So we’re now five axe slingers deep into out list of The Top 25 Modern Metal Guitarists. We predicted that the list would get a lot of you angry, and, no shock, it has. Funny thing is, reading the comments, as of yet not one of you has correctly predicted which guitar player is gonna be #1. So, just lettin’ you know… you may be even angrier in the coming weeks, or maybe you’ll be less angry, but so far, it seems like you guys just do not see it comin’.

While you chew on that, here’s some other fun things we did this week:

• We premiered new music from Hate Eternal, Arch Enemy, and Nader Sadek.
• We enjoyed a new episode of “Cooking Contaminated,” this one featuring King Fowley of Deceased.
• We checked out the latest releases from Benighted and Zubrowska.
• We wondered if Metallica and friends have gone too far in their quest for the Big Fortune.
• We checked out some *real* hardcore.
• We weighed Donald Trump’s claim that President Obama was the first drummer for Overkill.
• We wondered why talent can’t be passed down via genetics.
• We weighed, compared and contrasted multiple metal concerts showcasing female-fronted bands.
• We prayed for Kurt Cobain to rise from his grave and off Miley Cyrus.
• We wondered whether or not Dave Grohl is gonna be on the new Mastodon album.

And so, in conclusion… I am going to get a slice of pizza now.

See ya next week.

-AR

If you like songs about castles, monsters, and wizards, you are probably a metal fan. And I get it: what better way to escape from the brutal reality of being, well, who you are?? I can’t fault you for wanting to escape, but that’s never been me. I like the way metal sounds, but I can’t get with the ridiculous lyrics, costumes and all that. When it comes down to it I am a hardcore kid, and I will always like bands who keep it real (even if they end up being a little bit lulzy along the way). More specifically, I have a pretty serious self-destructive streak, so I’ve always been drawn to bands who are more about being fucked up, confused and angry than emo/p0litical [via college freshmen].

When a lot of these bands come up, the fanboys come out of the woodwork with third-hand stories about stuff they supposedly did and how tough and “crazy” they are. You won’t find any of that here– I’ll save the gossip for the little girls and Euro fanbois, but if you are interested you can consult the Bridge 9 “Hardcore rumors and myths” thread, Frank 151′s DMS issue, or my interview with Ezec and fap away. This is about their actual music, not addressing your feelings of inadequacy by making up exaggerated stories about guys in bands to turn them into the alpha male you always wished you could be.

In this post, I will share some of my favorite REAL HARDCORE bands- I’m leaving out the obvious stuff like Terror, Hatebreed, etc because we all know about that. I’m also not including any emo, political or artsy bands, so no Chokehold, Converge, Botch, and all that nonsense. And if you want to show everyone that “you really know what you’re talking about” and tell me that I should be into JFA, Violent Children, Impact Unit, and Deep Wound that’s cool too- feel free to leave a comment to that effect!

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We’ve all been there. Tensions are high in some packed, sweaty venue, sparked by feverish excitement and the potential for violence. These people paid good money to enjoy some type of cathartic release. The frontman for whatever hard-nu-death-crab-metal-core outfit is brazen and demanding. Can you believe this shit? You PAID to be entertained, and this guy is telling YOU what to do! The speech goes something like this: “I want everybody in this room moving! Front to back, side to side, NO ONE STANDS STILL! When this part kicks in, I want total [Insert destructive word here like "chaos," "mayhem," or "bedlam" if you're witty]. If the person next to you isn’t moving, MAKE THEM MOVE!” Than, if the action is not adequate, this screamer/pep rally organizer calls YOU some variation of “pussy” or “faggot” or really anything to make you feel like a soft, womanly bitch of a man in order to get in that pit and kick another grown man in the face, all in the spirit of making this band look like they are awesome. But then something happens, as if the air is sucked out of the room at the moment of impact – when those glorious staccato chugs kick in, the crowd is almost always powerless to its charms regardless of the obvious lack of substance. Like junk food and reality TV, we have a love affair with breakdowns.

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