FUCK SCOTT WEILAND. I’m glad you’ve been able to get this far based on your limited vocal range and ability to mimic the same style of on-stage dancing that Bowie and Iggy Pop were doing thirty years ago, but seriously, stop trying to compete with Axl Rose for the “Biggest Asshole” award – Axl will beat your ass every time. Calling Slash by his real name in a press release does not make you clever. Claiming the name “Velvet Revolver” was your idea does not make you cool. You’ve always had to suck off the musical talent teat of others, and every time I think about the fact that Layne Staley couldn’t get it together while you go on and on and on I die a little inside. I hope the DeLeo brothers stab you in the eyes with your fucking needles. And fuck your wife Mary, too.
FUCK ROBB FLYNN. I’m a huge Machine Head fan, but telling people that you “once punched some kid in the face for saying that Gary Holt sucked” is moronic. Metal is supposed to be about blowing off steam in a healthy way so as to avoid actual neanderthal behavior. There are plenty of legitimate reasons to fight in this world, but someone insulting the fucking guitar player from Exodus is not one of them. Put more simply: You either a) actually did punch some dude for talking shit about Holt and are therefore a bona fide moron or b) are lying about punching some dude for talking shit about Holt and are therefore a bona fide moron. Also, every Machine Head album in-between Burn My Eyes and Through the Ashes of Empires was a cock sucking trend chasing waste of time. Deal with it.
FUCK MARIA BRINK. Someone told me that if you see her up close she’s not actually hot, but after looking closely at some candid photos (like this one), I realized you don’t really have to be very close to her all to see that she looks like a fucking rodent. Has this bitch had too much plastic surgery (excuse me, “work done”), or does she really just look like my morning crap? Also, did you know that she sells hand drawn pictures and poems on her MySpace page (I won’t link to it, go find it if you’re so fucking interested)? I haven’t read the poems but the pictures look like they were drawn by a retarded five year old. Stop wearing that stupid blue dress and trying to exploit your non-existent looks to cover up for your lack of talent. I hope Christina Scabbia kicks you in the twat.
Fuck me for writing this, and fuck you for reading it. I’m gonna go kill a fucking bunny that made fun of Alex Skolnick.
-AR
When people talk about neo-thrash bands like Warbringer, their words usually carry a subtle hint of disdain. I concede that it’s hard not to mention what they are (neo-Bay Area Thrash) before saying how good they are (very). But to brand Warbringer (or Municipal Waste) fetishizers of a bygone era implies something vaguely untrustable, beyond a mere affection for the Thrash idiom. And it’s true, there’s little about Warbringer that suggests an original vision. All the same, their debut full-length War Without End and now the Gary Holt-produced Waking Into Nightmares are too awesome to be the creation of some tribute band; it’s simply not possible that Warbringer is comprised of five masters of mimicry. Rather, it’s clear they feel that Bay Area-native bands did shit right. And now they do.
