MetalSucks

The fine folks at the unfuckwithable Deciblog have published a list of the Top 10 Manliest Metal Album Covers of all time, and the results are extremely manly indeed. I was thrilled at the inclusion of Accept’s super-studly Balls to the Wall, and not one but two Manowar covers. My only suggestion would have been Poison’s uber-hetero Look What the Cat Dragged In, but I’m sure Decibel would rather shut its doors forever than proclaim anything by Poison manly in the slightest.

On Accept, those German stud-machines, who came in at #4:

Uh, this album cover has been poured over by many a metalhead. What does it mean? What are Accept trying to communicate here? Should I feel slightly uncomfortable when I gaze upon this man’s sweaty/hairy tensed-up leg? Why is he holding a ball? What type of ball is it? It looks hard. How do I know this? Well, the man’s veins are showing. Not his main vein (thank Thor in a g-string!), but the veins in his hand. All these years and we still haven’t reached a conclusion. And, yes, even now we’re slightly uncomfortable.

Touche.

-VN

So I’ve been living in the UK for about four months now, and have managed to take in quite a lot of this “culture” thing they’re so fond of over here. I’ve been to nine countries, eight major metal festivals, and a handful of cities in Ol’ Blighty itself; I’ve gate-crashed hotel parties in Norway with the drummer of Swallow the Sun, stage-dived into a sea of muddy grind freaks in the Czech Republic, gotten roaring drunk with Wolves in the Throne Room in the Netherlands, met Gaahl’s boyfriend in France, gotten lost in Rome, watched Electric Wizard blow an amp in Manchester, lost my mind to Eyehategod at Hellfest, seen Manowar (‘nuff said there) – and that was just the first couple months. Between all the metal, mud, bruises, whiskey, calimocho, hard cider, and terrifying Czech liquor (Becherovka and Fernet are no fucking joke, even if it is Kevin Sharp and Danny Herrera pouring you a shot), I realized that, somehow, something was still missing.

To my immense chagrin, I had yet to take that all-too-necessary pilgrimage up through the Black Country and into the Unholy Land itself – to Birmingham, England. Every metaller worth his leather (and several million other music fans besides) knows exactly why this unimpressive, coal-smudged city matters so much. Birmingham is the ancestral home of heavy metal. Everything – whether it be doom, black metal, powerviolence, or even the plague that is deathcore – everything came from here. The famed Mermaid Pub provided a fertile breeding ground for extreme metal, nestled as it was in a dodgy part of town where the cops ignored the punkers and longhairs milling around out front as the early rumblings of a deadly new sound thundered away upstairs The city itself was the original stomping ground of the dirty sexy hard rock’n’roll of Led Zeppelin, the NWOBHM gods in Judas Priest, the crusty proto-grind of Sore Throat, the scummy grindcore forefathers of Napalm Death, the industrial noise terror of Godflesh, and the one and only BLACK FUCKING SABBATH.

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You bitched and moaned about daylight savings time, even though you were asleep when the clocks changed and you get an extra hour of daylight every day until November. You are all retards.

Here’s what else happened this week:

• Sigh’s Mirai Kawashima gave us another studio report (no naked Dr. Mikannibal pics, sorry), Early Man’s Mike Conte got his cheesesteak on, and Neuraxis’ Alexandre Leblanc gave us his final tour blog.
• We spoke with Darkane’s Christofer Malmstrom, Meshuggah’s Marten Hagstrom, Soilwork’s Peter Wichers and Ross the Boss (ex-Manowar)
• Our man-crush on Trent Reznor grew ever greater.
• You argued over who was the most important member of Metallica, past and present.
• We looked at new releases by Razor of Occam and Karl Sanders.
• It was a big week in the Norwegian courts… the Gorgoroth case was settled, and Varg was granted parole.
• Crazytown and Skunk Anansie are getting back together.

Next week Kip and I take off for Austin, TX on Wednesday. We’ll be live-blogging whenever possible. To everyone else, have fun not being there, suckazzz!!

-VN

As a guitarist, Ross “Ross the Boss” Funicello has had a significant role in the development of much of the music we’ve come to love over the last thirty years. For New York proto-punks The Dictators, he welded bare bones rock and roll and pop hooks with sneering attitude, though never gained the godlike status of fellow metropunks The Ramones. As a founding member of muscle ‘n’ loincloth legends Manowar, he provided chest-beating, anthemic fretwork for the band’s revered first six albums. Though he hasn’t been dormant by any means since his departure from the latter band, last year’s New Metal Leader - released under his own moniker with Manowar cover band Men of War (now known as the RTB Band) filling out the rest of the lineup – is a return to the balls-out trad/power metal his most famous band was known for. The album charted in Germany, and the band are working on a followup when not touring in support of it. During a recent interview with MetalSucks, Ross the Boss – equipped with a thick New York accent and a very strong set of opinions – discussed his thoughts on his legacy, reunions (of which he’s been a part with Manowar and The Dictators), his favorite guitarists, and how the current state of the music industry is screwing over bands.

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