THIRTEEN YEARS LATER, MR. TIM SKOLD REVIVES SKOLD
Wednesday, November 4th, 2009 at 3:00pm by Gary Suarez
Back in 1996, I was an angst-ridden young buck, and the only kind of music I truly cared about was industrial rock. Indeed, it was at the tail of a gilded age for the subgenre, the door to commercial success having been opened a few years earlier by major-label breakthrough artists like Nine Inch Nails and Ministry as well as notable independent label acts like long-slogging innovators KMFDM. If you have ever owned music from bands like God Lives Underwater or Gravity Kills, you know exactly what I’m talking about, brother.
That same year also saw the major release of a self-titled debut from SKOLD, a dark electronic project from a former member of glammy metal act Shotgun Messiah, a group that had toyed with industrial rock on their final album Violent New Breed. Though there wasn’t a bad song in the bunch, the highlights included machinist’s slog “Dust To Dust” and soaring dystopian anthem “Neverland.” Though mastermind Mr. Tim Skold would move on to lengthy stints with Marilyn Manson (refer to: The Golden Age Of Grotesque, arguably the band’s finest record) and the aforementioned KMFDM, this now woefully out-of-print album–and occasionally accompanying promo VHS cassette–has always held a special plate in my withered heart. This is is why I am so pleased to report that after thirteen (13!) long years, Mr. Skold has revived this long dormant solo act.









And the hits just keep coming: Marilyn Manson has now leant his vocals to a remix of a Lady GaGa song called “Love Game,” which is currently being hosted by
To review: last year 

I saw Cold open for Marilyn Manson once. Even though it was a good month after Halloween (I recall only because it was Thanksgiving weekend), guitarist Terry Balsucko wore a Michael Meyers mask the whole set and stood almost perfectly still, hunched over his guitar as though he should be in the belfry at Notre Dame; vocalist Scooter Ward stood at the lip of the stage, smoking a cigarette and remaining otherwise completely stationary; and drummer Sam McCandless’ hair was dyed to look like a cheetah’s fur.
Fuck Wes Borland, and fuck everyone who supported this lying sack of shit.









