KISS: Go Away So We Can Miss You

KISS finally reached the end of the road, and as we all should have expected, they strapped all-terrain tires on so they don't have to slow down for even a second. If anyone actually thought KISS was going to fade from the scene after promising they were done playing live, I hate to think how naive that would make us.

We all know that music is both an art and a business, but we don't like having it rubbed in our faces that the people we sometimes admire, the people we spend so much of our energy caring about, look at us as nothing but wallets to be sucked dry. Luckily, I don't give a rat's ass about KISS, so this particular situation doesn't stir anything in me other than the usual disappointment with how society as a whole is transforming.

It was bad enough that we could wear KISS Kondoms to prevent groupie-related accidents, and that we could be buried in our KISS Kasket so we look as stupid in the afterlife as we do in this one, but those were relatively harmless endeavors. Every band these days has merch, often of questionable varieties, which is actually going to be KISS' biggest legacy as a band. Man, that's a depressing thought, isn't it?

As soon as the band was done playing their last concert on their last tour, it was announced that the band was not going anywhere, and they would soon be back out playing 'live' in avatar form. We saw this already with the Ronnie James Dio hologram, but KISS is already a living cartoon, so it almost makes you wonder if there's any difference between seeing the band themselves, as opposed to an animation of them. At least you won't be able to see the avatar straining to keep up with the absurdity of wearing those costumes and make-up well into their Social Security ages.

Where this leads my thoughts are to what this all means for music as a whole. We have already seen new music and new bands decimated by almost all forms of rock radio refusing to give up on the past. Whether you turn on the actual classic rock stations, or you go to one geared more toward modern rock, there is shockingly little new music being played. On the rock station I happen to hear from time to time, about half of the music they play is from the period between 1990 and 2005. Classic rock, obviously, is exclusively the even older stuff.

Where does that leave new bands?

They can't get their songs on the radio, and MTV doesn't play music anymore, so the conduits directly into our ears are no longer there. If anything, we are being fed a diet of exclusively old music, which only feeds into the idea that the old days were better than whatever is going on today. The one place where newer bands could compete was on the concert stage. Those bands could tour harder and longer than the old guys, so they could find the cracks in between the mega tours to try to make a name for themselves.

Now, even that opening is being nailed shut. As bands like KISS make clear they aren't going to leave the stage even as they die off, the old guard bands will continue to monopolize the venues, and the attention of the audiences. Few people are going to take a chance on going to see a new artist when the nicer venue across the street has a brand name they've already heard of. Yes, that includes when the brand name is nothing but an avatar. Actor's performances in movies are often enhanced to disgusting degrees by CGI without audiences rebelling and demanding more authenticity, so what are the odds that music fans will follow suit?

It very well might happen, but not until the fans of these old bands from the same generation are gone. As long as the older fans are the ones with the most money to spend on concerts, and they haven't listened to a new record since KISS put their make-up back on, we're stuck in a doom loop where the natural life cycle of music isn't allowed to exist.

When a band can't cut it live anymore, they're supposed to retire and find something else to do. Paul and Gene clearly don't need the money, but they can't help themselves. Rather than retire comfortably, and perhaps feel proud of all the bands who looked up to KISS for reasons I've never understood, they are taking steps to ensure the following generations never get their foot in the door.

It's all part of the mentality that there's only a certain amount of success to go around, and no matter how much of it you have had, seeing anyone else get some feels like it's being taken away from you. I actually feel sorry for people who think that way, because it means they likely can never be happy. Nothing will ever be enough.

The KISS avatars are akin to musical Viagra, and perhaps a metaphor about erections is the only thing they can understand. This isn't what anyone means when they say a corpse has gone stiff. KISS is embalming themselves to be wheeled out like a circus sideshow, and while there are plenty of suckers out there who will spend money because they can't stand staying home for a night, I hope the rest of us realize how much this resembles the fruitless search for the fountain of youth. There are so many things KISS could be doing, and they choose to try to keep living in the past.

What a terrible day to be a fan. Good thing I'm not.

My Favorite Bands/Artists

As I have said many times, one of the inevitabilities of life is that virtually everyone you put your faith in will eventually let you down. That might just be my cynicism showing through, but I have practical evidence of this. Assembling a list of my favorites bands/artists proves to be both easier and more difficult than I would expect, as there are few bands who consistently deliver music that resonates with me over the course of time. Even for those I love dearly, there are almost always albums (if not entire eras) I would rather push out of my mind and pretend never happened.

There are also those bands who only have a certain period of their career I love, which is not always enough for me to call myself a big enough fan to include them on this sort of list.

With that being said, I can narrow the list down to these ten who stand apart from all the rest, because they are the ones who have been there time and time again for me. In a rough, but not strict order:

Tonic

After more than twenty years as the reflexive answer to the question of my favorite band, Tonic remains the one group to only disappoint me by not getting around to disappointing me. They made me want to be a musician, I learned a lot about how songs are written listening to them, but more than anything Tonic is the soundtrack to the person I used to be. All four of their albums can live on repeat in my head, and perhaps it's that they stopped making records that keeps the edges of the impression they left so sharp.

Dilana

What is left to say? I have written so many words over the years to explain what Dilana means to me, and how I can feel my blood warming when I hear her voice. It's a connection I can't explain properly, other than to say that when she sings in my favorite song of all time, "I'm so bloody fucked up", it's as if my own voice is the breath she pushes to exorcise her pain. As great as so many of her songs are, no composition can compare to the power her voice has to hypnotize me. Hers is the voice of love, pain, and God, brewed in a honey-soaked ink I am honored to write her name on my heart with.

Meat Loaf

This is where it all started. I don't know who I would be if I hadn't seen "I'd Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)" on VH-1. The combination of Meat's voice and Steinman's writing has defined so much of who I am and how I think. I never get tired of the melodrama when it's done right, regardless of who the songs come from. The "Bat Out Of Hell" albums taught me to be a smart-ass, so much so that I can laugh at the fact Meat sang a love/sex song with his own daughter. If that's not loving an artist, I don't know what is.

The Wallflowers

I can't count how many pages are covered in my scrawled poetry, and that all traces back to The Wallflowers. Jakob Dylan's poetry in music was a novelty I hadn't heard before, and it unlocked something in my personality I didn't think existed. "Breach" changed me, and there is still a part of me that hears "One Headlight" as what must have been going through my head when I stared off into the darkness on a sleepless teenage night. The Wallflowers are, in my twisted perspective, a sophisticated Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers for my generation.

Jimmy Eat World

There are certain bands who simply sound emotional, no matter what they're doing. Jimmy Eat World is one of those bands for me, where it doesn't matter if they're playing a mournful ballad or a punk-tinged rocker, there is a sense of pain and melancholy that comes through. I am one of those type of people, and I have found in recent years this music speaking to me in ways it never did. "Futures" is now without doubt my favorite album of all time, "Bleed American" is forty-five minutes of what youth sounded like, and I can't think of many songs better than "Dizzy". Jimmy Eat World feels like my transition to whatever comes next.

Elvis Costello

I own more Elvis Costello albums than by anyone else. He is a volume scorer, for sure, but has shown me what it means to be an artist. From the pub rock of "My Aim Is True" (I still say 'rhythmically admired' might be the best masturbation euphemism in a song), to the new wave of "This Year's Model", to his Americana on "King Of America", I learned from Elvis that everything beyond the song is window-dressing. He takes on different personas, and different sounds, but the great song is the great song. All you need is a lyric and a melody, and he's had so, so many of them.

Halestorm

Outside of Dilana, no one's voice has had as much impact on me as Lzzy Hale. I call her the voice of my generation for a reason, and I find myself playing Halestorm songs just to hear her when I need to feel the human connection that comes through her instrument. Whether she is cooing the opening lines of "The Silence", or screaming from the bottom of her soul like that one note in "Innocence", Lzzy is honesty on record. I find myself appreciating that more and more as I get older, as I want to hear music I can relate to and have resonate. Lzzy can move your chest simply with power, but she writes songs that let her wrap around your heart and squeeze them in time to the beat.

Ronnie James Dio

I'm cheating a bit with this one. From "Rising" in 1975 through "Holy Diver" in 1983, no one has ever had a better run of rock/metal than Ronnie James Dio. Across three different bands, with three very different sounds, Dio's voice became the sound of heavy metal. He is the bellowing of drama itself, telling stories through volume and grit. "Heaven & Hell" might be the best metal album ever made, "Stargazer" might be the most epic rock song ever, but there's no doubt Dio is the greatest metal singer of all time. I would like to think the multiverse is real, just so I can imagine how much more greatness Rainbow or Black Sabbath could have given us if Dio hadn't moved on to his next triumph.

Edguy/Avantasia

I'm considering these as one entry, since Tobias Sammet wrote 99% of the music across both projects. I have two sides to my personality, where I used to love pop music, but I also love huge guitars. Tobi manages to blend those two things better than almost anyone else. It was "The Headless Game" that set me off down the metal path, and Tobi has routinely shown me that my musical tastes aren't crazy, and they do sort of make sense. I love everything from "The Pharaoh" to "Lavatory Love Machine" to "The Story Ain't Over" and "The Scarecrow". Tobi is what I've always wanted more metal to be.

Graveyard

I don't listen to much classic rock, because while other people talk about it as being a timeless sound and style, I find it rather out-of-time. Graveyard, though, sounds utterly timeless to me. There is a resonance to their sound that echoes through time, and Joakim's rumbling voice is the tone of age creeping up on me. I may not understand the blues, but I understand Graveyard. I might not understand classic rock, but I understand rock that is classic. I'm drawing distinctions without meaning to anyone besides myself, but listen to the thump of the guitar tone on "Don't Take Us For Fools". That sounds to me like a rock and roll heartbeat, which gives us the strength to be as moved as we are by "Slow Motion Countdown". Simplicity is genius, and that is Graveyard.

Who just missed the cut?

Blues Traveler

"Four" was the first CD I ever owned. While today I do feel sheepish that I proved John Popper's point on "Hook", I made up for that by being one of the people who stuck around after their brief flirtation with fame fizzled out. It's actually that under-appreciated era I find myself liking the most these days, when they went in search of another pop hit that would never come. "Bridge" is the record most people sleep on, but even later, "Suzie Cracks The Whip" perhaps shows that "Hook" was too cynical even for them to learn the lesson. Perhaps I did.

Dave Matthews Band

My favorite guitarist is probably Dave, and I find myself getting drawn more into his 'sad bastard' phases more and more with time. The chords in "#41" are haunting, I have often found my brain as twisted as his fingers trying to understand how he can play "Tripping Billies" while singing it, and I have borrowed the chords from "Grey Street" for my own use on more than one occasion. There is a core of DMB music I would be lost without, especially the unreleased "Lillywhite Sessions", but it comes amid Dave's weirdness putting me off from time to time. With a bit of editing, like a whole lot less "Alligator Pie", they would surely be on my list.

Soen

When I think of where evolution should have taken metal, it is best embodied by Soen. Their stretch of albums from "Lykaia" to "Memorial" is flawless, and in some ways has kept me afloat as a music fan in recent years. They are records I can always put on and feel coursing through me. If their first two records were better, maybe they wouldn't have been cut. They might be the most painful exclusion.

And with that, perhaps you will come to understand the contradictions that define me. As was said by Walt Whitman, "I contain multitudes."

Singles Roundup: Bruce Dickinson, The Grandmaster, Judas Priest, & Kobra Paige

In the ol' grab-bag this week:

Bruce Dickinson - Afterglow Of Ragnarok

It will have been nineteen years by the time Bruce's album gets released in 2024. That is an eternity, and it had me rather worried he and Roy Z would have lost the momentum behind three of my favorite metal albums ever. We now have the first taste of "The Mandrake Project", and I'm feeling better about things. The mix is a little light on guitars, and I'm not sure the pieces quite fit together seamlessly, but it's a good song that is far more effective than "If Eternity Should Fail", which was pilfered from this album years ago. This has echoes of "The Chemical Wedding" to it, and while I know nothing will ever reach those heights again, being able to open a chalet halfway up that mountain will ensure the record will be a tent-pole release for the year. I'm optimistic now.

The Grandmaster - Watching The End

I've come around on this project's first album, which has grown on me once the stink of being another album off the conveyor belt wore off. It was great to hear Edguy's Jens Ludwig playing guitar again, and the songs were melodic gems that did a good enough job of filling that hole. The problem is that like so often, I feel like an idiot for getting my hopes up about anything. These 'bands' are just thrown together with whomever happens to be around at the time, and that means a new singer for album number two. I really liked Nando, and the new guy grates on me after just this one song. A promising group is now reduced to being filler if I don't have much else to talk about that week. I'm not looking forward to an entire album of this voice, and having the label pull the rug out from under me again. Is it any wonder why none of these things ever really takes off? How can they?

Judas Priest - Panic Attack/Trial By Fire

I will say this; at least in the studio, Rob Halford is aging like no one else. His vocals sound stellar on these two songs, and I'm sure all the metal fans are going to love another dose of Priest with blueprint metal production. As I've never really been a Priest fan, I look at these songs with a curiosity. "Panic Attack" is actually quite good, and does the job better than most of the bands that make a living copying Priest (*cough*Primal Fear*cough*). Unfortunately, "Trial By Fire" is cliche 80s metal where not much care was given to having a sturdy and memorable melody. It's one step forward, one step back for me, which means Priest is still one of those bands I'm more interested in hearing other people's take on than actually hearing.

Kobra Page - Love What I Hate/Under One Sun

It seems Kobra is releasing a solo album next year, which I find rather interesting. I thought the band was doing well, and these songs aren't exactly treading much new ground. Oh well. This is another case of one good and one band. "Love What I Hate" finds Kobra being a bit more mainstream than usual, but delivering a great vocal on a solid melodic rock song. I like that one. "Under One Sun" has more emphasis on rhythm, and it's hard for me to find the chorus melody, so it feels like an experiment that should have been left on the cutting room floor. I don't like that one. These don't really tell me what to expect from an album, so I'm going to temper my expectations.

Album Review: Lacey Sturm - Kenotic Metanoia

I pretty much checked out on 2023 early this year. By the middle of November, I was ready to call 'cut' on this one, and I didn't see anything listed on my calendar of upcoming releases to keep me invested in continuing the search until next year's albums started to roll in. This sort of thing happens every year, but it set in a bit earlier than usual, which only reinforces everything I've been thinking all along. Still, I'm never truly closed off from something new catching my attention at the last minute, and that's a quality I'm always a bit proud of.

This year's late entry comes in the form of Lacey Sturm, the Flyleaf singer who is now releasing her second solo album. Funnily enough, my only real experience with Flyleaf is from the first album she was not with the band for. There's one song from that one I've always remembered fondly, so when I saw Lacey's name pop up on my radar, I was a bit curious what she was doing on her own that didn't make sense to do as a Flyleaf record. I think I understand.

The songs on this record are a chronicle of Lacey's spiritual journey, telling us about the moments of clarity that define the way we see the world. It doesn't make as much sense to put these out under any other name, because they are the focus of her life, they are the ethos that drives everything she does.

It also so happens that Lacey is the sort of voice who towers above a band, and she is going to find up the focal point no matter what she does. Her voice has as much power as a full stack of Marshall amps, but more than that, she is a performer in the purest sense. She belts the songs out when needed, but on a song like "(I Died)" she throws so many colors and inflections into her singing that she is acting out the moment when you stare up from the bottom and see the edges of the hole finally grow closer. Listening to her is captivating, and she lays down some of the best vocal performances I've heard all year.

Mainstream rock is hard to talk about, both because it doesn't seem to mean much of anything anymore, but also because so much of it fits into a box so narrow we can't turn around to see if we've passed by the point. Lacey's songs are mainstream rock, but done with such care and attention to detail that they elevate to the highest tier. Her melodies are superb, grounding all of these tracks in choruses that pop out from the background like a pastel-colored children's book. These are dark sounding songs, but given such heart they're hard to keep away from.

The highlight is "Breathe With Me", a dramatic song featuring Lacey's voice intertwined with Lindsey Stirling's violin. It is gorgeous, moving, and makes me think some rock band needs to have a full-time violin player. The tone is undeniable, and it gives the record a crescendo that makes it feel like a true journey that has taken us to somewhere new and unexpected.

I don't know what kind of year it was for the mainstream rock charts, since I don't pay attention to that sort of thing, but I have a hard time thinking there was much (if anything) from that world better than this record. It's late in the year, but that just makes it even more satisfying to find a record that makes this kind of impact. After everything 2023 has had in store for us, and our minds are overloaded and ready to be purged, Lacey Sturm found room to wedge in another great memory.

How 'bout that?

Twenty Years With Opeth's "Damnation"

Opeth's entire career has been a case of "What if?" At first, I found myself wondering how great they could become if they weren't committed to being a death metal band. When they no longer were, I found myself wondering how great they could have been if they didn't abandon everything heavy they once were. I could always hear something in Opeth I loved, and I could see the path to the promised land, but Opeth was never willing to point their compass in that direction. So while I do enjoy what is right now the middle period of their catalog, every listen comes with my mind wandering to a future that never came.

The one exception to those trends is "Damnation", the album that might have been made simply to prove that the band was prog all along. The companion to their heaviest record, "Damnation" was Opeth's first attempt to strip away all of the extremity and metal from their sound. This record is all atmosphere, bathing us in a melancholy that may even exceed anything Katatonia has ever managed.

From the very first notes of "Windowpane", this record makes clear what we are dealing with. Clean guitars, jazzy drumming, and ample keyboards soften Opeth's sound without diluting their identity at all. The chord progressions are pure Opeth, merely without the distortion hiding that side of Mikael Akerfeldt's influences. His vocals are just as soothing, and he is one of the rare singers who is better when he isn't putting as much into his performances. These are intimate recordings, sung softly, like a cooing lullaby as the shadows creep up the bed.

In fact, the song "Death Whispered A Lullaby" is a fitting description of the record as a whole. The atmosphere hangs heavy in the air, and the melody wraps around us like a pall, warming us for the journey to the next destination. These are amazing songs that show something that was always present in Opeth's music, as we saw in "Face Of Melinda" or "Harvest", but was more of a sideshow attraction to the endless ten-minute forays.

So why do I say Opeth's entire career is a case of "What if?"

Like every other entry, "Damnation" suffers a fatal, self-inflicted wound. After six tracks that redefine everything we thought we knew about Opeth, the record ends with two throw-away songs that tail off like a skid mark pointing over the cliff. Opeth pulls the rug out from under us, and everything the feeling of this record was stirring up in us gets consumed by the bitter aftertaste we are left with. It sounds as if the band only realized after recording the album that they didn't have enough songs to pull this off, so they threw together whatever they could to pad it out.

That is a shame, because "Damnation" should be Opeth's true masterpiece. I love "Still Life" and "Blackwater Park" like everyone else does, but a full record of Damnation hitting on all cylinders would be untouchable, even by Opeth. Unfortunately, there is a second problem that is even harder to ignore, and that can't be remedied by treating "Damnation" as an EP you turn off two songs early.

"Damnation" ruined modern Opeth, because it shows us exactly why their recent records fall short. Their outright prog direction is similar in tone, but not in execution. When Mikael ditched growling to focus on clean singing, he not only started to sing beyond the means of his voice, but also lost his ability to write his unforgettable melodies. The new records might be longer, and more involved, but they do so much less with so much more. An entire decade has now passed with every Opeth release sounding like the echo of their real voice.

Twenty years after "Damnation" came out, it is as frustrating as it has ever been. The greatness is still apparent, but now it is also the proof that some of us don't hate Opeth for making their change, but for not doing it well. "Damnation" proves that prog Opeth has been a decade of disappointment, and maybe the way the record immolates itself was a sign even Opeth knew they weren't going to be able to reach those heights ever again. They warned us not to get too attached, but we didn't listen.

What if "Damnation" fulfilled its promise? What if "Damnation" was the masterpiece it should be? Well, I probably would be able to put my frustrations with Opeth aside more easily.

A Short Story: "In The Groove"

Editor's note: I am taking Black Friday off, so to celebrate the day, please enjoy this re-post of an original, comedic short story.

****

The doorknob spun in his hand faster than his mind could think, if he ever bothered to do so. The hinge almost dripped oil as the door swung open in a gliding arc, silently cutting a semicircle in the sunlight warming the floor. He moved to take a step inside, but froze in place when his eyes focused as he turned the corner. That delay had always felt like a curse to him, a mistake in his wiring that slowed him down when the world was speeding up with every revolution.

The figures came into shape, two lovers engaged in the act. She was leaning forward, her elbows dug into the mattress, her face blankly reflecting the blue light from a computer screen. Behind her, her younger man's skin glistened, the work obvious on his form.

He snapped his eyes closed as quickly as he could, but not before the image was burned into his memory, a postcard to be sent again and again from Misery. He threw his hands up, blocking residual torture from borrowing through his eyelids. As his throat fought not to spasm, she noticed his presence. She did not move.

"Are you just going to stand there?" she asked.

"What are you doing, mom?"

"I'm trying to learn how to fold a fitted sheet," she responded flatly.

He opened his eyes just enough to check if he was the only one whose skin had turned bright red. To his amazement, he had not interrupted.

"Do you think your friend can stop while I'm standing right here?"

"You walked in without knocking. I'm the one who should feel uncomfortable," she said.

The man behind her slowed down, but did not pause his motion. His eyes moved from one to the other.

"Should I stop?" he asked.

"Yes!"

"No, dear. This talk can wait until we're done," she argued.

The man stopped, and disengaged from her. He looked to salvage his dignity, and picked up a t-shirt from the floor behind him. He placed it over himself, letting it hang in the air like a slightly soiled ghost, not hiding the outline. He sidled past and moved toward the door.

"I'm going to finish in the other room," he says.

"You don't have to do that," she replies.

"Yes he does."

She looked at her son, having not moved. She didn't show it, but she enjoyed his embarrassment.

"Seriously? You can't find anyone to sleep with who isn't one of my friends?"

"They're the easiest ones to meet," she says.

"You know that's not the point."

"Unless you were planning to sleep with them, what does it matter if I do?" she asks.

"Don't throw logic into this. We're talking about feelings. Disgust, mostly."

"Is it disgusting for me to screw him, or for him to screw me?" she asks.

"That question is a trap."

"You're going to have to accept that you're not the only one in this family with needs. It's not my fault your friends are delicious," she says.

"Please tell me that's a metaphor."

"Sure, it can be one of those too," she says.

"I can't handle this."

"That's what he said," she replies.

"Oh God."

"He said that too," she says.

"I'm done."

"We didn't get that far," she says.

He took a deep breath, occupying his mouth so words he will later regret don't come flying out. He shook his head, and turned to leave the room. Before his senses caught up to him, he was outside, walking down the street. His autopilot knew where to take him, and he enjoyed the silence until the rhythm of his shoes clicking on the asphalt began to remind him of music, and a song crept into his mind from somewhere in the shadows. It was an inevitability.

He arrived at the record shop, entering as the broken bell made the small clatter of a closed hi-hat, not doing anything but making the new arrival question if their presence has even registered. He considered it a fitting metaphor.

"Best song for finding one of your best friends balls deep in your mother? Go," he shouts.

The owner of the store was sitting behind the counter, tracing the groove of a vinyl record with his finger, as if he could play the music directly into his blood. He stopped his circle when the words registered.

"That's the weirdest one we've ever thrown out there," he says.

"Every situation needs a soundtrack."

"Is there something you want to talk about?" he asks.

"Not really. I just need something to flush my head out."

The other girl in the store drew closer, her energy a black cloud that for the first time didn't feel like an omen.

"How about The Darkness' "Get Your Hands Off Of My Woman"?" the owner suggests.

"Good try, but she's not mine. That would be even creeper than what I saw."

"So you saw something?" he asks.

"Can we not talk about it?"

"Sure. If you want to clear your mind, how about Fastball's "Outta My Head?" he says.

"You're getting closer.

Her voice came from behind him, as if the devil on his shoulder was speaking.

"Tom Petty. "Into The Great Wide Open"," she says.

"I don't get it."

"I figure since you wrecked her life, you probably wrecked her body too."

The owner of the store put his hand over his mouth, trying to not visibly laugh. Family trauma should not be a comedy, at least not when the one being tortured is present. The mocking should be done behind one's back, as is proper.

"I really don't want to talk about my mom's..... you know."

"We can talk about whether your friend is hung enough for her instead," she says.

"That's not helping."

The owner disappeared below the counter, leaving him alone with the inappropriate voice putting bad thoughts in his head.

"Don't you want your mother to be happy?" she asks.

"That's not the point."

"And isn't it better she not get involved with some skeezy guy who could be a serial killer or something?" she asks.

"Yeah, but..."

"So your mom banging your friend might be keeping her alive," she assures him.

A few chords rang out over the speaker. They were familiar, but he couldn't quite place them. It took him a moment before he realized the joke. "She Bangs" continued to play.

"Oh, screw off."

He gave the other two the finger as they lost control of their laughter. As Ricky Martin pounded home the chorus, he couldn't help but crack a smile as well. A good joke is a good joke, even when it hurts.

"Why don't you get yourself laid so you can forget about it?" the owner asks.

"The only place I know to meet people is here, and that's a disaster. It's hard to be with someone with bad taste in music."

"What does someone's taste in music have to do with sexing them up?" the girl asks.

"My mother has a whole theory about it. She says if she meets a guy buying a record from a pop star, he's probably more interested in eating a bag of Cheetos."

"Orange is tastier than pink. Got it," she says.

"I'm ignoring that. If he's got tattoos and is in the rock section, he probably slaps it around without knowing how to use it at all. And if they're into emo or synthwave, they're probably good at oral."

"Because they're too sad to get it up," she surmises.

"Exactly."

"What about if they're into something like The Smiths?" the owner asks. "I'm asking for a friend."

"You probably need to draw them a picture of how it's supposed to work."

"Sounds about right," she says.

"The last date I went on, we started talking about music, and she tells me he doesn't like music. Like, she doesn't listen to any music at all, just podcasts."

"The monster," she says.

"I didn't know what to say. I'm thinking to myself about how desperate for human connection you have to be to listen to people you don't know talk about stuff you don't care about. And if you never listen to music, you can't have any rhythm, so how do you figure out how to get it on?"

"This isn't very scientific, you know?" the owner interjects.

"Psychology is more important than science. Science can't explain why nearly every stupid thing humans have ever done was in the pursuit of getting in someone's pants."

"Every good thing, too," the owner adds.

"They do say that most business gets done under the table," she points out.

"That's not what that expression means."

"You don't know that," she responds.

"Why do I ever come to you people looking for some advice?"

"Because no one else likes you," she says.

"Are we that bad at it?" the owner asks.

"Let's see. You are the one who brought a boom box into the delivery room so you could play Danzig's "Mother" while your wife was giving birth."

"I was going to play "Stacy's Mom" if we were going to have a girl," he adds.

"It's no wonder you're divorced," she replies.

The owner took a sarcastic bow.

"Your sadness does make me feel better about myself."

"So do you want the new Morrissey album or not?" the owner asks.

"You know what? I don't think I'm sad enough for that anymore."

"Good. Listening to Morrissey is worse than walking in on your mom's o-face," she says.

"Great. There goes my mood again..."

"I'll put on a record for you," the owner says.

Fergie's "M.I.L.F. $" began to play.

"I hate you guys."

"We hate you too," they reply.

Dream Theater Reunites: Do Band Reunions Matter If Nothing Changes?

Recent news has been that the classic lineup of Dream Theater is reuniting for the first time in a dozen years, with Mike Portnoy leaving his journeyman status behind. These developments have been met with plenty of fanfare from the fans, which is an interesting bit of psychology. While I am not a huge Dream Theater fan, I was aware enough of what they were doing to know that Portnoy was not so beloved when he left the band at the time.

The last couple of albums of his tenure were controversial among the fans. Portnoy was bringing new influences into the band's sound that not everyone was a fan of, and that perhaps weren't integrated with the kind of care and nuance we would expect from an 'intellectual' band.

They made "Train Of Thought", which was obviously inspired by their love of Metallica and classic metal. It is by far their heaviest record, and it was also where some more modern, rhythmic vocal lines started to creep in. Without knowing the context, one listen makes it clear it was an album from the days of nu-metal, and as such it sticks out like a sore thumb. This record was still well-received, since metal fans rarely complain about there being too much metal in their metal. Personally, I find it to be rather difficult to listen to these days. The production is stifling with its insistence on everything being heavy, so much so the record comes out sounding monotone and rather boring. On top of that, there are a few songs that don't break that up with solid melodies, and instrumental widdly that has almost no transition to justify its existence. This is where the band's penchant for writing in the studio became clear, because it sounds like the first draft of pieces put in order, but without the edges sanded down to make sure they fit together.

Further down the road, we would get riffs that sounded like they were bringing in influence from Muse, who were big at the time, but had nothing at all in common with Dream Theater. The complaints started to grow.

They reached their head when "Black CLouds & Silver Linings" came out, as that record encompassed everything Dream Theater fans were getting frustrated with. Portnoy took on the role of harsh vocalist on "A Nightmare To Remember" for some unknown reason. "The Shattered Fortress" finished off his decade-long conceptual suite about recovery, but did so by pasting together many themes from the older entries. Not only did this feel rather cheap, but to be frank, those songs are often the dullest numbers on their respective albums. And then there was "The Count Of Tuscany", which would be one of the band's best epic songs, if not for the fact the lyrics are on the level of a low-budget schlocky horror movie.

I say all of this to illustrate my confusion for why the reaction to the news has been so strongly positive. Not only was Dream Theater not exactly firing on all cylinders when Portnoy left, but little of the music Portnoy has done since leaving has given me reason to think he is the missing piece that will revitalize the band. His work with The Winery Dogs is good, but isn't really any different than what Richie Kotzen can do on his own. Sons Of Apollo was a disappointing attempt to make a more modern prog metal band, and might actually represent where Dream Theater was headed in an alternate universe. And his work with The Neal Morse Band got less interesting with each self-indulgent album.

In that same time, Dream Theater made albums that ranged from great ("A Dramatic Turn Of Events" - their best record) to downright horrible ("The Astonishing" - one of the worst concept records ever), but for the most part did what Dream Theater is supposed to be doing. You didn't have to keep up with the charts to know what was influencing them on any given day, which was a nice development. Were the record less exciting because they stuck to being Dream Theater? Perhaps, but since fans tend to complain as much about bands changing as they do bands not changing, it's not as if they could win anyway.

With Portnoy returning, it seems inevitable the next record will be billed as a 'return to form', and they will trot out all the hallmarks of the Dream Theater sound. That means... the next record will likely be just like the last few. So what exactly is the big deal here if all that's changing is which order the drums are hit during the fills?

Look, I'm not trying to dump on the reunion. While I'm no die-hard, I do enjoy some Dream Theater from time to time, and I'm sure I'll be listening to their reunion album when it comes out. On a personal level, it's great for them that their relationships have healed to the point they can be back together as the group that has spent most of their lives together. On a musical level, I just don't see how it is going to change things very much, which means I'm not sure why the excitement among the fans is so high.

Does this prove that sometimes our reaction to music isn't actually to do with the music, but rather the psychology of our own relationships with bands? I'm thinking that's the case, and it's rather interesting. More interesting to me than the actual news sparking the discussion.

Happy 'No Thanks-giving'

This is the season of Thanksgiving, wherein we take stock and give thanks for the things that bring us joy and comfort in our lives. Today, I feel like doing the opposite, and instead talking about a few things in music I'm not thankful for. There are plenty of people, bands, trends, and sounds that have pained my ears over the course of my lifetime, and while they come up naturally from time to time, right now I'm savoring the irony of taking this opportunity to list a few of them.

So without any further ado, here are a few of the things in music I am saying 'no thanks' to:

Ozzy Osbourne: He may be called The Prince Of Darkness, and Black Sabbath might not have ever established metal as we know it without him, but I cannot stand Ozzy. He has always been, to me, the least talented person in music who achieved that level of success. At least Britney Spears could dance and take a good photo. Ozzy was a terrible gimmick, not very responsible for the songs that shot him to fame, and the possessor of one of the few voices in the professional ranks I actually hate even more than my own.

If you ask me about Black Sabbath, the answer will invariably be about Ronnie James Dio, or even Tony Martin. They are the singers of Black Sabbath to me, and no matter how often I hear the early records praised, I simply cannot listen to them with Ozzy's warbling all over the songs. Luckily, I also think Randy Rhodes had the absolute worst guitar tone in recorded music history, so I don't feel any shame at all about ignoring Ozzy's first solo records. I would like to enjoy Sabbath, as the Dio stuff is among my favorite metal of all time, but I can't hear Ozzy without thinking about how much higher our standards have gotten since then. He wouldn't get a record deal if he was just starting out these days, would he?

Even worse is that half of all doom bands try to copy him. Ugh.

Led Zeppelin: Of all my opinions, the one I feel most sheepish about putting out there is the fact that despite trying several times to get into Led Zeppelin, I just can't seem to do it. I know they are important, and I know pretty much everyone else in the world thinks they're one of the greatest bands of all time, but I hear them completely differently. They are still a foundational piece in the development of rock music, and they illustrate to me that I don't particular care for those embryonic states.

It stems from the blues. Zeppelin built so heavily from the blues, and that form of music doesn't speak to me the way you would think it should, given my personality and penchant for brooding. The fact of the matter is that the blues rhythms tend to drive vocalists in directions that don't mesh with the kinds of melodies that stick in my head. Robert Plant wails away, and I can barely remember anything he's ever sung. Much of the classic rock of that era suffers from the same problem, as the idea of integrating pop-ish melodies to catch the listener's attention hadn't yet become a big thing. That's the one way I will praise KISS. Don't ask me to do it again.

Zeppelin defines my belief that the vocal line is 90% of most songs, and because Plant and I don't hear music the same way, I find Zeppelin's songwriting to be too slippery to embrace.

Lazy Harsh Vocalists: You might get the impression I hate extreme metal, and I understand why. I have rarely talked positively about death metal, and even less so as the years have gone on. In fact, I don't actually remember the last time I listened to a full album of pure death metal. The reason for that is quite simple; I find death metal to be lazy, in one particular way.

There's an album Dan Swano released called "Moontower", and on that record he growls 90% of the lyrics. It also happens to be one of my favorite records. So what gives? Swano somehow mastered the art of growling actual melodies. I can listen to a song like "Patchwork" and hear it as a melodic metal song, and it would be amazing. For almost all other death metal I hear, the vocal patterns are flat and static, barking out syllables that have little pitch movement. If you sung those with a clean voice, they would almost be talking. You could make the argument that Meshuggah is just harsh spoken word. There isn't a need among the fans to do better, so the artists don't bother.

I cannot be thankful for how many times I've been told a death metal album is finally going to win me over again, only to be smacked by the same old issue.

Concept Albums: Music really isn't the right format to tell long-form stories. I've heard way too many concept albums over the years, and here's an admission; I don't actually know the story to a single one of them. Songwriting and narrative writing are completely different, and the odds of being great at both of them are very low. Just on that factor, most concept albums fail to deliver simply on the basis of telling stories I'm not interested in. I don't know how many story-lines about battles and magic I've run across. It's great if you're a fantasy literature fan, but that's not me.

Beyond that, concept albums suffer from the fact that there aren't enough words in typical songs to properly tell the story. Either the lyrics get turned into clumsy narrative that has no musicality or flow to them, or much of the narrative gets put into liner notes that try to explain what the songs are trying, but failing, to get across. At least in a theatrical setting, you also have dialogue and visuals to get more of the story across. Narration on record doesn't work well, gets incredibly annoying on repeated listening, and only proves that the songs themselves can't do the intended job.

Don't even get me started on prog concept albums that have five-minute long instrumental passages. How exactly do those relate to the story?

'Balls Caught In Their Zipper' Singers: Whether it's Robert Plant, or Jon Anderson of Yes, I hate how much of rock and metal has been defined by singers who perform at the highest limits of their register. Even if they aren't going into full-on painful shrieking like Rob Halford is famous for, it's a sound that hurts my ears. Those high notes are painful like a whistle being blown directly in my ear, and they often don't sound like they belong with the music the rest of the band is playing.

It also plays into a bit of culture I've never quite understood. Why exactly does a musical culture that is mostly made up of guys who only hang out with other guys, and who only listen to other guys, love singers who often sing in the same range as women.... and in the past would often have even longer and more teased hair?

Part of me wonders if there's a degree of projection in here, where these people are trying to find a safe and sanitized way of having something they don't want to tell their friends about due to embarrassment. Was a band like Poison really a big and popular rock band, or were they filling the role women weren't allowed to fill? I can't say for sure, but since I've come to hate 'bro' culture so much, it's a thought I keep coming back to.

There are more things that annoy me, including covers albums, double albums, instrumental music, worthless introductions, and the trifecta of band/album/song all sharing the same name. We'll save those for if I do this again next year. Perhaps 'No Thanks-giving' will become a tradition.

Quick Reviews: DGM, Ignescent, & Soledriver

I don't have much to say about these records, all coming from Frontiers Records this month, but let's say something anyway.

DGM - Life

This Italian prog band has the right idea. While the playing is expert, and still rather technical, the focus is still on writing great songs. They don't all hit that level, but there is a focus on melodies we don't often get in prog metal, and it's refreshing to hear amazing musicians who want to impress us with more than merely their raw ability. I will say I find the music to be busy enough at times that it gets a bit tiring to listen to the entire record in one sitting. There isn't much in the way of diversity, as notes keep coming at you in rapid fire, and perhaps a bit more shifting in tone and tempo could have gone a long way. This is still a good record, but it's one that is actually too focused, if you can believe it.

Ignescent - Fight In Me

One of the more modern bands on the roster, Ignescent fills the same sort of style that New Years Day and the like have been making popular. It's very heavy, peppered with modern electronic bits, and a bit of a bizarro-world take on pop/rock. It's certainly interesting, and I think there is potential in there for something really good, but they're still putting the pieces together on just how to do that. If they can work on honing the hooks, they have something to offer. For this record, I think they're still standing in the shadow of the bands they're obviously inspired by.

Soledriver - Return Me To Light

Oh look, it's yet another Michael Sweet project. This time, he teams up with the label's in-house songwriter for some melodic rock a-la Journey. I think I pegged Del Vecchio at having written over a hundred songs on records last year, and that's just too much. I'm sorry, but I don't think anyone can write that many songs and have them all be worth listening to. Plus, I'm burned out on his style, and I don't need to hear any more of it for a long time. Combine that with Sweet's voice, which seems to operate at full volume 90% of the time, which flattens out every melody, and this is the sort of thing that shows there's a difference between being melodic and being hooky. This is melodic, sure, but I don't really remember a bit of it.

The Epilogue: The Spider Accomplice Spins Their Last Web

As we were told by Axl Rose, "Nothing lasts forever, even cold November rain."

This November, we got the news that regularly featured favorites The Spider Accomplice are ending their period of web-spinning. After completing their first European tour, the band announced they have decided to pursue other goals, which means they are saying goodbye to this era.

It's been a rather eventful batch of years, and I still get a chuckle out of how it all started for me. To think I wound up writing so many words about a band I only heard because of a collaboration years earlier that never produced an actual song until well down the line. It's one of those stories that explains why music is so wonderfully weird, and how often luck comes into play when we realize how our tastes were formed.

In that short stretch of time, we were treated to three EPs and a full-length record. Like the light reflecting off of a spider's silk, every time we saw them was a different experience, as their sound was always changing color and tone from one song to the next. The constant was their dedication to not giving a damn about fitting in, as I certainly felt a kinship with their artistic predilections, even when they veered in directions I would not have thought to go myself.

When their trio of EPs was finished, I created a special award to honor the full "Los Angeles" experience, because it created a record with ambition to rise above the usual fare. Even if we weren't told the full story, the pieces dotted a trail I wanted to follow. That trail would lead us through a string of singles that showcased how diverse we are as people, with ballads opening up our pain, rockers pumping our adrenaline, and pop songs widening our smiles. They were able to do more in their short time than some bands who will remain nameless have managed over decades.

So while the news is sad, we should maintain perspective. There is that old question about whether it is better to have loved and lost than never loved at all. The asshole in me is fond of twisting that into the couplet, "those who say it's better to have loved and lost/are obviously the ones love has never double-crossed", but that's admittedly me burying feelings in wry humor.

The truth is that of course it was better to have loved a band that comes to an end, rather than never having them around at all. While there's no telling what music could have been made in other timelines, I choose to love and appreciate what this one gave us. My heart will always melt a little bit at VK's little yelp at the end of the chorus in "Bromelaid", and I will always love the way certain coincidences in the lyrics made me feel like I haven't been completely disconnected from people writ large.

I will especially continue to love "Crawl", which I think stands as their defining song, and video as well. Those few minutes blended the modern and classic, the drama and the power, like bleeding neon pink onto the hem of our Sunday best black outfit. Like that contrast stitching would be the pop of color reminding us you can't fully hide who you are, The Spider Accomplice helped me to remember how much I wanted to make music as much as talk about it. That's a sad story for another day, though.

VK and Arno will continue on in other guises, which will bring many surprises, and I'm sure I'll have more to say about those as they unfold. For now, we mark the end of an era with a remembrance; we divide time into eras because they mattered, they meant something, and they were important. So if The Spider Accomplice was just an era for all of us, that means the band left their mark.

You can't be too sad about that.