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May 26, 2008 | by  | in Features |
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Rockin’ out to people who talk all through lectures

HEY! ALL YOU TALKERS! YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE! YOU PEOPLE WHO TALK ALL THROUGH LECTURES! JUST STOP IT! IT’S RUDE AND TOTALLY INCONSIDERATE! ALWAYS TALKING AND BLAH BLAH BLAHING ABOUT WHO JUST TEXTED YOU AND HOW INEBRIATED YOU GOT IN THE WEEKEND AND WE KEEP HEARING YOU TALK ABOUT YOUR PHONE AND HOW COOL YOU ARE AND WHO YOU SLEPT WITH AND IT’S UNFAIR ON THE REST OF US!!!!!! STOP IT RIGHT NOOOOOOOOW!!!!!!!!!!!!! JUUUUSSSSST SSSSSHHHHUUUUUUT UUUUUUUUP!!!!!!!!!!!!

Seriously man, I’m trying to get some sleep here.

Not all of us are wide awake on Monday morning. Some of us didn’t go to bed at 8 o’clock on Saturday night. Some of us stayed up till at least 8:30. Some of us were rockin’ out the whole country and quite frankly, we can’t be bothered. And that person up the front who talks all the way through the lecture – man that person is really annoying. Always pointing to the pictures and that, man, you gotta shut up.

HEY, SOME OF US WANT SOME PEACE AND QUIET!!!!!

I was particulary rockin this past weekend – I play in a death metal band called Slave Cadaver. We are really good and loud, and by that I mean that we are “GOOD” at playing “LOUD”. We played up in Palmerston North, suicide capital of New Zealand, a rather fitting place for death metal. I was rather aprehensive about going there, because I don’t want to kill myself until I’m famous enough to get my face on some Tshirts, and make some money from my suicide. We were only there for a night, but hey, you never know.

I play the bass for the band, so not to brag or anything, but this does make me the coolest member, despite what the other members of the band will tell you. Lately I’ve been having technical difficulties with my bass in the form of the B string not being as loud as the other strings. As you can imagine this is a big problem, as the B is my demon-summoning brutalizingpentagramic- gorifying-ritual-spiritinvoking string of extreme brutal brutey brutality. It was this string being played that summoned our vampiric guitarist, Dave Cadaver, from the underworld, ending his million-year slumber in the crypts of eternity, bringing him to the mortal plane where he will bludge your whiskey and probably come onto your girlfriend, even if she’s only got a “great personality”. When Sauron jams his bass riffs on the top of Mt Doom, it’s all about the B string, dude.

I had to put the seats down in my Daihatusu so we could fit Dave’s coffin in the back, and when he got up that midnight he gothically thirsted for suffering and misery. And a beer.

Palmerston North is a scary, disconcerting place. At night the streets look way too alike, the houses all have nice picket fences like American dramas, and the people are not quite drunk enough to munt properly. They can still walk, unlike our Wellington munters, who really go the distance – I mean by 2 a.m. they’re usually frantically horny, by 4 they’re talking about the meaning of life and by 5, barely walking, and going “I love you man.”

By Saturday night, I was deep in the heart of Palmerston North, I hadn’t killed myself, but I wanted to. The only thing for it was to get jammin’.

Now let me say a few things about metal here: metalheads are often accused of thinking everything other than metal totally sucks balls, which it actually, for the most part, does. But anyway, it’s not that the band you like is crap, it’s just that they are crap compared to metal. Metal never really goes away. If genres were people, metal would leave the party for a while, and everyone would say that metal is dead, not on the scene any more, but metal would just be out selling drugs and hiding some corpses, then come back and throw the rocking-est party ever.

Some people say they need to be able to hear the words in music – now what planet are these people from? There are no words that make sense in any mainstream music are there? Like what is Axl Rose saying “Welcome to the Jungle” for? I’m not in the jungle. I don’t live anywhere near a jungle. I live near a forest, so if he was saying “Welcome to the Forest” I could understand it, because there’s a forest just up the road from where I live. I don’t go up there much though. What’s with a jungle? There’s no jungles in Wellington. Come on Axl, what are you talking about? There’s lots of concrete here, maybe he should sing “Welcome to the Concrete Wasteland” – I think that would help him be a bit more in touch with his fans. I mean, I’m not saying that I’m better than Guns ‘n’ Roses, but hey, I am actually better than them.

Now let’s have a look at some brutal death metal singing: Kimble Gutspummelpuke Throttlevomitulcerpustule from New Plymouth bogans Anno Domini Mortus has a voice like this: “ OOOOO Grrrrrrrrr Uuuuuuugggghhhhh Reeeeoooooaaaaaarrrgggghhhh”

but the singer from Aro Valley metallers Athea, Quinn the Depraved, Purveyor of Star Mart Coffee from Cuba Mall, has a voice like this: “Reeeeooooow Eoooooowwwwww Groggggllllll eeooww eeow meow meow meow woof quack bark moooooooo”

So you see, there is huge variety in death metal.

Our gig was a treat. We played brutally well, our singer, Eli the Horrible nailing the vox and making the roofs tremble on neighbouring buildings and the nearby road markings peel off. We looked for a virgin to sacrifice during Jared’s drum solo but couldn’t find any.

And yes, this is the same Jared who tried to give me the nickname “Guy Norr Hoea” – is that gross or what? I couldn’t believe it – I confided in this dude, even going so far as to tell him that an anagram of my name is Gray Snotrag. Anyway, musos are wierd.

During Jared’s drum solo Eli got the cannon ready. We no longer blast midgets out into the audience, it’s deemed horribly politically incorrect, so now we blast out midget entrails instead. Nobody is offended anymore.

My bass solo was kinda cool, but I held back a little – Gene Simmons from KISS recently played in Wellington, did a wicked-as one-note bass solo, and I didn’t want to upstage Gene by using two notes in my solo, so I stuck with the one note, even though I know where the second note on a bass is, sometimes going so far as to play it. Not many people believe me on this, but whatever. I know where the third note is too, and no, I’m not going to show you. You can practice like everyone else. When I’m drunk I’ll sometimes use three or even four notes in a solo. Now I’d NEVER say that I’m better than Gene Simmons, but yeah, I am actually better than him.

We watched The Hendersons, Athea, and Wrath play, and all were so loud I am quite amazed that I can even hear you talkers blah blah blahing your way through my lecture, whatever subject I’m studying, I forget these geeky details some people are all hung up on.

Anyway, uni was looming on Monday, so all four of us prematurely evacuated, leaving the population of Palmerston North craving more and unsatisfied. Normally we never evacuate until we have been in a town for ages and ages, okay? Just in case you were wondering. And we normally NEVER prematurely evacuate. But we were deep in the heart of Palmerston North and killing ourselves was looking kind of appealling. Let it be known that normally we stay and brutalize a town by being brutal. That is, we sit in a corner somewhere and rock back and forth. Sometimes we go to parties and spend all the time texting on our cellphones so we look cooler than everyone else. As a side note, if you do this you instantly become extremely cool and important-looking, especially if you just nod your head going “yeah … yeah” with no sincere interest at all while someone talks to you. This technique is incredibly important for anyone in the music scene to learn how to do, This is why Hulk Hogan is having such a hard time getting his daughter signed – she actually listens when people talk, she’s not sending texts to anyone! That’s not cool!

Anyway, it was a shame that we had to leave early. I had to get Dave back to his sarcophagus before sunrise, so we jumped in the Daihatsu and blasted that song ‘Informer’ by Canadian one-hit-wonder white-boy rapper Snow. After a few verses, we realized that we couldn’t understand the lyrics, and there was no point listening to this garbage. I mean what’s the point of listening to music if you can’t understand the lyrics? So we put on Cannibal Corpse. Anyway, I’m back here without killing myself, and hopefully this week I can find the elusive fifth note on my bass.

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