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Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Heavy Metal X-mas!

Thanks to Matthew Arthur from Huntsville, Texas, for writing this awesome heavy-metal Xmas story. The first half of the story was printed in the upcoming issue of Revolver, which will be on stands December 21. You can check out the rest of it below.

"A Heavy-Metal Xmas Story "

Once long ago in the Valley of the Dark Abyss, three wise men, Ozzy, Ronnie James Dio (R.I.P.), and Robert Plant looked to the sky and saw a dark pentagram glowing many miles away. They knew at once the King was born.

They packed their belongings: weed, bongs, beer, and porn mags, and climbed atop their dragons to make the journey to the new King. Once they reached the destination of the new King, the parents of the newly born child introduced him as Randy Rhoads.

The three wise men spoke of the great things the child would do for the metal world and showered him with gifts. They brought Black Sabbath’s Paranoid, Led Zeppelin’s Houses of the Holy, and Dio’s Heaven and Hell with Sabbath. They said one day the child would make a great sacrifice for all of the metalheads of the world. The three wise men looked on with great pride as young Randy grew to be the most fiercest guitar player in the world, one of them even taking human form to work with him, but that’s another story.

The metal world was grateful for the metal injection it was receiving.

One day while on tour, a cloud opened up revealing John Bonham. He spoke to Randy saying, “It is time, Randy, to lay down your life for the future of metal.” Bonham spoke of the tragedies that were to come; Seattle grunge, emo, and Kings of Leon fans.

Randy accepted his fate to push the metal world from the abyss, sending bits and pieces of his soul to make metal last into the fingers of Kerry King, Dimebag Darrell (R.I.P.), Dave Mustaine, Kirk Hammett, Jeff Hanneman, Marty Friedman, and countless others, making it possible for us to smoke weed, drink beer, eat pussy, and most importantly, BANG YOUR FUCKING HEAD. You can’t kill rock-n-roll!

Merry X-mas to all metalheads!


Pulses of light,
Throbbing of hearts.
Voices in unison,
Glow in the dark.
Hands holding firm,
When the mind stands alone.
Snow falls slowly,
smearing branches with messages from the unreal
Remembrance in time,
Of all the smiles we had.

Saturday, December 18, 2010


Have been listening to this band "Mrigya" quite a lot in the near past. Great contemporary music, a good fusion of Indian and western styles. For me this band represents the next step in evolution in the type of music that Indian Ocean was and is at the forefront of. Please do give a listen cause the songs are darn good.

P.S.: Posting all the videos i could find. For audio, you know where to look....:)

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Aesthetics of Hate....R.I.P. Dimebag Darrell...

Well, for the metalheads out there, Dimebag Darrell, lead guitarist for Pantera/Damageplan was killed on 8th December 2004 in Ohio while playing on stage. While that was bad enough, this following article was just salt on wound and for no apparent reason.


You've undoubtedly heard by now that a demented fan last week killed heavy metal guitarist Dimebag Abbott at the Alrosa Villa in Columbus, Ohio . While I am extremely happy to hear that the assassin was shot to death by a brave Columbus policeman and I in no way want to engage in a blaming the victim scenario, I cannot deny that there much in Mr. Abbott's demise of one being hoisted on one's petard. The squalor, inhumanity, filth (both in the metaphorical and hygienic senses), depravity, ugliness and ignorance of everything that heavy metal represents (Like rap, I cannot use the noble term music in a description of heavy metal) creates a mindset among its devotees in which Mr. Abbott's assassination was an event that was all but waiting to happen.

It was highly amusing, and also terribly sad, to watch on television fans conducting a "vigil" for the slain Mr. Abbott outside of the Alrosa Villa. It was an assemblage of ignorant, semi-human barbarians who were filthy in attire and manner, intellectually incoherent and above all else, hideously ugly to the point of physical deformity. Here is a definite case in which the outer appearance of these "fans" accurately represented the hideousness of their souls. That the physical deformity of their ugliness was self-inflicted makes the spiritual tragedy of their misspent lives all the more tragic.

But one can see why the heavy metal fans so closely identified with Mr. Abbott. He was an ignorant, barbaric, untalented possessor of a guitar and large amplifier system. Freakish in appearance, more simian than human, he was the performer of a type of "entertainment" that can be likened only to a gorilla on PCP. Lacking subtlety, wit, style, emotional range and anything approaching even the smallest iota of intellectual or musical interest, Mr. Abbott was part of a generation that has confused sputum with art and involuntary reflex actions with emotion.

De gustibus non disputandem est. Matters of taste are not subject to argument. That has been a general principle of aesthetics for some time, and when we are talking about the visceral preference for Mozart or Haydn or Beethoven among civilized human beings we are on pretty safe ground. I do not understand exactly why I prefer Haydn to my good friend who prefers Beethoven. But we both agree (as do all civilized human beings) that both Messrs. Haydn and Beethoven are numerous steps further along the evolutionary trail than Dimebag Abbott.

Here is one area in which conservatives have failed and failed miserably. Whether it is out of a lack of interest or despair, conservatives for too long have ceded the entire field of aesthetics to the trust fund red babies of the blue states. And look at what this has brought us. So-called heavy metal music, so-called rap music, operas and stage plays in which modern "stagings" reduce Verdi and Shakespeare to the condition of a schizophrenic's finger paintings. Leftist domination in the visual arts has made a mockery of the aesthetic greatness of modernism and replaced it with the turd encased in Lucite. And the grammatically-challenged racist rantings of Amiri Baraka now pass for poetry.

However, we conservatives should not confuse family values with aesthetics. In the realm of art, our evangelical brethren have many crimes to answer for. When a church replaces Bach with Bacharach it has engaged in the aesthetic rape of the liturgy. Just because one has good intentions and approaches the numinous with "sincerity" and "authenticity" (the latter term ironically being a buzzword among the Marxist aestheticians of the Frankfurt School ), that does not absolve one from aesthetic responsibility.

As far as I am concerned, those who advocate a dumbed-down liturgy and schlocky pop music substitutes for Bach, Handel and the masses of the Renaissance, are as offensive as the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church and his perverse sexual politics.

Part of the hard work of civilization is teaching young to be able to distinguish between the good and the bad in all aspects of life. If we teach our young children to obey the 10 Commandments and to obey the laws of the land, but don't teach them to realize that Johann Sebastian Bach is superior to Dimebag Abbott, we have failed as parents and mentors. If a person has gone through 12 or 13 years of education and has not developed an appreciation for the greatest artistic achievements of mankind, that education has been an utter failure.

While laissez-faire is the correct approach to economics it has no place in the realm of aesthetics or morality. A confidant civilization imposes its morality and aesthetics on it young people. Yes, you heard it right. We impose. The Rousseauian noble savage is a myth. Left unchecked and untutored the savage will never attain nobility.

There are those who will accuse me of elitism. And I admit it. I am a conservative elitist. I want the very best. The very best form of government, the very best of civilizations, the very best educational system, the very best literature and art, the very best music, the very best way of life. If I need open heart surgery I want to go to an elite heart surgeon.

Mediocrity is the goal of socialism. Americans should aspire to greatness.

In the past forty years, conservatives have won great victories in the political, economic and moral realms, but we stand to throw all our gains away if we do not reclaim ascendancy in the aesthetic realm as well.

And while the murder of even a semi-human barbarian like Mr. Abbott is tragic and to be lamented, it would be wrong to ignore Mr. Abbott's complicity in contributing to the soul-deadening culture of death, ugliness, depravity and inhumanity that spawned his killer.

Hugo von Hofmannsthal once remarked that "all powerful imaginations are conservative." It is time for conservatives to utilize their imaginations and reclaim the field of aesthetics from the left-that is, while there is still something left in the aesthetic realm worth reclaiming.


Now, I do not need to say anything about this article other than - a load of bullshit. But here is the flip side. Machine Head guitar player and lead singer, Robb Flynn, is a great Dimebag fan and he was so incensed on reading this article, instead of slandering Mr. Grim, wrote a song, called "Aesthetics of Hate" which was released on their album "The Blackening". They had the last laugh, cause the song was nominated for the Grammy for "The Best Heavy Metal Song". Now thats rock 'n roll. 'Nuff said methinks. R.I.P. Dimebag and keep the gig alive up there!

P.S.: By the way, Dimebag is the lead guitarist of the greatest metal band there is in Heaven-land, if such a thing exists. The other members of the band are :

Lead singer : Ronnie James Dio (Ex - Black Sabbath, Heaven and Hell, Dio)
Lead/Rhythm Guitar : Randy Rhoads (Ex - Ozzy Osbourne)
Bass : Cliff Burton (Ex - Metallica )
Drums : John Bonham (Ex - Led Zeppelin)

Just wondering what kind of songs would they be churning out.................

Wednesday, December 8, 2010


Dedicated to all who were maimed in the December 6th blast at Varanasi.

Travelled he has, the distances of a great land;
Orange robes and sacred ashes his only possessions.

Begged for food, craved he wisdom;
Knowledge eternal to survive the mortal shell.

Callused his feet, found solace at temples and shrines,
hunger, satiated by nourishment from kind strangers.
The rebukes and the sneers, he had smiled through ;

Days and night, warm and cold, seasons left him marked.

Many years on, the banks of the Ganges he sees,
His joy known no bounds, tears run down in streaks.
"jai Ma Gange" chants he, raises his arms in praise,
Ran like a little child to his mother.

Spends his hours, meditating on the banks,

Closed eyes, steadfast in thought.
the noise and the movement around do not bother him;
For the rustle of the Ganges meandering is the only sound he can hear.

The morning aarti, his start of the day,
his material offering to the holy flow.
He held the flame and whirled it round,
Obeisance to the Water flowing down.

And loud, Hell opened up,

Shards of clay sprayed around.

Pandemonium reared its head and laughed,
And scared legs scatter all around

Loses his balance, the flame, goes tumbling

Trampled under a rain of feet.
unable to raise his arm,
unable to finish his prayer.

When the anarchy silenced down

The ripple of the waves was the only voice heard

he was bleeding from the cuts and scars
a river of red originating from him

All his life, he had prayed for salvation
meditated for knowledge,to be one with ether.
Prayed to the Ganges to bless his final journey
And promise him eternal salvation.

Saw he, his blood, rolling down the stairs,

and be one with the crystal River.
Dissolve in what he held holiest,
and resolve his quandary.

Summoned all his will and strength,
and all his humility he could muster.
He said "O Mother, take me with you"
"And lead me to salvation".