I don’t know if this applies in other parts of the world, but here in ‘Merica, there’s a bizarrely large market for 80′s hair metal cover bands. The most pathetic ones are “tribute bands” that focus on one particular group (e.g., the “tribute band” Mr. Brownstone plays all GN’R songs) and whose members actually dress up like/pretend to be the original members of the band in question; somewhat less irritating are the ones that are basically bar bands that get up and just play a ton of covers by a ton of different artists. Winters Mistress, as far as I can tell, fall into the latter category.

Or, I guess I should say, fell into the latter category. Because, as demonstrated in the highly entertaining video below, the band broke-up. In the middle of a show.

Best parts about this:

• The guitar player declaring “I’m going solo”… as though anyone gives a shit.
• The vocalist attempting to continue the song without the rest of the band.
• All their haircuts.

Enjoy!

-AR

[via Badass Digest]

No. I am not kidding.

Nor am I upset. If you don’t liked this song, I take issue with you.

-AR

[via SkullsNBones]

You know what your summer has been lacking? Some hair metal! I’m a little bummed I’m missing the shit show that is sure to be the Motley Crue/Poison/New York Dolls tour, but, luckily, I’ve got another gem of concert. Continuing with my summer of nostalgic shame, I recently saw Bon Jovi in Istanbul. Yep, Bon Jovi. First Slipknot, and now Jersey’s finest. God, throw in some KMFDM or the Mortal Kombat soundtrack and we’ll complete the trifecta of my youthful metal faux pas: nu-industrial-hair. Doesn’t that sound like a terrible, terrible fashion subculture? I’m sure it already exists in Japan.

Anyways, I’ve been in and out of love with Bon Jovi for as long as I can remember. The past few years I’ve unfortunately let my love turn into hate (whooaa-hooo [I didn’t] keep the faith), but I think this show has pushed me back into neutral territory, bordering on affection. Apparently, I just can’t quit the on-going story of Tommy and Gina.

Now, a lot of you might consider attending a Bon Jovi concert lame. I’m not here to dissuade you. But I do think that I ventured so totally into lameness at this show that at one point it became ironic and, thus, really cool. Maybe. I don’t know how these things work.

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Am I high or is it weird that in 2011 nobody touts the first two Skid Row records as mega-masterpieces? What has undermined lasting renown? Is it that those jams are too heavy for radio listeners and not aggro enough for metal fans? Did major line-up changes doom them to be written off (except for the three enduring singles)? Is it Sebastian Bach’s fault? Is the rest of the band too stubborn and unambitious? Really, has there been a more compelling, awesome, and fearless heavy rock record since? Help me figure this out?

To me, it’s not a problem per se that one-time Skid Row vocalist Sebastian Bach is a huge jackass. One, his all-time top ten singing chops justify extreme arrogance and render decency unnecessary; two, reality TV and morning radio has immunized us all to dunderheads of Bach’s type. So fans are over it, right? Yet it’s still possible that Bach’s exhausting bimbo-ism has quieted the global and unanimous mega-acclaim that Skid Row deserves. How?

Think about it: Is it not Bach-related acrimony among the members of Skid Row that hamstrings their legacy-building? No reunion tours, no massive retrospectives, no anniversary celebrations. No documentaries, no tribute albums, no peer buzz. It’s probably Bach’s spaztardation that makes these things impossible. Click to read more…

In March we found out that Converge were working on a split 7″ with Dropdead; now, thanks to Lambgoat, we know the release date of that split — June 21 — and the title of the Converge song that will appear on the album — “Runaway.” Despite my greatest wishes, there is currently no evidence that this is a cover of the classic Bon Jovi album.

And, uh, that’s it, really. We get one new Converge song in 2011. Hey, beats nothing!

I don’t have a pre-order link or anything, but if you keep your eyes peeled to the Deathwish website, I’m sure something will pop up sooner or later.

-AR

American Idol week 9

Wed: The final 12 perform songs from their birth years

Thur: Live results plus tons of bullshit

Misery index: Kill me

Tyler-o-meter: Double bonerz

Live television production seems like heavy-duty work, and that might explain why this week’s American Idol shows overflowed with easily avoided gaffes, stillborn gags, puzzling messages, and momentum-killing guest spots. It started with host Ryan Seacrest’s hailing of the show’s ahem “ten-year anniversary” and picked up stinky steam with a laughable guys vs. gals mash-up of “Born To Be Wild” and “Born This Way.” The messages: Copywriters need pay no heed to second-grade language study and men are “wild” while women are in need of acceptance. (Bonus message: It’s acceptable to plagiarize a Madonna song.)

What followed a second car spot featuring the Idol hopefuls (barf) was a montage of Q&As in which they talked up their childhood dreams (only one dreamt of a singing career) and special talents (none included singing). Each segment was an attempt to endear viewership to these personality-free showbiz kids, but more closely approximated a high-school AV club project and online dating profile reject reel, respectively.

Then came performances from the reigning Idol champ (Coldplay wants their piano part back) and the reigning champs of defective robot rap (Chuck E. Cheese wants his stage act back), each of which demonstrated the ease of spurring a standing ovation in the Idol torturedome. And as soon as judge Jennifer Lopez was done assigning the blame for Jacob’s pitch problems to the front of house mixing team, contestants Haley, Naima, and Karen were placed in the Bottom Three (I just watched Irreversible before Wednesday’s show; the term Bottom Three is particularly revolting). At least four Idol singers should’ve been swept right out into the street by Sandman Sims; alas, only one was eliminated.

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Hellyeah have a new video for “Better Man,” a song unreasonable people would probably argue isn’t a power ballad. In the video, the band sits around someone’s house for no apparent reason and plays the song, all while remembering some pseudo-romantic tragic bullshit.

And if all this seems familiar, well, it ought to: sitting around a random house and playing a power ballad while remembering some pseudo-romantic tragic bullshit was one of hair metal’s silliest clichés. Take, for example…

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Welcome to “Question of the Week,” a (sometimes) weekly debate amongst the MetalSucks staff regarding a recent hot button issue.

Last week we asked you, oh beloved readers, to suggest some QOTW, and there were actually a number of good queries posited. So we kinda just picked one at random, and then we’ll do some others in the coming weeks. In the meantime, this week’s question, from Tim, is:

WHAT ALBUM ORIGINALLY GOT YOU INTO METAL?

The MS staff’s answers after the jump.

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I like music videos. I don’t mean just lame concert footage videos either. (I get it, Band, you can play your instruments like, really well. In front of people!) No, I mean the amazing, overblown, explosions and nonsensical storylines, holy shit is that a cameo by jailbait Keri Russell in bra?!, looks like it was directed by Michael Bay, epic mini-movies. In fact, Meat Loaf’s, “I Would Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That),” has pretty much all of the aforementioned, except one. I won’t say which one, just look it up*. It is the most amazing seven minutes ever.  Except for the part where he prays to the god of, “Sex, and drums, and rock’n’roll.” Come on, now, you’re not fooling anyone.

The other night I couldn’t sleep. So I ended up watching music videos until the sun came up. I did not have a good day that day. Of course, I watched metal videos. (Okay fine, like half were Meat Loaf videos. He kind of hovers on the periphery of metal, right? He was in Rocky Horror Picture Show, he played a totally awesome biker named Eddie! Isn’t his daughter married to Scott Ian? Fringes, he’s on the fringes. Shut up, Meat Loaf is awesome. Even more so when I can’t type and write “Meat Load.” Good job proof-reading at 5:40 a.m.)

Videos were my first introduction to many bands. They were like trailers for records, and the more confusing and “deep” they were, the more interested I got. I’m not saying there are no good videos anymore, but I just can’t believe we live in a time where it’s no longer cool to shred shirtless on a cliff while your bandmate gets married but then it starts raining and the bride is dead and Axl Rose is swimming with dolphins while Stephanie Seymour beats up a girl in a bar. I mean, maybe it’s a good thing bands don’t go bankrupt after videos anymore. and the Guns N’ Roses trilogy more than borders on the ridiculous (Hi Shannon Hoon! I see you, there on the roof!) but let’s take a look at some that kind of stuck with me.

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At the Accept show I went to last week, I had a pretty funny moment with the boy when I said that it sounded like they were singing “We are nice” instead of “Neon nights.” Which got me thinking: I mishear lyrics a lot. It could be because I’m deaf, or people just don’t enunciate, or that most of the bands I listen to don’t really know English that well so they probably are singing stupid shit. Or it could be that I’d rather hear something than what I actually do — I mean, Bob Ezrin wanted a new, edgy song to appeal to those hip youngsters and thought Alice Cooper was singing “I’m edgy,” instead of “I’m eighteen.” Personally, I’m way more entertained with what my brain, or other people’s brains (as I got some volunteers for this task), comes up with. So here are a few songs that made it to my Misheard Lyrics Hall of Fame.

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Okay, let’s imagine you’re at a party on the beach, and as you’re packing a fourth slice of pizza into your face, you overhear someone state unequivocally that Bon Jovi and The Beastie Boys are more important than Rush. You’d grimace, but, hey, sales are sales and impact is debatable. It’s a party; be nice.

Then, as you resurface from a sand puddle gravity bong hit, that someone continues with an assertion that Rush is also less vital to modern music than the guy with the big spoken word hit about boffing mermaid chicks (or something) and, oh, let’s not forget the singer of a Phil Spector holiday song who went on to co-star in the Lethal Weapon films. (Jesus, does Scorsese get more than one vote?)

Finally, as you grit your teeth and instinctively glare at the source of these statements, your ears are raped by further by the spoken implication that Rush doesn’t measure up to the motherfucking J. Geils Band.

Party or no party, by now you’re mindlessly stomping this dumbshit into a dust just on principle. It’s like temporary insanity, right? “Had to be done,” you’d tell the judge. “Your honor, you’ve heard that song ‘Freeze Frame.’ Rush Pride for life!”

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Man, Aerosmith guitarist Joe Perry is having a rough month. First, his arch-frenemy Steven Tyler finalized a spot on that TV show about pre-failures caterwauling hit songs while nervous. And this follows know-it-all beardo John Kalodner’s description of Perry as “completely wrong,” “jealous,” and “ultra-pissed off,” which supposes that Perry hoped that the AI judge seat was to be shared by the Toxic Talkshit Twins. Actually that would’ve been cute, every week Tyler perched gamely on Perry’s lap, stroking his abs while some featureless shriek-droid performs “Don’t Stop Believin’” to a theater of fame-wet spectators. Well, that’s what I dreamt last night anyway. Cough.

Anyhow, when Perry awoke and rolled off a pile of my money this morning, he was probably too crabby to just ignore the announcement that his band is the latest victim of an Atreyu Cover Version attack. It happened to Bon Jovi in 2004, when Atreyu launched an emo-guided missile of Twilight-level corniness at “You Give Love A Bad Name” (I complained all about it on The Deciblog). Then, an unapologetic lameness mine overturned both Faith No More’s “Epic” and “Clean Sheets” by The Descendents in 2008 and holy shit let’s not validate that type of ear-terrorism with discussion of any kind. (It never happened if everyone on Earth denies it. You fuckin’ deny that shit.)

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Girl metal fans kind of have to work harder to gain credibility. We get scoffed at for trying to be “cool,” and (allegedly) not really liking the music, are accused of being posers who couldn’t name a non-“Ace of Spades” Motorhead song if our lives depended on it, and just plain using metal to get guys. (And I have to interrupt myself with an “Are you freakin’ kidding me?!” I’ve loved metal since I was seven, and my first boyfriend came about thirteen years later.) And the first couple of bands that popped into my head for this piece were all set to be platforms for my incredibly high horse, from whence I would preach about the wonder that is genuine female metal fans. And no, I do not mean Juggalettes.

But then I changed my mind. There’s one other thing us girls have to put up with, and that’s defending our right to like “girly metal.” Hair, glam, power, those bands with guys in full tattoo bodysuits and stupid hair, and some other genres are accused of being not “metal” enough. which is  (again, allegedly) “why girls like them.” Which is true to some extent, I guess; I mean, ask me to name all the members of Ratt and I’ll counter with, “Which incarnation?” and then give you all of them anyway. But I honestly can’t distinguish between Bring Me the Horizon or Bullet for My Valentine. I’ve only heard of the latter because I went to a Maiden show where they opened and got booed (and it was amazing), and the former from stuff on this site. But I have come to accept my taste in “girly metal,” and to put it simply: Fuck you, I can listen to whatever I want. My pick for album of a day is from a band I’ve had a love-hate relationship from the age of seven on.

Bon Jovi. I liked Bon Jovi just because my older cousin did, and she was awesome and I wanted to be just like her.  On the night of my seventh birthday, my parents took me to a Bon Jovi concert.  It was my first concert and I only knew “Living on a Prayer” (which I will argue is the best arena-metal song ever), so for most of the concert, I was pretty damn bored… until they played that very song. I was awed into a stupefied state of wonder. I mean, I had heard the song before, but it was completely different live, with an entire stadium of people screaming along to it. That song is an institution, and it sort of bugs me that it’s now a dumbass frat guy anthem at bars, but hey, at least people are enjoying it ,right? From that night on, I made it my business to own every Bon Jovi album I could find. My family totally supported me, as Bon Jovi has been one of two bands that we can all agree on (the other is Queen). We were pretty devoted for a while.

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When the Key Club in West Hollywood closed its doors in December 2009, the eight-legged party beast Steel Panther had to find a new hair rock habitat for their weekly shows. At first, it was a relief when Michael Starr and crew cock-strutted a few blocks down Sunset to the House of Whites Blues: admission got cheaper, the room bigger, and sound better. But, for the sleaze of hair rock, a music venue/shopping mall/tourist trap isn’t the preferred setting. So sometime around March, I started to long for a return to the safety of a drug-friendly sweat hole with dark corners and unpolice-able bathrooms. After all, the Key Club was once the site of Ben Gazzari’s eponymous rock club, where the sleaze don once proudly showcased his barely-legal harem and, for VIPs, his somewhat prescient home video skills; meanwhile, HoB has a freakin’ gift shop.

You’d want maximum possible sleaze, too, once you survey the crowd. It’s mostly tourists (literally and figuratively), but filled out with solitary guys like me, unaccompanied and dead serious, fidgeting through extended bouts of boob-flashing  (our sighs seem to say “Just show ‘em already and let’s get on with the Whitesnake covers!”) and secretaries-gone-wild sing-alongs (not to be a sandy vagina, but I submit that “Don’t Stop Believin’” is not hair rock). Our visual mating call is a non-ironic hair metal shirt and a general vibe of impatience for the super hits.

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So, yeah, it turns out there’s a burgeoning metal scene in Maldives, and we even know some peeps who have either worked there or may work there in the future. Does that mean we’ll take a vacation there soon? Fuck do we look like, Wes Borland?

Here’s some other shit that happened this week:

• We were re-joined by some old friends: Porn star Bobbi Starr talked about the world’s most metal porn, and Dallas Coyle pondered the road to happiness.
• We debuted an exclusive excerpt from Dave Mustaine’s memoirs, and are giving you a chance to meet the man himself.
• We spoke to Woody Weatherman from C.O.C. and Roxana Shirazi, author of The Last Living Slut.
• We checked out new releases by Clutch and The Acacia Strain and I Declare War.
• Sergeant D. taught us about the history of slam.
• We defended Eddie Van Halen from Dave Davies.
• We climbed a Wall of Douche.
• We met The Crud Wizard…
• …who is infinitely cooler than the dude from ICP’s ree-ree son.
• Also, BON JOVI + BOOBIES!!!

Okay. Gonna go to an awesome Cynic show now. Lates.

-AR

After the jump is a photograph that was sent to me today by an anonymous reader. This photograph I guess would be considered NSFW, although I don’t know why — the nudity is completely tasteful. In fact, I’m not sure who took this portrait (Ross Halfin, perhaps?), but it’s striking: gritty, real, honest, and gorgeous. I think it’s so terrific, in fact, that I feel the need to dissect it.

If all glam bands took photos this good, the world might have taken them more seriously. Kudos to Bon Jovi for participating in such a radical work of art.

See the photograph in question after the jump; my thoughts follow.

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One day mankind will go extinct and the remains of our civilization will later be picked over by aliens. Though they can speedily assemble collections of most homo erectus artifacts for their alien museums, their super-brains will struggle to grasp and group the arts of Earth, y’know, for their encyclopedias and stuff. So it’s in the interest of preserving and defining Glam Metal across the cosmos that we at MetalSucks have counted down the Ten Best Must-Have Glam Metal Albums. We even tapped in to the genius of Bring Back Glam‘s Allyson B. Crawford to give it that “definitive text” feel. (Read part one, part two, part three)

Thanks to Allyson and our Anso DF, Glam Metal will live on in other worlds long after our planet has become a barren hellscape. That’s comforting. Here’s the number one Best Must-Have Glam Metal Album! So, come now children of the beast, be strong and …

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We now rejoin Allyson B. Crawford (Bring Back Glam!) and Anso DF (MetalSucks) and their riveting analysis of Glam Metal’s Ten Best Must-Have Records.

Get caught up on yesterday’s action here.

***

7. TRASH - Alice Cooper

July 25, 1989 // Epic Records // p: Desmond Child

The hits: “Poison” “Bed of Nails” “House of Fire” “Only My Heart Talkin’”

The heart: “Hell Is Living Without You” “Spark In The Dark” “I’m Your Gun”

Anso: So by 1989′s Trash, Coop had been in a booze stupor for like seven straight albums. The good news was that his successful comeback tour inspired some check-writing at Epic Records. But that support came with strict control, or at least that’s what the presence of Bon Jovi/Kiss/Aerosmith/Ratt hit-maker Desmond Child implies. So Allyson, what’s your stance on Desmond Child?

Allyson: I got to interview Alice Cooper once. One of the highlights of my life, I swear. The man rules. He was all about sobriety when we spoke and I think that’s awesome. Now, Desmond Child. Oh my. I’ve written about him before on Bring Back Glam!. I suppose he is — no, he is a genius, but damn. Aerosmith is my favorite band of all time and Child sort of took away their grit. So that hurt. But for some people he really, really helped and that’s Alice Cooper. Alice needed a hit for a new generation and Trash came along at the right time, didn’t it? Oh and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to meet and interview Desmond Child, so there you go.

Anso: Hey, same here! His stuff is mega-cheesy, but so are delicious Cheetos. Plus, Detonator rules, so it’s easy to forgive misfires like “I Was Made For Lovin’ You.” Oh and of course I warmed to him after VH1 aired that hilarious footage of his collaboration with (and antagonism of) Vince Neil. You saw that right? “Hello-o! Successs!”

Allyson: Yeah, I’ve seen that. Oh, I’ve seen it.

Anso: Okay, Trash was buffed up by a full whack of celebrity guests: Richie Sambora and Jon Bon Jovi, Kip Winger, Guy Mann-Dude, Steve Lukather, and 80% of Aerosmith. I suppose they helped pull chicks and young people to this old man record. Did these guys make Trash more attractive to you in any way?

Allyson: Because I’m a chick? Well, here’s the thing about me. I’ll agree there are some hot guys in rock, but that doesn’t mean much to me when it comes to music I like. If the song rocks, awesome. If not, okay. I like tons of music that is mocked — often right here on MetalSucks, ha! — and I always “go my own way if you will.” Trash is awesome to me because I love the songs. “Only My Heart Talkin’” is a great love song, a completely different type of power ballad. But, back to guests. I usually don’t care about guest stars on albums. I buy records because I want to hear the real band — not a slew of guests, you know?

Anso: Yeah. I’m not an Alice Cooper scholar, but I’ll wager that Trash is his sexiest record. It’s a bit uncomfortable to hear a 41-year old Coop describe passionate banging.

Allyson: As you know, my dear Anso, sexy is in the eyes of the beholder.

Anso: Hey, let’s talk about Trash‘s super-hit, “Poison.” Can you think of any single in history with such a memorably quirky riff? It’s awesome on its own and I love how they set it against different chords in the intro.

Allyson: So I’ve talked to Alice guitarist Keri Kelli a few times. Once I said I was frustrated trying to learn bass and guitar parts for some Alice songs. And Keri said something like, “Look, if you want to learn ‘Poison’ it’s just going to take awhile.” This frustrated me because I have little patience. I think I got off the phone with Keri, looked at the guitar and then sat down with a bag of chips or something. Anyway, yes, “Poison” is freaking epic. One of the best songs of the ’80s. Then again, Alice is a master. I love when the band performs “Poison” live. The crowd always goes batshit crazy.

Anso: What else makes you love this record?

Allyson: Hmm. It’s the sum of its parts I guess. I think all the songs fit well together, there’s not really a dud and the album helped push Alice to the top again. The cover photo is iconic. It was in magazines first and then Alice chose it as his cover — so I remember seeing the image of Alice everywhere as a kid. I had this instant connection to the record I suppose.

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Since its inception by the typings of some clever music journalist in the 80s, the categorization “hair metal” (or “glam metal”) has been as amorphous and, consequently, as misused as “metalcore” has been in the aughties. And since it’s hair metal week here on MetalSucks, we thought we’d try to address this issue by pointing the spotlight on ten bands that are often, and incorrectly, deemed “hair metal.” And to that end…

I know what you’re thinking: “How the hell is Vince going to argue that Bon Jovi weren’t a hair metal band? Look at those guys! They’re the biggest poofty poofters of all time.” And you’d be right about all of things excepts for one: in order to be classified as hair metal, Bon Jovi would have to have been — or even aspired to be — a heavy metal band, when in fact they were just ordinary New Jersey dudebros playing pop. Pop in rock form with distorted guitars. Let’s call it hair pop.

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Well, no, not really.

The reliably hilarious Cracked sometimes holds these really excellent Photoshop contests; their latest asked readers to create rejected versions of famous album covers. A lot of the entries had nothing to do with metal, but a few of ‘em did – like these:

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