Heimdalls Wacht, a sountrack to new surroundings.

okay... so here's the thing. i found out about this band relatively recently and have been devouring everything they have ever recorded to the exclusion of many other 'playlist faves'. it turns out, however, that while their discography is available enough to anyone with even my amount of net savvy, information about these guys seems rather scarce. apparently, these are four guys, half of whom (guitars and vocals, the important ones) were in a band called the martyrium. turns out, the martyrium sound a lot like heimdalls, which shouldn't really be any surprise to anyone. anyhow, this is some straight up, pretty straight forward german pagan black metal. you know the deal... earth worshipping, jesus hating, no english speaking eight-minute-long epic type material, with plenty of crow and wind and rain sound effects. there's even some woodpeckers thrown in there somewhere for good measure.
admittedly, i suck at describing music and my typical grab bag of available adjectives is on a small, but pretty easily understandable scale. of the greatest, and most vague of categories, we have three main descriptors. badass/kickass, gay, and retarded. any and everything else we'll use here from here on out will merely be a modifier to the three aforementioned 'genres'.
submitted for you appreciation is what i'll consider heimdalls most solid work. it's an nifty little deal with the decidely zany title of 'ut de graute olle tied' which, according to babelfish, means some bullshit having to do with horror. this album is totally badass for the most part, with the exception of some moderately gay parts involving pirate vocals. now, while i am typically intolerant of gayness in my black metal, i have made the decision to let it slide with these guys, and i'll tell you why...
if you were to put a gun to my head and ask me to, really quickly, describe their sound, i'd be forced to compare it to something along the lines of 'sons of northern darkness' era immortal, meets most of everything manowar has ever fucked with. so basically, i am trying to say it's epic-as-fuck, standing in the bow of a viking ship on the rolling seas type shit, complete, in this case, with piratey nonsense. BUT only once in a while.
anyhow, if you know me at all, (and none of you do) you'd know that i have a retarded soft spot for both manowar and their macho goofballery, and immortal for being over-the-top, ding-dong parodies.

i'll let this be your litmus test for how dependable i can be at pointing you in the direction of good music. if you think it's totally gay, chances are you're retarded. if you think it rules, bigtime... you're welcome.

http://rapidshare.com/#!download|384tl2|110067998|Heimdalls_Wacht-Ut_de_graute_olle_Tied-Deel_I-DE-2008_the_cleanser_metalarea.org.rar|96481

why i heart the spirit of black metal.

people often ask me what is is about black metal that draws me to it like a moth to an icy, windswept flame. i hear all kinds of objections to my predilection . "that shit is SO gay, dude. really?" they say. "it sounds like it was recorded in a bathroom by a retarded janitor" they say. "i can't stand 40 minutes of blastbeats" they say...
and, honestly, i don't have a really good answer to give anyone. taste is, obviously, a subjective matter: an opinion that is pretty hard to define and compartmentalize. it's like somebody asking why you prefer apple juice to orange juice, or beer to champagne. you can't really know why, you just do. truth be told, i thought BM was a pile of dumb horseshit when i first heard it myself. this was from me, who was heavily into 90's death metal and 20 minute long doom 'opuses' at the time. "black metal? why would anybody even bother to write a riff if you can hear the goddamned thing? plus they look like dead, gay clowns." ultimately, i'll thank mayhem and varg vikernes for turning the corner for me. what follows may seem like a non sequitir, but i promise to steer everything back on track in due time...
i will admit with conviction that i love manowar more than a lot of things. and while i can't remember the year, i remember very VERY clearly the first time i heard 'hail to england'. there was something about the over the toppedness, the macho bullshittery, the sheer 'kicking-ass-for-the-sake-of-kicking-assedness' that those guys exuded that made me buy into them immediately. they weren't on about chicks or partying at all back then. what you had instead was an entire album about valkyries and satan and gratuitous piccolo bass solos and goddamned cat-skin gloves and poisoned lips... on an album called 'hail to england'... and they were from goddamned auburn, new york. if you were to ever watch an inter view with manowar (most notably joey demiao, you would very quickly deduce that these guys are either totally, 100% behind every word they say pertaining to their love for metal as a whole, or that they are all fucking lunatics. personally, it is my opinion that joey demiao is 90% metall-er than shit and 10% loony. anyhow... it's this sort of conviction that leaves me believing eric adams when he talks kooky shit about 'dying for metal'.

that about sums it up. kinda makes me want to go to germany.

BM for me, at least in the beginning, kind of embodied that same "no, i'm not fucking kidding you" attitute. moreso than punk, which ultimately boiled down to a manufactured look, cultivated by petulant teens in the early 70s, those few early pioneers of the 2nd wave of BM took some questionable philosophical stands to an extreme end. norwegian kids obviously had an 'issue' with the spread of christianity in norway back in the early 90's, but what makes the whole phenomenon noteworthy is that there was a musical theme to their specific blend of activism: a specific soundtrack to the movement. it's comparable to PETA creating a genre of music to accompany them acting like stupid dicks outside of department stores. and pay attention here... they fact that they like to listen to fiona apple is not the same as starting a band. instead, all the rage (albiet baseless in reality) and feelings of isolation (again) were channeled into a distinct movement, the likes of which had never been fully explored. these were pissed off, middle class children railing furiously against intangible things that really didn't have much impact on their day-to-days. i think, ultimately, they were pissed because they had no genuine grief. comfortable and happy, they decided to hate jesus... and the gap... and people who weren't quite as angry as they were. but goddamnit, they did it with enthusiasm. and made some damn fine records along the way.
see... i admire conviction, i really do. and a lot of times, i wish i wasn't so apathetic about most things. i wish i had the balls to lay down and die for something that i believed in, but i don't. after all, even a questionable cause is still a cause which merits the tiniest modicum of respect in standing for. you hear these tales of church burnings and suicides over the depressive nature of life that these wacky kids had and you've gotta kind of admire (is that the right word here?) their willingness to subject themselves to prison and death to carry out their intent, no matter how screwy. it's something i'd never have the gumption to fuck with. hell, i bet even old joe demaio would wash his hands of the whole mess.

Adventures in travel. A train blog...

the following is a dialogue that i had with my notebook whilst on a fernet fueled amtrak train trip from los feliz, ca. to raton, nm. my instincts tell me i had fun... unfortunately, the amazing degradation of my handwriting skills will be lost to translation into text, but use your imagination, please.

4:25 P.M.: fucking train. some old guy with a walker just queered my shot of fernet in the men's room. well.. he was unable to prevent it, but he made it pretty hasty.

4:37 los feliz to union station: not as secluded or romantic as i has (sic) hoped. what is? this seems like marta but way more solid. p.s. no one has asked me for any money yet.

5:56: union station looks like a crazy, goddamned gothic cathedral: beautiful and old. i met two guys traveling back from santa barbara to albuquerque. the lucky fuckers are done with their trip at 11 am tomorrow, which is 10 hours earlier than i'll be. still. the accomodations on this train are nice. i think i smell worse than anyone on this thing since i have been wearing a parka in los angeles all day. amtrak is pretty stringent about how much shit you can carry on, so i wore my bulkiest item of clothing. it's dark and i am underground, yearning for those mountains.

7:30 p.m.: more drunk than not. train travel seems to rule irrevocably. something about it is laid back and (illegible). some amazing, alcoholic airplane motel. not far out, but some shit has disappeared. i will be in new mexico and they say that the altitudes will kill me. it's higher there, i am told than denver, by about a thousand feet. i am not too terribly concerned with altitue (sic) as i am by coyotes, however. a good friend predicted that i will be gang raped by the fucker coyotes until i starve to death. raped by dogs until i starve.

10:41 lounge car: pulled through inky black, a sausage party blares through the desert night. HAHA! you are an alletevative (sic) faggot. honestly? i just want to end up drunk and asleep and in up in arizona. the good news? i will!!!

1:57: weird needles kid is gone. they won't ever, EVER let you smoke on this roving behemoth. goddamned ever. there is installment. vanessas opionion (sic) of me is ..."fucking brilliant, only he hides it under his foul mouthed, beer drinking manners". trains make people lie. "jason is clearly a crack baby :)" and so are other train passengers.

3:15 a.m: to much (rest of sentence is illegible. i believe it made reference to 'poison' and 'motherfuckers')

END OF SCENE

encinitas and the city of angels

i've spent a lot of time thinking about catalysts lately. what they are, how they work, the end result of the process they aid, and where they come from in general. speaking in an obtuse manner, 'life' in itself it a series of catalysts, what we call 'moments' that flare up and force the next one into existence. some are noteworthy, explosive things like the death of a parent or winning the lottery, but even the damnedest fool will tell you the the vast majority are unremarkable to the point that we forget about them by the next morning. 'get out of the road, you lunatic...'
right now i am laying across some very hard, hardwood floor in an apartment in los feliz, california. i have been traveling around this country, off and on, for the better part of a year, am unemployed, and am about one night of being a drunk asshole away from being homeless. i spend half of my time excited about the option of doing what ever i please, whenever i want to and under my conditions. i could hop a train to texas right this instant if i want to. i could sit tight until i wear out my welcome. i could wander out into the desert like a malfunctioning penguin on the ice floes and freeze to death. the other part of these days have been wondering what the fuck i must be thinking.
i don't know what i am talking about. i'm not a writer. i mean, i can articulate, i can string words together, but when i try to write, it just feels like i am 'trying' to write. i end up sounding like an unskilled dipshit. also, in trying to write this, i find that writing makes me feel like a dick. like i am hogging the entire conversation and you can't get a word in edgewise. i hate people like that. but, it's been suggested i document this, that somebody might care about what i have to say. maybe so i can look back on all of it. who knows? first of all, even though i kind of burned my life to the ground, and carry everything i own in 2 bags and took off for the wild west, my travels have been boring. i have worked a steady and completely unfulfilling job for a while until i decided to stop doing that. i caught a comfortable ride with good company up from encinitas and ended up welcomed into an apartment in east hollywood. i have no badass train hopping hobo stories, i haven't fallen in love or gone to jail or 'found myself'. most of my time has been spent hanging out with amazingly cool people drinking beers and talking about enjoyable drunk men topics. i feel grateful beyond words for how wonderful it's all been.

Walknut -Motherland Ostenvegr

man... what can i say about this band except that they are beyond great. yes, they have heard burzum, but who cares? i can live with that.
beyond knowing they are two guys, named stringsskald and ravnaskrik who are from moscow and were also together in a band called temnozor, it's really fucking hard to find out any info on these dudes, though. apparently there has been a rumor of a new album circulating for a while, with even more susbets of rumors that explain it's lack of a release. i have read everything to varying side projects and families keeping them too busy to record, to alleged nsbm sentiments that make labels apprehensive about releasing it. who knows what's with all the damned mystery? let's just call it a 'perk' of liking a genre of music that absolutely NObody gives a shit about that is written by people who think it is fun to remain obscurer than fuck. this is a must listen!


http://rapidshare.com/files/40278296/Walknut_-_2007_-_Graveforests_and_Their_Shadows__for__Varg_Umor_music__and__metalarea.org__by_HA7tur

Absurd - Pesttanz

okay. let's call this a change of format. totally. it has been to my attention for a good while now that i am most probably irritating 95 percent of my facebook list by posting bullshit black/thrash/death metal shit for the better part of two years now and i have decided to give up on it. and since i was brilliant enough to figure out that posting here is every bit as easy, consider it a done deal. this is the new face of fast action. a metal blog. with videos. and maybe even .rar links once i figure it out. anyhow. above you is an absurd song. i didn't find it too particularly thrilling or anything, it's just a test. p.s. apparently they are nazis and well known for it. who knew? anyhow unhold of luror fame played drums for them and learning that kinda bums me out. i'd like to chalk it up to him being a dumbass drummer, but i know better after hearing 'cease to live' anyhow... there'll be more to come. once i figure out what i want to write about. this is a much more relaxed format, allowing people to stumble across it as opposed to forcing it upon my seething throngs of mild acquaintances on the 'book. bone apetit!

vicksburg, ms to waco, tx.

so day two got off to a slower start than was planned, but it was worth the delay since we were both tired as shit from day one. the mighty miss didn't smell like anise and turds, which was a nice touch. after skipping the 'free continental breakfast', which consisted of hard boiled eggs and 'gourmet' flavored coffee, we headed west again.


i quickly learned that the trip across northern louisiana is down a cripplingly boring, flat, shitty mess of a road that eventually lead to shreveport, on the texas border. according to wikipedia....
'Shreveport is the third-largest city and the principal city of the third largest metropolitan area in the U.S. state of Louisiana, as well as being the 99th-largest city in the United States.
It is the seat of Caddo Parish[1] and extends slightly into neighboring Bossier Parish. Bossier City is separated from Shreveport by the Red River. The population was 200,145 at the 2000 census, and the Shreveport-Bossier City Metropolitan Area population exceeds 375,000.'
i, however, in a million years, use that description to open an article about the place. according to me....
'shreveport is the foremost shittiest and third largest metropolitan area in louisiana. if you were to somehow eliminate all of the good or even decent aspects of new orleans, while retaining all of the filth, crime, and retarded polulous, you'd be in the ballpark.'
not ironically, the place also smelled like babyshit.


















after eating at whataburger for the first time in a dozen years, we were mercifully whisked across the border and into what was my life's first experience with texas.


anyhow... it's pretty easy to figure out when one state has more money that it's neighbor, and you can tell in a heartbeat that texas scoops up oil and louisiana was all blown to hell by a hurricane. instantly, I-20 grew smoother and cleaner and a concrete safety divider sprouted from the median. aside from that, however, the terrain is relatively unchanged, though i think i started seeing mesquite trees here and there. i never saw dallas, since we shot south on I-35, headed towards austin, but it loomed on the horizon and looked metropolitan enough, i suppose. being able to 'loom on the horizon' means it's a legit city, right? plus, they have a football team.
anyhow, shortly after that it got foggy as hell and the daylight ran out on us, so i have no idea if the landscape has changed. something leads me to believe it hasn't.