Fall is here, was watching devil’s rejects
Procrastinating washing the dishes
Amanda and Marina.
Sorry I haven’t been posting, lovelies. 🙈 I should get back to that.
Bad Image is the fourth studio album by Kingdom Come.
All songs by Lenny Wolf.
Fender USA Signature Series Yungwie Malmsteen Stratocaster VWH 2007.
NWOBHM Ultimate Playlist
0:00 Hollow Ground - Fight With The Devil 3:20 Samson - Riding With The Angels 7:03 Satan - Alone In The Dock 13:31 Iron Maiden - Wrathchild 16:26 Dark Star - Kaptain America 19:53 Geddes Axe - Six Six Six 25:52 Warfare - This Machine Kills 29:51 Def Leppard - Ride Into The Sun 32:44 Witchfinder General - Free Country 35:55 Bleak House - Chase The Wind 39:02 Seventh Son - Immortal Hours 42:56 A-II-Z - Treason 45:51 Bashful Alley - Running Blind 50:19 Holocaust - Smokin’ Valves 54:03 Savage - Dirty Money 59:00 Tygers Of Pan Tang - Killers 1:05:37 Venom - Don’t Burn The Witch 1:08:55 Bleak House - Rainbow Warrior 1:13:15 Sweet Savage - Killing Time 1:16:12 Angel Witch - Angel Witch 1:19:38 Virtue - We Stand To Fight 1:24:26 Girl - Hollywood Tease 1:27:04 Blitzkrieg - Buried Alive 1:30:36 Persian Risk - Ridin’ High 1:33:49 White Spirit - Midnight Chaser 1:39:06 Chariot - Evil Eye 1:42:10 Diamond Head - Am I Evil 1:49:54 Black Axe - Red Lights 1:52:57 Cloven Hoof - Cloven Hoof 1:59:49 Raven - Don’t Need Your Money 2:03:12 Avenger - Under The Hammer 2:05:49 Battleaxe - Chopper Attack 2:10:08 Chateaux - White Steel 2:14:48 Black Axe - Highway Rider 2:17:39 Saxon - Never Surrender 2:20:52 Badger - The Traveller 2:24:34 Grim Reaper - See You In Hell 2:28:52 Tranzzam - End Of The Day 2:33:40 Blitzkrieg - Blitzkrieg 2:37:30 A-II-Z - Valhalla Force 2:41:15 Traitor’s Gate - Devil Takes The High Road 2:45:17 Tytan - Cold Bitch 2:48:23 Tysondog - Dead Meat 2:51:49 Tank - Kill 2:59:50 Tokyo Blade - Unleash The Beast
me when i found out tom araya likes trump
Ozzy Osbourne - Mama, I’m Coming Home
“So tell me again, why the hell do you look like that?” Type asked for the second time, being unsatisfied with his husband’s first answer. Tharn’s hair was disheveled, he wore a pair of black studs, and had put on heavy black eyeliner. He was wearing a thin, black tank top with the words “Nirvana” on the front. He wore black ripped jeans and a pair of black shoes. Type secretly thought Tharn looked hot, but also a bit weird.
Tharn sighed, knowing he probably looked ridiculous, and answered once again, “A junior of mine does cover songs of various metal and rock bands at a bar. I’m standing in as their temporary drummer because theirs broke his wrist last week. My junior plays mostly foreign bands from the West. You can come if you like. I think you’ll be okay, but don’t start a fight and don’t go into the mosh pit.”
“It’s like a dance floor, but more violent.”
“I thought you didn’t play ‘heavy metal’? Your band plays pop.”
“How do you think I got the title as ‘God of Drums’ Type?”
“Are you coming or not?”
Type thought a bit before deciding, “Fine. I’ll come, but only because I want to see this ‘God of Drums’ in action. Maybe he’ll get a little action after.” Type sauntered away as he went to go change into something more appropriate for tonight. He texted both Techno and Champ to join him, so as to be less lonely and to protect himself incase things got out of hand.
About an hour later, Tharn and Type arrived at a bar that was a little far from the university. A neon sign in red and green was outside the front, that formed the shape of a bloody skull with a green ‘x’ over each eye socket. The name read “Sinner’s Den” on at the bottom of the sign, with a red neon arrow beckoning those inside it.
“Great. We’re going to die here.”
“Stop being so negative Type. It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“If we die, I’m going to kick your ass in the next lifetime.”
“Just come on.”
The couple exited the vehicle and were then met by Type’s friends and entered the bar. People were already there, most having looked like they’ve murdered someone before. Everyone wore leather jackets, chains, piercings, boots, etc.
“Oho…” Techno said warily.
“Shut your mouth.” Type mouthed you his friend. Type then directed his attention to his husband and said, “Go backstage or something. I’m going to stay at the bar.”
Tharn nodded and disappeared behind a door to the side of the stage.
Type then took his friends to the bar, sitting at the left edge of it. Type made sure Techno sat in the corner, while Champ sat on his other side. Type was put in the middle. On Champ’s right was a lady with long, blue hair and a septum piercing. She wore black lipstick and dark eyeshadow upon her wheat-colored skin She chuckled at the sight of them, to which all of them ignored.
“What do you want, newbies?” Asked the bartender, whose arms were tatted all to hell. He was a big guy with dark skin and a darker hair that was slicked back into a ponytail.
“Three whiskey shots.” Said Type. The bartender said nothing after that and quickly poured their drinks.
About ten minutes later, a women’s voice came on the speakers, sounding almost like a growl. “What’s up my people?! Are you ready to rock?!” Loud cheering came in response to woman, who now Type had seen.
Her hair was a bright, fiery red and her make up was dark and black, besides her red lipstick, that made her pale skin glow brighter. She looked mixed raced judging from her pointy nose and she was skinny. She had several piercings in her ears and one on her nose. Her arms held several tattoos-a dragon, a dagger, and a skull-which stopped at her wrists, which had 2 metal, bone-like accessories on each hand. Her nails were short and back, much akin to her black ripped skinny jeans and combat boots. She wore a very thin, gray tank top that showed her black bra underneath.
“I can’t hear you! I said ARE YOU READY TO ROCK?!” Cheering again came from the crowd as they got more and more riled up. “Now that’s better. Here’s some My Chemical Romance by your favorite cover band, Party of Downers!” The woman then started to sing. “NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA!”
This definitely wasn’t anything Type had heard of, nor something he was familiar with Tharn playing. Type hadn’t really ever bothered to listen to foreign bands, besides the occasional K-pop song every now and again. Type just knew of the cutesy love songs Tharn’s band would usually play. The foreign lyrics were so strange and yet so powerful. Type couldn’t help but dance to it too, jumping up and down while head banging.
After she was done with the song, she sauntered to the center of the stage. “Okay, since everyone is pumped up now, how about we do a little introduction? We skipped that, so might as well do it now. Why? Because I have the mic and you don’t.” The crowed laughed with her. She raised her hands and the room went silent as she lowered them. She took the mic out of the stand and moved to stage left. “For all of you new people here, my name is Dusk.” Then she put her arm around the guy next to her. He wore his dyed-blonde hair half-shaved on the left, covering his right eye. He was fit and wore a green muscle shirt and ripped jeans, showing off the snake on his left shoulder. His left ear held a single silver hoop. “This is Day, our bassist. And that’s Dawn, our guitarist.” She pointed to the black haired girl opposite from her, as she let go of the bassist. The girl had a similar pale complexion to her and figure. She wore a black crop top and black skinny jeans. Then she smiled and showed off two fangs, that were obviously the result of cosmetic surgery, through her black lips. The crowd cheered and Dusk shushed them again. She moved to center staged again. “Now normally we would have Night here, but he broke his wrist. So instead I invited a friend. So give it up for P’ Tharn.” Tharn raised a drumstick and quickly lowered it.
Applause emanated from the crowd, but what Type found interesting was the lack of honorifics used for her bandmates, but called Tharn “phi”.
“Okay. Now that that’s done, “I Miss the Misery” by Halestorm.”
The next songs would be: “You Call Me A Bitch Like It’s a Bad Thing” and “Mz. Hyde” by Halestorm; “Ignorance” and “Misery Business” by Paramore; “Teenagers” by My Chemical Romance; “Bang Bang” by Green Day; “If You Can’t Hang” by Sleeping With Sirens; “Bullet Proof Love” and “Bulls in the Bronx” by Pierce the Veil.
When the night was coming to an end, Dusk announced, “Okay, I have one last song, a metal cover from P’ Tharn’s band. Here’s ‘Be Mine.’”
The lyrics were still in Thai, but now the song was much different. For one, it seemed more violent and darker. The intro was almost the same, besides sounding more sinister, but when the chorus came a demon started yelling into the mic. When the chorus completed, Dusk had a smirk on her face. Type thought that the song sounded creepier, but then he thought more about it and realized that the lyrics were already kind of creepy. Type knew these were Lhong’s feelings, but Lhong was somewhere else now. Out of sight, out of mind. Type had taken his fourth shot of the night, but was still mostly fine-a bit tipsy at most. Champ and Techno were also fine…well Champ was for the most part. Champ hadn’t taken more than one drink since he was driving Techno home and Techno was too scared to get hammered in a place like this, but ended up half-way to wasted.
Once the song ended, the band took a bow and the lights went dark on the stage. The bartender then shouted over the crowd’s roars and said, “CLOSING IN 30!”
Type then looked at his phone, which was at 23%, and realized it was 2 in the morning. “Ai’ Champ. Why don’t you take Ai’ No back now?” Techno was flopping around a bit like a fish, babbling as he rolled around on the bar.
“You’ll be fine?”
“Everyone’s leaving. I’ll be in the back.”
“Fine. Come on Ai’ No.”
Champ carried Techno back to his car and drove back safely. Type crept his way backstage to find Tharn and get the hell out of there. As much as Type enjoyed the music, the people still creeped him out a bit. The athlete quickly scurried and eventually found where the band was. But he was stopped by a security guard part way through.
“Are you lost sir?”
“I’m a friend drummer. He said to come back here after the show.”
“I’m sorry sir, but I cannot let you back here.”
“Can’t you just get him?” Type was irritated a bit, but knew the man was just doing his job.
Then a voice called out, “What’s going on?” A red haired girl came out behind the security guard.
Type rolled his and explained, “Tharn said to meet him backstage after the show. I’m his friend.”
Type recognized the girl as the vocalist. She asked him, “Is your name Type?”
“Follow me then.”
The security guard moved aside as Type followed the girl down the hallway and through a black door.
“P’ Tharn. I have your man.” Dusk plopped herself down on the couch and went on her phone. She was wearing a light blue jacket over her outfit and looked about ready to go home. The other two had finished packing up their instruments and were taking a breather before heading home.
“Thanks N’ Dusk.”
“No problem man. And I should thank you for standing in for Night.”
“You’re welcome. Just call me anytime you need me.”
“I don’t want to impose on you. I know this isn’t your scene Phi.”
“It’s really no problem.”
Type entered the room with arms folded and an eyebrow raised. He coughed and asked, “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
Dusk had stood up again and took an overly dramatic bow to the chocolate skinned man, whipping her long red hair in the process. “I am Dusk Sirikit Juntasa. I am 22 years old. Dawn Sirirat is my twin sister. Day Surat is the baby. And Night Surin is the oldest and he’s at home resting. And the next question in your head, Phi, is yes. We are half-Thai on our mom’s side. Dad is an American. We lived there until we got into high school. Learning your langauge wasn’t so hard though, considering Mom taught it to us since we were born.”
Type hadn’t expected to be given a life story and was kind of annoyed. He rolled his eyes and then waiied to her. He gave his praise to her performance and then took his husband to part ways.
“I didn’t know you could play drums like that. How long did you practice?”
“A week per song? I’ve been playing for so long, so it’s not hard to pick up on. Drums don’t change language.”
“Whatever you say wifey.”
Comics changed for me irrevocably when saw my first HM in class in 1974 and saw my first Drunna by the great Amedeo Serpiari! And they’ve never went back to that Long Island Stan Lee crap.so any woman who replicates that Italian cartoon ,it has been inculcated in me from Jo Collins to Wendy Fiore automatically is noticed by me. So was glad to see a channel put on Hot in Cleavland reruns, as have adorated at the temple of tv sitcom Minerva, Valerie Bertinelli, since still had a future. But saw the last few shows these days, and it unnerved me that each of these women had in the end, not only dried Leeves again chased forcefully, don’t ask me why, they were all married off. Somehow these older women had to be turned into literal brood mares, babies and licenced like does, the dream of all queers who never read the City and the pilar. All women had to be married off, to go along with the perpetual war unnoticed at Georgetown dinners with the praetor…? I Held out hope, just for laughes, and some dignaty too, they would implausably but true to the gods of comedy and tragedy leave, of all people, beautious still Valerie as the aging, but still cutie pie, as fine with being alone, but not for long with that body. And they dare begrudge me Stappopola and Shady groves….? God, I said aloud out here alone in the midnight dark, What f@g and or white woman and or house everything wrote this crud, as it again underminded all that came before, as the next show was the first and you knew where it was sadly heading. Valerie should be on a ladder to the moon. Then felt bad remembered that I missed the new Cosmos. Well all I needed to know about art and politics I learned from Roman comedy, AND when see old coot Buden thinking by now it would all be brought to him, like how this geriatric got his molestation victims. As there is a line in Plautus again where the slave Psedulus, says Miles Gloriosus is the war mongering buffoon the Romans booedand hated, perpetual wars get their boys , like Colberts long dead, somewhere, that the chicken Hawks never recall. …hummmn, can make a mound of bodies to the moon, but that won’t make it mount Olympus nor he Master jove either, a line Cato used at the Rubicon against Caesar that I’ll bet Bill Clinton knows by heart. I have to make lunch before That Girl, as the Italian girl parexcellance she and her Capt. dumdum never let me down.
Justin: How are you not terrified right now?
Vinny: I’ve seen Ricky and Chris get mad at each other.
Wednesday, September 23: Powers Court, “Darkened Paradise”
Nine Kinds of Hell was either 6 years early or 20 years late, depending on the listener. Powers Court’s second album wasn’t power metal, though it certainly had traces of it, but the trad metal chugging on “Darkened Paradise” didn’t really have anything to do with the burgeoning New Wave of US Heavy Metal scene either. Instead, the track was kind of its own thing, certainly indebted to the ‘80s but not sounding dated thanks to Danie Powers and her vaguely witchy vocals. Powers alternately sang, crooned, bellowed and even seemingly tried slam poetry towards the end, juxtaposing her voice nicely against her Hetfield-esque riffing. “Darkened Paradise” was rather well-executed and recorded given its low-budget nature, and demonstrated that Powers Court were a traditional metal outfit that wasn’t afraid to add a couple twists to the mix.