right hook. I’ve seen harder schoolgirls. In fact, two stillettoed and mini-dressed lasses from Gateshead could fuck up the whole sorry lot of them by themselves and still have time for pizza and Lambrini) with the righteous power of Metal. Then they even managed to get some absolute fucking dickheads to record some of it.

Which leads us neatly on to Nik NXK.

On the cover of the ‘Burnout’ single we appear to have the same problem as the balaclava brandishing cunts. Nik NXK obscures his boatrace with a mask and has some bling drip on, famalam. The cover is only short of a hired Bentley with some supposedly badass roadmen standing near it and waving their stupid fucking hands about. Why do they all fucking wear gloves? It’s not as if they can be identified by fingerprint off of a fucking video is it, the dozy shitbiscuits.

He almost redeems his scrawny ass by having a rather pleasing roar, not unlike Mushroomhead’s J Mann, but then ruins himself and employs it on a tune that is about as heavy as a shit I have had after a nutritious lunch composed entirely of liquids. I’m surprised he didn’t break out some old-school beats for the rap section, which is burbled, bawled and farted (it sounds like) through at such speed it is rendered unintelligible, and it just sounds like the man(dem) is having a really, REALLY challenging visit to the little boy’s room. Or some pipes vigorously unblocking themselves. Or he’s fucking his first cousin and racing towards the vinegar stroke. I’m not sure which is more likely but I’m angling towards the incest…

The next offering to which I am forced to give my attention is ‘Industry’, which proves that Nik NXK is a true Trap artist insofar as the first thing he does is start fucking complaining about the industry THAT HE IS ACTUALLY FUCKING INVOLVED IN over distorted 909 kick drums. This is a staggering display of biting the hand that feeds you and the entire song is basically Nik NXK crying that he doesn’t want to do anything to do with the industry (I am assuming he is on about the music industry at this point), but this is thankfully easily solved. Go and get a fucking job at Aldi, you wheedling twatmonkey, and then you don’t have to concern yourself with the industry, do you? Dark Juan offers solutions, not problems, but then young Nik wouldn’t have anything to complain about on record, would he?

Anyway, Nik roars, burbles, whines, complains and has girly hissy fits for a whole two minutes and ten seconds and then thankfully shuts the fuck up again, probably because he’s just found out his cousin is pregnant and it’s a tossup between him and Drayvon down the road as to who the father is. Gang signs are thrown and there’s a lot of fucking frankly camp posturing and preening and waving their little matchstick arms about threatening to “Stab you and your dog up, fam” and lots of calling each other “bitches” and “wannabe roadmen”. My eyes have rolled so far back in my head I now know what the base of my brain looks like from the fucking inside. Nik NXK’s panties are in such a bunch the poor, misguided fucker has given himself a self-inflicted nuclear wedgie and now he’s angry about it.

And now, dear friends, we are on to the third “song” that has been sent for my delectation. It is entitled ‘Isolation’ and to be fair it basically sounds like one of Korn’s less amusing offerings. Nik NXK roars about a lot of fucking nonsense (I can’t understand a fucking thing the boy says) and intersperses this with some grumbling about the state of the floor (get good quality laminates then, you cheapskate twatwizzle, instead of cheap vinyl flooring), shouts “FUCK!” and then the whole thing comes to a shuddering, unfinished halt after a mere one minute and forty-one seconds, thereby proving that Nik NXK is a two pumps and a squirt kinda guy, to the undoubted relief of young ladies everywhere as they now know who to avoid on a night out. Apart from his cousin whose pregnancy is now showing and is panicking because Drayvon is enjoying a spell at Her Majesty’s Pleasure (excuse me, HIS Majesty’s Pleasure) and she needs someone to pay the rent while he’s inside being introduced to Big Dave in the showers. In short, Nik NXK’s music is as satisfying to the Metal fan as doing an almighty technicolour yawn in the middle of a party all over the super-hot member of the company you were hoping to bump uglies with, with added diarrhoea running down your left leg thrown in for good measure.

I’m bored of this gibbering, snorting load of foetid, midden-like codswallop now. I’ve written a thousand words about it which is nine hundred and ninety-nine too many, and it feels like my IQ has dropped at least a hundred points, which now leaves me in minus figures which frankly is not doing anything for my self-esteem. I’m going for a bath in some bleach to cleanse myself of the taint of having listened to Nik NXK’s Trap Metal.

Fucking travesty, it is. Nearly as bad as Sam Astaroth. Jesus, now I know of two of them. Will the horror ever end? Will Nik NXK ever find out if the child of his cousin is his or Drayvon’s? Will Drayvon attempt to save the honour of Nik’s cousin by having an urban duel and battle-rapping with him? Will anyone give a flying fuck? Tune in soon for the next instalment of why someone should never volunteer to be roasted by Dark Juan.

Disclaimer:

Time for a little bit of housekeeping, boys and girls and humans of all other genders, or lack of them. Nik NXK (otherwise known as Nik Nocturnal) is absolutely barmy, and actually volunteered for this to happen to him, for which I salute him mightily. He also said I could be as nasty as I wanted to be, but I didn’t want to introduce him to the concept of the chainsaw buttfuck or the colon clutch. Because he’d only end up writing songs about them. I also, on behalf of myself and the whole Ever-Metal.com team, wish to thank him for taking part in what is a good-humoured, if entirely disrespectful, roast.

Dark Juan wishes it to be known here that he actually really enjoyed the uncompromising savagery of Nik’s music, which takes Metal to new and unexplored dimensions and you should all know that Dark Juan is an intrepid listener and is all about discovering new music in any form, be it Metal or otherwise, and thanks Nik NXK/ Nocturnal for the chance to hear his music, which is staggeringly well produced and of considerable interest for anyone with broad enough tastes that encompass the unusual and abstruse. So, thank you, Nik. This was fun. Also, but say this quietly because this could seriously harm my metal cred – I’m a fan, mate 😉

LINKS:

Disclaimer: This review is solely the property of Dark Juan and Ever Metal. It is strictly forbidden to copy any part of this review, unless you have the strict permission of both parties. Failure to adhere to this will be treated as plagiarism and will be reported to the relevant authorities.

In Depths – Drained

In Depths – Drained
Roasted by Rob Sutton

Chester based In Depths are next on my list of bands to roast and these guys are a curious one, as there is a mix of many sub-genres which makes it difficult to pin point exactly where they sit. No worries though as I will break them down. There is a mix of Beatdown, Deathcore and a bit of Djent, basically meaning mixing the noncing of Beatdown, the domestic abuse of Deathcore and the virginity of Djent… so they found a girl who’s underage, dated them, beat them but still not popped their cherry!

Right onto the song Drained, we actually start off with a riff but then it descends into more 0’s than a bowl of Cheerio’s… I mean what’s the point of having an ironing board of a guitar when you only play a handful of notes? Ehhh, anyway vocals – well they are a bit bland, kind of like having toast with only butter on. Still, this is better than the 00’s hair style he has, aww did he use his mums straighteners? I do love the use of the talking which sounds in pain, I mean the line “I stand alone” seems fitting, as I cant see why anyone would stand by the basic sound that’s going on here. Hey at least the breakdowns are pretty good, very heavy and the drums really fit to this perfectly, I can see the hipsters of the Metal world really digging this. So maybe that’s all this is, Metal for those that have minimal imagination when it comes to music.

The video itself is an interesting one as it is neither fully performance nor narrative, but instead just the vocalist shouting in a cave, I guess the rest of the band were too embarrassed to join in. Also, I think their camera guy needs a stand, there is so much shaking it’s giving me vertigo, but I guess that’s what happens when you let an epileptic film shit.

Oh, wow there is a fat bass guitar! Anyway…

Disclaimer: Non of the above represents my true opinions of In Depths as they truly are one of the heaviest bands around and boy are they fun to headbang to! Ahhh you know what’s coming… GHD virgin beatdown!

LINKS:

Elimination – Icon of Despair

Elimination – Icon of Despair
Roasted by Rob Sutton

Ugh! Thrash, my least favourite of the Metal genres and here I am presented with Ipswich based Elimination. I suppose being from Ipswich means there should be some interesting riffs, what with the extra digits on their hands, but alas we have riffs that sound like they have been used in every Thrash song since the dawn of time.

First up, as always, let’s begin with the vocals and who has resurrected Lemmy?! Man, this facial hair is poorly kept, if this is an imitation of the late great, then I would seriously recommend getting some Gillette on it and save yourself the embarrassment. Anyway, I digress, the actual style seems to be a cross between a shout and a scream much like that of Kreator, but with added constipation. This first scream sounds faker than Katie Prices tits. I think there is an effort to change things up at the beginning of the song with a clean intro, again this is just a vague attempt to be different and stand out from the ever-growing pile of shit this genre throws up. Does this work? Kind of, but it’s more of an after thought… like having a second child. This is continued by a few more melodies throughout the song which do give it a more European feel to it, so I’m guessing these guys were gutted when Brexit happened, as plagiarising the Germans will be a lot harder now. Still, drums are pretty solid and actually sound fat, shame the drummer looks like your Dad when he decides to go to his first Metal gig with you (yep that backwards hat is about as cool as MySpace).

Lyrically, wow! We have the ability to rhyme and it’s used in almost every line. I didn’t realise the education system in Ipswich actually worked, although this is done to the standard of year 6 SATS and not that of a grown educated man. Guitar solos in songs tend to be a highlight for me and while these cut through the mix nicely, it does feel like a bit of a showoff. Well, I guess they have to try and impress women somehow (or men, I don’t judge). Speaking of which there is a lovely woman in the video, if this is one of their girlfriends then wow they are punching… or have money.

Shit! Bassist again, well its Thrash, no one cares about a bassist.

Disclaimer:

None of the above represents my true feelings towards Elimination as they really are one of the best Thrash bands on the UK circuit! Ahhh what the hell, constipated, six fingered Trash metal!

LINKS:

Mike McClatchey and Lament Cityscape

Mike McClatchey and Lament Cityscape
Roasted By Dark Juan

Now then, fiends, I am being fuelled by a surfeit of both petty, and rather less than petty rage of late. Not content with having to deal with the fact that the UK now has to deal with a woman who makes the animated bag of rancid custard that was our ex-prime minister seem like a fucking genius, Brexit making the simplest tasks more time consuming than the fucking mountain of paperwork that wrangling young people generates on a daily basis, and a certain Eastern leader deciding that they would take a leaf out of colonial Britain’s playbook and indulge in a bit of good old-fashioned gunboat diplomacy in a nation next door, I am fizzing with fury, so this is obviously an EXCELLENT time to have a bash at an American man who is on another, distant continent and CAN’T ACTUALLY GET HOLD OF ME TO EXACT PHYSICAL REVENGE…

So, Lament Cityscape. A musical endeavour created by a man so dour he could be a Buckfast-soaked vagrant from the arse end of Glasgow faced with an Englishman in Mike McClatchey, from a country that can’t even decide how to pronounce Spokane correctly, Lament Cityscape is a band that could only be enjoyed by people to whom music has no meaning. Appearing to be composed mainly of McClatchey chucking a load of pots and pans down some stone stairs repeatedly and recording the results before giving them incredibly pretentious titles like ‘A Rusting Moth’, Lament Cityscape occupy a kind of dark continuum that permits no light to enter, instead being a shadowy world of surprising descents of cast-iron kitchenware down barely visible stairways and some mad bastard chucking steel ladders about in an echoey warehouse. So, also like the rougher ends of Glasgow. Also, moths don’t fucking rust, Mike. They are organic and therefore will decompose naturally, or undergo the adipocere change if conditions are right for it. Happy to be of service…

Yes, dour is a perfect metaphor for Mike McClatchey, who has not been known to smile since at least 1993, and for whom delight, and probably orgasm, is undetectable via facial expression. Clearly taking his inspiration from Mount Rushmore, he is indeed craggy of countenance and Dark Juan is concerned that he is actually wearing the tanned face of a murder victim of his, rather than his OWN FACE, such is the blank-eyed immobility of his countenance. His outlook on life is so grim that the accidental running over of an angelic, curly blonde-haired toddler represents an uptick in his general mood. The last time any discernible emotion was detected in Mike McClatchey, there were a number of major earthquakes as fault lines fractured when he moved his face a mere three millimetres. He is the kind of man that, when faced with a major, life-changing disaster, will raise his eyebrow less than a centimetre and mutter something unspeakably horrible sotto-voce and go and hurl a bag full of rusting moths down the nearest fire-escape and record the resulting cacophony and call it music, to the horror and consternation of metal lepidopterists everywhere. And then will add the sounds of some explosions and possibly a toilet flushing before barking some non-linear words over it before thinking, “Fuck it, there’s the opening single of the next record.”

And then name the album something like “The Endlessly Grey And Depressing Wet” which clearly proves that he has visited the North West of England at some point in his life, which frankly is depressing enough for anyone.

Lament Cityscape is regarded as an Industrial band. Throbbing Gristle were an Industrial band and they sounded like someone had really fucked up in the studio and had just recorded the commercial abattoir next door. Lament Cityscape are not like this.

Lament Cityscape sounds like someone putting up a garden shed REALLY quickly.

To conclude this entirely unjustified attack on an artist and his art then – If you want to hear music that sounds like the gearbox of a Challenger main battle tank giving up the ghost while it is travelling at speed, conceived and performed by a man for whom any emotion besides bleak, morbid or furious was purged via unspeakable means many years ago and, and I cannot stress this enough, is quite possibly a serial killer who DOES NOT WEAR HIS OWN FACE, I thoroughly recommend Lament Cityscape to your attention. Otherwise avoid it and him. He’s quite clearly fucking dangerously unhinged.

Disclaimer time, American legal enthusiasts and any people with no sense of humour who have taken the previous ranting seriously!!!!

This “piece” of “descriptive” writing was written with the full knowledge and permission of Mike McClatchey and has his blessing. This might change when he actually reads it online. For the record, however, I am proud to call Mike McClatchey a personal friend (this also might change after he reads this piece), a gentleman of the highest calibre and a superb musician. Also for the record, Dark Juan is a rabid and enthusiastic fan of Lament Cityscape and their vastly superior Industrial music. I commend every record the band has made to your attention for they are truly superb. Good evening.

Send any legal enquiries to Beth “I’ve Got One Fist Of Iron, And One Fist Of Steel, If The Left One Don’t Get You, The Right One Will” Jones, Ever-Metal.com Headquarters, 3^rd Builders Skip on the left, Ystad Ddiwydiannol, Wrecsam, Gogledd Cymru.

LINKS:

Trivium (!!) – Violence Breeds Violence

Trivium (!!) – Violence Breeds Violence
Roasted by Rob Sutton

Never in my wildest dreams did I think when I started these roasts would I have the honour of roasting Trivium, but here we are! Now Trivium has been one of those bands I have grown up with, (like many of you reading this) but I am afraid to say that they have really dropped the ball with this song Violence Breeds Violence. First off I was sure they were signed with some big record label such as Roadrunner or some other big time label but now they’re signed with some UK based bottom feeder management called Unearthed? I mean who? Clearly Trivium has taken a step backwards and that is obvious by their attempt to infuse Killswitch Engage into their sound, it’s not even nostalgic, it’s just bland. Onto the growls on this song, now Heafy has never been known to be that strong in this department but these are really not great, they sound even more strained than me at a gym, which really isn’t a pretty sight. The cleans aren’t bad mind you. The solos here also seem to have lost the complexity of previous albums and have been replaced with mediocre trash solos and a vague attempt to be groovy, but in the end just sounds like a crap breakdown. I mean let’s take the video, Trivium are known for their big budget narrative based videos but here we have a performance based piece where it looks like the lot of them have just crawled out of a prostitute’s vagina while she is on shark week, not a good look at all! What happened Trivium, you’re breaking my heart! Honestly I can’t see why anyone would want to buy their upcoming album with this shite!

***Edit***

Fuck I have just noticed I wasn’t listening to Trivium and in fact it’s a band called Beyond Your Design! For fuck sake, which donkey decided it was a good idea to so blatantly copy Trivium and then give them a Killswitch name, the creativity here is just insane… Don’t get me wrong I like both of the bands as I explained but what the actual fuck? It honestly is like they have downloaded both bands discography and mashed them together to make a song. Did they not get Rick Rolled? This is becoming a common trend with Unearthed bands reliving the MySpace era of metal and doing it badly. So far I have had Budget Carnifex and now we have Charity Shop Trivium, Unearthed this is a call to you, send me something original please! Also, I just went on Beyond Your Design’s Facebook page and it says ‘genre: Melodic Death Metal’ GET FUCKED this as far away from Melodic Death Metal as these guys are to getting to the final of M2TM!

To sum Beyond Someone Else’s Design up, it’s a shitty copycat version of bands everyone loves that really has no place within the current scene but yet they still seem to think it is relevant, I mean it is kind of relevant but only when done by professionals, not a group of amateurs soaked in fanny blood!

***Disclaimer***

None of what I have said above represent my thoughts towards Beyond Your Design nor Unearthed and both have given me permission to roast them in this review (though still Unearthed can volunteer more of their bands if they want).

Who am I kidding; I still love the name Beyond Someone Else’s Design!

‘Violence Breeds Violence’ Official Video

LINKS:

Vulgore – Renegade

Vulgore – Renegade
Roasted by Rob Sutton

Born in the city of Stoke, (well hardly a city as it has no cathedral, more like an amalgamation of towns to create a shitty city) is the band Vulgore. Let’s start with their millennial metalhead inspired logo; we have silver with blood on it, so original. What’s next, baggy trousers with too many dog chains on or badly drawn make up? Well continuing with the 00’s theme one of them does in fact have black make up on, it’s almost as if this image has aged about as well as Amy Winehouse in her 30’s. Now these guys seem to have done fairly well in their short time being a band, most notably playing Bloodstock (probably because they had blood on their logo) and being managed by Unearthed. I mean how did Unearthed find these guys? Was it a drunken night in Newcastle-Under-Lyme, where everything was a bit hazy, or were they spiked by the slightly intimidating drummer? Either way this has worked really well for Vulgore as they are continually playing opening slots around the country to a handful of desperate metalheads. Good going guys!

Right onto the actual song, first off, where was this recorded in? Their mum’s basement? The amount of reverb on the vocals is clearly showing that he can’t actually do any kind of metal vocals and is just masking this by using the age-old black metal trick of echo. Yeah, there isn’t any black metal here so don’t get excited. If you want to get excited about decent metal just keep driving along the M6 and avoid the Stoke junction. I’m pretty sure one of these guitars is actually out of tune, genuinely sounds like the horrible groan your car gives you as your clutch starts to fail. Tinnitus is better. For once in one of these roasts it actually sounds like the drums have been recorded live albeit, with the practice pads still on, but hey… kudos. So lyrically ‘Renegades’ starts with a load of words thrown together just because they rhyme – congratulations on passing your primary school poetry class, lads! In fairness the words are fairly complex for a group of teenagers that clearly needed a support worker. There is a lot of talk about dying for freedom and justice. Freedom from Hanley, Burslem, Stoke in general, c’mon I want to know which one! Justice would have not having this song circulating on my YouTube for the past hour while I have to write this.

Credit where credit is due here though, I can actually hear a bassist, not like it matters.

Disclaimer: All the above does not represent my actual thoughts towards Vulgore and this was done with the full consent of the band. In fact they are a lovely bunch of lads who have even played gigs for us… Though I don’t remember agreeing to this, funny as I only recall having one pint, but I can’t remember anything… blasted drummer!

Who am I kidding myself this is just death metal done by the special education class!

I thank you… Duck!

‘Renegade’ Official Lyric Video

LINKS:

The Roast Of Lisa Mann

The Roast Of Lisa Mann
Roasted by Dark Juan

Greetings and salutations, dear friends. Today I am here to write about a woman, her solo project and the band she has joined. Lisa Mann is a blues bassist who likes to show off by playing a six-string bass and making it look effortless, even though she is the size of, and also has the hands of a pre-pubescent child and who has turned to metal in an effort to stem the all-pervading misery and incipient depression that comes from playing the blues for most of your adult life. She is frankly a multi-talented musician and this makes her deeply irritating to Dark Juan because he hasn’t even mastered the flesh trombone, let alone any other instrument.

Thankfully having avoided the 27 Club which is an achievement for anyone who has been involved with the blues for more than FIFTEEN SECONDS, Lisa released “The Poisoner” by White Crone a year or two ago, and promptly released a video for the title track of that album in which she immediately had her poor old dad murdered. Among others. Which shows you just how FUCKING EVIL she is really after everything he has done for her. She didn’t even off him herself and instead outsourced it, probably in order to establish an airtight alibi, although perhaps then WRITING A FUCKING SONG ABOUT THE HITMAN YOU HAVE JUST ENGAGED AND WHO HAS JUST CARRIED OUT A PATRICIDAL MURDER ON YOUR ORDERS is a very poorly though out bit of plausible deniability. Even more annoyingly, it was a superb album indeed and proved that Lisa is a very good guitar player as well as a bassist. There is no need for this. Mere mortals cannot hope to compete. She also, in her guise as White Crone (she says it’s because she’s white and no longer a young lady. I say shut up and age is no barrier to ability. Unless you’re expecting to embark on a Formula One career aged 65. You know, she will probably fucking do that as well before she’s finished reminding me how crushingly inadequate I am) even managed to cover Rainbow’s “Stargazer”. This is an anthem that is sacrosanct, yet she went and bloody did it anyway. And it was good. Honestly, the woman has no respect at all…

Don’t get me started on her singing voice. She is fast cementing a reputation as metal’s newest and brassiest barrel-lunged chanteuse and quite where the trad-metal, full-on alto comes from is a source of constant wonder as Lisa Mann is about the same size as Lisa Simpson and looks like she weighs half as much as a wet dishcloth. Seriously, the woman’s bass is literally the same height as her. Her hair alone accounts for three inches of height and 17% of body weight. You could swallow her whole without the aid of a glass of water. There should not be the lung capacity or the power, which leads me to believe that she is a) an evil powerful witch and channelling the spirits of the dead to fuel her own nefarious grandeur, b) gets someone else to do it and keeps them quiet because she has kidnapped their children and family dog and threatens violence upon them every time she needs vocals doing (this makes her, in the fevered pool of liquid cess that operates as Dark Juan’s mind, a dab hand with a whip, and power tools and using bass strings for purposes other than for which they were designed, perhaps as artfully constructed torture devices. I wish I wasn’t so wrong in the brainbox), c) possibly some kind of immortal elf and d) makes my own miserable and untalented existence pointless.

Anyway, this most egregious of multi-talented performers only went and joined ANOTHER fucking band because being good at the blues, the bass, singing, playing guitar and doing an album by yourself clearly isn’t enough to fuel her rampant and rampaging ego. Henceforth she is now the lead singer of Splintered Throne and can now state that Devin Townsend is a bit of a talentless twat because he hasn’t done as many things as she has. He hasn’t poisoned his father on video and got cleanly away with it, has he? Splintered Throne are a trad-metal band composed of four other very good musicians who probably struggle to get a word in edgeways as the ultra-hyper Mann gabbles ideas at ten miles a minute at them and pinballs off every wall in the room whilst simultaneously trying to avoid her own capture by Gargamel so she can be returned to the rest of The Smurfs. Presumably for the safety of the world at large. The bass player in Splintered Throne is possibly the most redundant band member ever considering Lisa Mann is in the band considering she would probably just do a Billy Sheehan and play two basses at the same time while singing and using her left foot to write a new song. I can just see her racing around the studio, sneering like Vincent Price with an armful of cats snatching at everyone else’s instruments and just doing all the parts herself and glaring at the other guys in the band cowering in the corner away from the flashing rage in her eyes as she rages and froths and exudes an implicit sense of impending violence because THEIR BITS WERE NOT FUCKING GOOD ENOUGH!!!! And, because I have a particularly fertile imagination, I can see her slowly absorbing the rest of Splintered Throne and it becoming another solo project and then she finds another band and the same happens again, as Lisa works her way through the world of metal until there is only her left, like the entropic death of the universe into a giant quantum singularity, there will only be Lisa Mann left, cackling maniacally, viciously using her bass as a clubbing weapon on any young band that sounds like they might be trying to start a metal career, because there is no longer metal, there is only the Empress, the Bassqueen Lisa Mann.

I should point out that Splintered Throne’s latest album is also, really fucking annoyingly, very good indeed.

In short, this colonial, hyperactive metal elf might actually be the most annoying creature to walk the earth, especially because she will probably read this and say “Thank you” in a charming fashion whilst simultaneously dispatching The Poisoner to make sure I don’t pen any more vitriol about her.

This isn’t hero worship. This is self-loathing and naked envy talking.

So yeah, Lisa Mann. Celluloid paternal murderer, possible evil witch and kidnapper of family pets, insanely overactive otherkin, desecrator of “Stargazer”, musically promiscuous and dictator of other people’s bands and single handed destroyer thereof, and Empress of Metal.

Megalomaniac.

In reality, Lisa Mann is a charming and lovely person and one of the true defenders of the faith, a friend of Ever-Metal.com, a personal friend of Dark Juan and a very versatile, talented musician and lyricist indeed. And her father has not actually succumbed to the ministrations of a shadowy assassin. And I extend my thanks to her for allowing me to have a good-humoured bash at her!

I can’t even have a bass-related pop at her in the vein of Rob Sutton and his roasts because Lisa is Queen of the Bass.

Fuck.

Surya – Absolver

Surya – Absolver
Roasted by Rob Sutton

Leeds-based Post-Metalcore band Surya were my next victims, they were formed from the ashes of Autocracy (who might I add actually won their metal to the masses, unlike these guys). It seems the members that made Autocracy good didn’t transfer across to Surya, which is a shame as I really dig that band. Never mind lets go with the review of the dregs.

Beginning, as always with the genre… Post-Metalcore, I think this is another band trying to be relevant in an ever more dense genre such as metalcore by calling themselves ‘Post.’ The most ‘Post’ thing about this band is the strongly worded letter of displeasure I sent them after watching these monochromed bellends earlier this year. This experience was about as pleasurable as inserting an umbrella up my arse and then opening it. There is nothing new or for that matter original; we have a lead guitar fiddling away over a main riff, probably as practice for when he finally gets a girlfriend. There is a definite waft of virginity with this band. Anyway onto the vocals, while it sounds powerful, it is dryer than my Nan’s crotch and she’s dead. Plus we have minimal range, just a mid growl style with a pitiful attempt at a guttural. Synthy bits in the background seem to me to be like using Oust on a dance club toilet, you know full well the stench in there is horrific and no amount of it will cover the over powering scent of excrement, that’s exactly what these synths feel like, an attempt to mask the monstrosity with something pretty. Yeah… no. I see through your Oust!

In case you didn’t know, this song is called Absolver. I think Surya have memory loss as they have to repeat the name of the song numerous times just so they remember. Sadly this generic Metalcore (not post) does get stuck in my head; luckily I’m due for brain surgery next week so this should sort that problem out. The whole song seems to do its best to stand out but sadly just sounds like a slightly more technical version of Architects, a sound every single fucking band is going for right now. So Rob’s top tip for creating a new band, listen to Architects, copy it badly, come up with a name that is almost impossible for anyone to pronounce correctly, wear what you would consider to be cool clothing (if you are still in college) and you are there! Christ, even call yourselves Surya then you too won’t play bloodstock!

Bass time! Yes you can actually hear the bass… that is all.

***Disclaimer***

This roast was done with full consent of the band Surya and does not represent my actual opinions of the band… Yeah, you know what? Monochromed Architects Wannabes!

LINKS: