Cynic’s Paul Masvidal has been on something of a hiatus from the world. Aside from a brief announcement about some Cynic lineup changes this past December, we’ve heard precious little about a supposed new Cynic album despite the fact that we presume it’s being worked on. The “summer 2011″ release hinted at in the last update is all but impossible at this point, but thanks to a Facebook update from Masvidal we’ve finally got some solid news to go on:

Ok friends, You got my attention…here’s an official update. I’ve been working away in the home studio writing lots of new songs and keeping off the grid to stay creatively focused. Apologies for having been a bit reclusive in our digital age of informational abundance! It’s safe to say that Cynic already has plenty of material for a new record, but something keeps the inspiration going to write more. I feel like I’m on for the ride and just seeing what manifests as a result of sitting on the train and looking out the window.

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So yesterday, Cynic posted a message on their Facebook page in which they announced the departure of bassist Robin Zielhorst and guitarist Tymon Kruidenier from the band. The reasons are not typical, which is to say, there were no so-called “creative differences” or “disagreements about the direction of the band,” no one is suing anyone or fucked someone’s girlfriend or anything like that. The reason is simple and logistical: Zielhort and Kruidenier live in The Netherlands, while Paul Masvidal and Sean Reinert live in California. So there’s no drama here whatsoever.

And not only is there no drama here, but this isn’t even really bad news. Here’s why:

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Here we had this entire week devoted to hair metal, and I feel like we only scratched the surface. Let’s do this again real soon, okay?

Here’s some of the fun we had this week, be it hair-metal related or not:

• Cynic’s Paul Masvidal taught us to be mind-less, Antagonist’s Carlos Garcia taught us about the song “Sasha Grey,” and Trap Them’s Ryan McKenney taught us more about corporate-sponsored live shows.
• Anso and Allyson from Bring Back Glam! counted down the Ten Best Must-Have Glam Metal Albums.
• We counted down the Top Ten Bands Most Often Miscategorized as Hair Metal.
• Vince spoke with Serj Tankian, Gary spoke with Frankie from Emmure, and Sergeant D. spoke with Samantha Maloney from Brother Clyde/Shift/Hole/Motley Crue/every band ever.
• We debuted a new track by The Binary Code!
• Leyla Ford counted down the ten worst and best hair metal band names.
• Sammy checked out the new release by Eibon.
• Dave Mustein checked out The Cool Tour.
• Someday, this little girl is going to make Sergeant D. very, very unhappy.
• I can’t tell the difference between all the members of Mushroomhead, can you?

I wanna especially thank Allyson from Bring Back Glam! for all her help this week — we love you, Allyson! Come back anytime.

Monday we return, but we’ll have a little less Aqua Net in our hair, a little less eyeliner on our lids, and a lot less skip in our step. See ya then.

-AR

Mind-Less

“When you really understand that you are what you see and know, you don’t run around the countryside thinking, ‘I am all this!’ There is simply all this.” —Alan Watts

The end is near; the end of a cycle. We just rehearsed today for the first time since our last European tour that ended in mid-June. It was like putting on an old pair of jeans. We slipped right in and felt comfortable; relaxed enough to loosen up completely and just have fun. It was the kind of rehearsal I enjoy the most, if I had to rate them.

Today was hot and muggy in Los Angeles. Our rehearsal room was even hotter and muggier than outside — and it worked. The clam factor forced us to give in to the discomfort… and rollick. We said, “Fuck it,” and the music flowed out of our biology like tadpoles consuming life. A raw, uninhibited quality took shape and found a way to be heard. It was pure instinct alongside a carefree sense of humor. We detached and let the music do the work.

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*Compassionate Discrimination

*Compassionate Discrimination: Having astute judgment without being scornfully judgmental; seeing difficult truths about a situation or person without closing your heart or feeling superior. In the words of Alan Jones: having the ability “to smell a rat without allowing your ability to discern deception sour your vision of the glory and joy that is everyone’s birthright.” —from “The Outlaw Catalog of Cagey Optimism” in Rob Brezsny’s book, Pronoia Is the Antidote for Paranoia.

When I was younger, I would easily become attached to people when I first met them, especially if I felt we had a connection—and I would often cry when I had to say good-bye to someone I felt connected to. I still occasionally cry when I’m saying bye to a friend I may not be seeing again for an indefinite period of time. The good-byes are encapsulated mini-deaths that force me to let go. Perhaps the attachment stems from a childhood of constant renewal, instability, and change. It’s the kid in me wanting to hold on for just one more minute because back then, I never could. Eventually, I learned that friendships change and evolve in their own unique way.

I’ve been thinking about what it means to have friends, what it means to be one—and how we often think that we’ll know our friends for a lifetime, or that they’ll always be around. The truth is, like everything in life, our closest friendships are always changing and growing, and may eventually end. Some friendships will grow apart and other people I never felt close to may someday grow near.

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Dio died. Isis broke-up. Bret Michaels is back in the hospital. And I just used Dio, Isis, and Bret Michaels in one thought-stream, which, I’m sure, offended somebody.

Luckily, we did manage to have some fun this week:

• Sick of it All’s Lou Koller is counting down his top ten hardcore albums, As I Lay Dying’s Nick Hipa is counting down to the end of L O S T, Batillus’ Fade Kainer is counting down ’til the band can get the fuck outta the studio, Agenda of Swine’s Pete Benumb is counting down to MDF, and Cynic’s Paul Masvidal is counting down to achieving a higher level of being.
• We spoke to Steve Joh from Century Media, Tara Johnson from Disembodied, Emil Werstler from Daath and Levi/Werstler, and Travis Stever from Coheed & Cambria.
• We checked out the latest release from Rosetta.
• Sergeant D. has new slamz 4 u.
• The best music video ever of the week is by… Goldfrapp?
• There are plenty of things we’d rather do than listen to a new Attack Attack! song.
• Endorsement of the new Avenged Sevenfold single = flame war.
• You guys are still arguing about my Korn review. Seriously?
• I’m still upset about John Bush leaving Anthrax again. Seriously.
• We used to love Sweden, but we had to kill it.

And hopefully no one awesome will die or break-up next week.

-AR

Slender Threads

Last week I was having coffee with a couple of friends in a cafe restaurant. One of my buds was sitting across from me on a large table and we were having a hard time hearing each other speak over the noise, so I began to make funny expressions and movements with my hands, embodying a style of humor that an old mate used to perform for a bunch of us when I used to work as a bartender. Back then, Jeff would pretend that he had long hair and would mime shaping it into the form of a Mohawk, or massive spikes protruding from his head. His facial expressions were serious and committed, as though it was a real job to style his invisible hair. He would look into a mirror and prepare his massive punk locks with gels and glue to form these extreme shapes poking out of his cranium. His outstretched arm would perfect the point on each spear, his facial expressions exhibiting great purpose while taking on this important task.

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Yep, we talked a lot of smack on Joey Belladonna this week, much to the chagrin of, well, an awful lot of you. I think we’re done for a little while… but I can’t make any promises. Our job at MetalSucks is to amuse ourselves first and foremost, and, well, we thought it was pretty damned funny. So ppppfffftttt.

Here’s what else went down this week:

• We debuted the title track from Nachtmystium’s new album, Addicts.
• Genetic’s Dallas Coyle called us “influential,” Disfear’s Tomas Lindberg shared some Maryland Deathfest memories, The Austerity Program’s Justin Foley unveiled his top four Taco Riffs, Cynic’s Paul Masvidal got burglarized, As I Lay Dying’s Nick Hipa made some new revelations about L O S T, God Forbid’s Doc Coyle worried about turning into an old geezer, Daath’s Eyal Levi gave us a lesson in stage etiquette, and Batillus’ Geoff Summers gave us a new studio update.
• We spoke to The Melvins’ Buzz Osborne, Periphery’s Misha “Bulb” Mansoor, Testament’s Chuck Billy, and Sick of it All’s Lou Koller.
• We checked out new releases by Korn and Ufomammut and Year of No Light.
• Is Mastodon’s Brent Hinds a Mastodick?
• Sergeant D sez Cunthunt777 are your new favorite band.
• Don’t worry, baby, Dr. Danzig gonna cure what ails you.
• Hot chick loves Nergal, hates the Bible.
• Boy oh boy, do we love the new Limp Bizkit cover art!
• If you’re looking for new band members, don’t do this.

Alright. We’re gonna go get drunk and crank We’ve Come For You All in John Bush’s honor. Have a great weekend, everyone.

-AR

“Violence is unconscious rage fueled by deep sorrow.”

—L.C.

Someone broke into my home last week and left it looking like an FBI raid with nothing left unturned, including my cat’s ash box that was left open, along with every other small box, case, and container in the house. They even scoured the attic, most likely looking for cash and maybe some jewelry. As soon as I stepped through the front door, I had an intuition that there was some kind of phantom thought-form energy that had found its way into the house. Immediately, I grabbed the sage and began smudging all the rooms. (Smudging is a ritualized way of clearing energy, which can be electromagnetic, emotional, ionic and so on.) When I dialed 911, the operator told me there was another case that took precedence—a homicide on the west side of town, close to where I live—and that my burglary was “put into the queue.” After hearing those words, my problem became miniscule. What are material objects compared to the loss of a loved one? Someone else had just lost a friend or family member. It was in this instant that I was reminded of how much violence pervades us as a species.

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A few hours ago authorities evacuated Times Square for the second time in a week after someone found a “suspicious cooler” on the street. Of course, everyone was just being overly cautious, but as long as it doesn’t infringe on my civil rights, there’s nothing necessarily wrong with that. I think Vince was in Michigan when 9/11 went down, but I was here, and if I never see another tank rolling down my street again or run all over the city because there’s no cell service and I need to make sure that all of my friends and family are still alive, well, I’ll be good.

While I nurse my PTSD, here are some happier, metalier things that happened this week:

• We’re streaming Keep of Kalessin’s new album, Reptilian. We also debuted new music by Lamb of God and The Funeral Pyre.
• We also also also debuted new videos by Soulfly and Cancer Bats.
• We also also also also debuted our new cooking show, Cooking Contaminated.
• Cynic’s Paul Masvidal discussed the shape of silence, Periphery’s Bulb taught you how to get that “big” studio tone, As I Lay Dying’s Nick Hipa had some questions about L O S T, Matt from Rumpelstiltskin Grinder fondly recalled Maryland Deathfest, and Batillus bassist Willi Stabenau gave us a studio update.
• We talked to Darkest Hour’s Mike Schleibaum, Reign Supreme’s Jay Pepito,  Jackyl’s Jesse James Dupree, and unveiled part one of our massive two-part interview with Buzz Osborne.
• We checked out the latest release by The Howling Wind.
• Does the fact that Mike Portnoy is touring with Avenged Sevenfold make you wanna see ‘em?
• We don’t want Joey Belladonna to return to Anthrax. Seriously.
• Sergeant D. wants to know if u mosh 4 Christ???
• Damnocracy’s Evan Seinfeld and his porno Howdy Doody also do bar mitzvahs.
• We wish there was really such a thing as a Slayer burrito.

Next week brings even more betterer br00tal goodness – interviews, debuts, guest blogs, all that shit. It’s gonna get real up in this bitch. See ya then.

-AR

…the paramecium senses no more of the flute’s sweet warble than we do of the radio waves that pass through our bodies. It spends its life in silence, or more correctly, in soundlessness, for silence is the delicious muffle of an auditory system in repose, and an animal lacking an auditory system can no more know silence than one born blind can know darkness.

—from Music, the Brain, and Ecstasy by Robert Jourdain

I’m back at it with a particular tune, noticing how the space of silence is critical to the ebb and flow of a song’s evolution and ultimately, the shape of its birth.

Silence is not just about absence, subtraction, or less than. In any arrangement, silence can be performed in the service of contraction or expansion, very much like inhales and exhales. Silence also has a resonant quality because only in the vibrational space of silence can we better feel the parts composed of sound.

I was thinking about this spatial-songwriting concept on the way to rehearsal today and realized that, at present, I’m inside this particular tune as its shape evolves subtly and I’m hurling myself into a modus operandi that I have little control over. My only job here is to maintain a slow, nurturing cultivation….way more detached than smothering. A disciplined patience that sits, waiting for nothing to happen. Calmly active and nowhere to go. Just radiating simple “IS-ness” through the creative process.

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EVERYBODY SING WITH ME NOW: “I FEEL PRETTY, OH SO PRETTY, I FEEL PRETTY, AND WITTY, AND BRIIIIIIIGHT!”

No West Side Story fans in the house? No one? Okay, fuck it. Here’s what happened in the world of FUCKING METAL this week:

• We’re streaming Mantric’s The Descent in its entirety.
• We’re giving away new tracks by Nevermore and Heaven Shall Burn.
• We debuted a new video by Karma to Burn.
• Cynic’s Paul Masvidal meditated on unexplained healings, As I Lay Dying’s Nick Hipa gave us a refresher on L O S T, The Austerity Program’s Justin Foley thinks it’s okay to enjoy music by scumbags, Intronaut’s Sacha Dunable wants your help naming his new band, and Eyal from Daath and Levi/Werstler wants you to start ordering CDs online.
• We spoke to Mike Patton and Brian Posehn.
• Slayer and Megadeth are both doing full album performances on their American Carnage tour; Testament, not so much.
• Rose Funoral just can’t live down their past.

Next week brings so many interviews and exclusives it’ll make your head explode. See ya then!

-AR

Don’t think I haven’t noticed how that rotten Paul Masvidal (armed with his lousy awesome columns about happiness) has raised the intellectual level of MetalSucks to at least high school. And I must protest. Yes, Masvidal is wonderful, but c’mon dude! We’re trying to bicker about Mustaine and boobs here, man.

It’s like his guileless insights, so eloquently stated, render sub-retards like me too self-conscious to, say, publish 6,800 words about the hand-hug from Ronnie James Dio a fortnight ago that has changed my life. And suddenly, after I complete a second extended harangue about Stephen Pearcy, my finger hovers over the button that reads SUBMIT FOR REVIEW ‘cuz I’m thinking, “Will Paul think this is bullshit? Wait a minute. This is bullshit!’ It’s like I have another editor. A silent, invisible editor by remote suggestion!

MASVIDAL!!!!!!!

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Moms, Magic, and a Little Legwork

I started writing lyrics for a new song this week. For me, each song has its own story or feeling that it’s trying to share, and my job is to discover the song’s truth, or, get as close to articulating what it’s trying to say. The vibe of this new tune is reflective and assertive at the same time, kind of like being gently nudged into a river, knowing that we won’t drown, but that we’ll have to learn how to swim ourselves. After finishing a first draft of the lyrics, I realized the story of this song would also lend itself well to the next column, so here we are:

Between the ages of seven and ten, we lived in a house that had a big trampoline in the backyard. My friend Anna was over one day and we did our usual jumping routine. One of our favorite games was double-jumping each other to see who could go higher. It’s a trick where one jumps a split second before the other and it causes the second jumper to multiply the strength of their bounce by fifty percent or more. During one of these double jumps, I found myself soaring higher than I’d ever been, but on my way down, something didn’t look right. As gravity had its way, and with the trampoline no longer beneath me, I watched my legs hurtle toward the metal rails that framed the trampoline’s edge. My left leg slid perfectly into the narrow space between the two rails, but too narrow for my knee. I heard a loud “Crunch!”

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Yesterday Anso wrote a piece about how Cynic are good to combat “mega-highness,” and reader Kasper Maigaard left the following comment below the column:

Will you guys please shut up about Cynic now? You’ve given one of their members his own SEGMENT for fucks sake, so will you at least try (TRY) to go a whole day without ONE mention mention of them? Or you could just marry them straight away and skip all the meddling around.

Well, Kasper, we totally WOULD marry Cynic if they’d have us, but it’s still pretty early in the relationship and we’re afraid that if we tell them we love them now, we’ll come across as needy and scare them away. So while the courtship continues to play itself out, I’d advise you to just not read any posts about Cynic (or any other band we write about that you don’t like).

For the rest of you, I would now like to talk about Cynic’s upcoming EP, Re-Traced, a little bit.

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I think we’ve all had a night or two out partying when that step was taken over the line between “appropriately intoxicated” and “scary fucked-up.” You’re not barfing, passed-out, or otherwise blissfully unaware — that’d be preferable to the creeping terror that descends on you when some switch is thrown in your brain and suddenly, blam-o, fun is a distant memory and life is totally incomprehensible and overwhelming.

The room you’re in is moving but it’s not, and you’ve been listening to your friend describe Reagan’s atrocities in Central America but actually the speaker is some bearded pervert who took your friend’s seat ages ago. You scramble to your feet, blurting, “I have no friends with beards!” but freeze when you see that this room has no door! You coolly plead for help from Jimi Hendrix, who’s kneeling inanimate at waist height, but then he swings out of sight and is replaced by your long-lost friend, who is demanding to know why you were arguing with the door. You try to explain that the Jimi Hendrix door poster is being a wise-ass, but it comes out in all vowels and, Jesus tap-dancing Christ, the place is turning into a real carnival of horrors now. In the kitchen, somebody’s fucking a horse to “New Sensation” by INXS and all you want to do is get out the door, lay down somewhere quiet, and pinpoint which of all the things you’ve blindly smoked has turned you into Ozzy for the night.

And that’s how you end up asleep between two dumpsters.

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Remember, friends, as you pass by
as you are now, so once was I.
As I am now, so you must be.
Prepare yourself to follow me.

—From a headstone at Forest Lawn Cemetery in Glendale, California

In the early nineties, Sean and I made a record called Human with the Florida band Death. In the month prior to our recording date, Chuck Schuldiner and Steve DiGiorgio made their way down to Cynic’s rehearsal studio in Miami to tighten up the songs with us. One night, I was driving the four of us back from the Coconut Grove area, where we had stopped for dinner after rehearsal. Just as we reached the fork in the road where Ingraham Highway splits with Matheson Avenue, I saw something strange. I noticed some tiny lights blinking off in the distance through green foliage and trees. I slowed down, saying, “Those lights look weird. Do you mind if we turn around and check it out?”

I pulled a U-turn and we made our way back to the edge of the lot. We parked and walked up to find two bodies, along with motorcycle parts strewn across the grass and shrubs. We saw one helmet on the ground and were able to piece together that they must have swerved off the road and bounced off the giant oak tree that grew in the center of the enclosure. I approached the first body and saw that it was a girl with long red hair. She was lying there, twitching and unconscious, her body twisted in an awkward and unnatural way. The man, who appeared to be severely injured, started moving slightly and was trying to say something.

Steve approached him and asked, “Are you OK?”

In a hushed and pained voice, we heard the man say, “Give me my gun.”

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I’ve always hated top-whatever lists. Best guitarist, best band, best blowjob, best double anal with a horse, whatever. I think that those lists are pretty much all slanted by politics, or bought and paid for. I first got that idea in my head when Titanic won as many Oscars as it did. There were so many movies that year that were far more deserving of the title that my faith in the award system died.

Jump forward about ten years. I just got back in town from the Revolver Golden God Awards. I’ll just say that I’m stoked they exist. Metal needs that in the U.S. I have no issue with their nominees and obviously you can’t pick everyone so this is definitely not directed at them. Again, THIS IS NOT DIRECTED AT REVOLVER MAGAZINE, but the concept of picking “best shredder” or “shredder of the year “is just one of those things you can’t accurately do with the amount of talent that’s out there. You want to nominate Zack Wylde or Dave Mustaine? Okay. That’s cool. Those guys have earned it. But when you leave the circle of greats and legends, how exactly do you pick a BEST shredder? I mean am I alone in thinking that when so many amazing guitarists are overlooked that the award itself loses its meaning? What guitarists am I talking about? Okay… I’ll name a few. In my opinion these guys should be winning all the awards. If I left someone out, it’s because either I haven’t heard of them, I’ve heard them and I don’t think they’re among the very best, I forgot to mention them, or I’ve heard them and I know for a fact that what you think is shredding is just studio trickery.

So here it is. My personal list of whom I think should be winning all the metal guitar awards. Am I biased? Maybe. But I’d like to also think that considering what I do for a living that I’m a good judge of competency in the field. This is in no particular order. These guys all rule for different reasons. (DISCLAIMER: Sorry that there aren’t videos for every dude I mention, but sometimes finding quality footage is tough.)

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I just wanna throw my two cents in…

True story: when I was a kid, I thought the lyrics to “Black No. 1″ were “You can’t go out ’cause your boobs are showing.” I was confused about what the song’s title meant, but otherwise, the words made perfect sense to me. Oh, misheard lyrics. You never cease to amuse.

Even if you weren’t a Type O Negative fan or a Carnivore fan, you have to admit that Peter Steele had one of the most distinctive voices in the history of metal. You never heard the guy and thought, “Gee, who is that?” And because my mother used to work with Josh Silver’s (now sadly also departed) dad, Type O Negative always felt, somehow, more tangible to me; Steele was iconic and often seemed larger than life, but I knew he wasn’t superhuman.That he passed away so young was a very unfortunate reminder that he wasn’t The Man of Steele. But he made his mark and left something to appreciated behind, and in the end, that’s all any of us can really ask for.

Here are some happier things that happened in the world of metal this week:

• We unveiled the line-up for Summer Slaughter 2010.
• We debuted a new video by Jungle Rot.
• We spoke to Kerry King and Dave Lombardo from Slayer, Chino Moreno from Deftones, and Stephen Pearcy from Ratt.
• Cynic’s Paul Masvidal contemplated depression, As I Lay Dying’s Nick Hipa contemplated L O S T, and The Austerity Program’s Justin Foley contemplated the perfect Taco Riff.
• We checked out new releases by Levi/Werstler, Wormrot, and Bison B.C. and Sweet Apple.
• Ever dreamed of singing with Nevermore? We’re running pretty much the coolest contest in the history of ever.

Next week brings at least one and possibly two big surprises, plus, knock on a wood, the debut of a new column by a writer you will hate. See ya then.

-AR

Journal entry, twelve years ago:

“Today I am sad. It hurts to be human. The walls are closing in on my peace and I go deeper into a sadness all too familiar. The tears from my formative years when I would cry incessantly because of psychic pain have arisen again. A resurgence of that old pain is in my body like a parasite I can’t control. I’m a suffering child. The human experience can be very trying and today I am tested. Today I am broken. All hope is lost. I am exhausted. Where does my fervor for life come from?”

…after that journal entry, I wrote this poem:

Cactus
Black bones in me
Corroding everything
They’re floating free in my eyes
You say I’m losing my sight
Don’t rescue me
I don’t plan on getting out
I’ve lost the key
Hug me I’m a cactus

I was on the edge that day.

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