2005 MYSPACE MONSTER OF THE YEAR

Daveaux Lynam

The distinction of being the first annual MySpace Monster of the Year goes to my new personal hero, Daveaux Lynam: drummer, vocalist and “international sex symbol” for the Birmingham, Alabama glitter-pop-metal trio LYNMAN.

To see why an individual would be singled out for such a distinguished accolade generally reserved for bands you need only visit his MySpace blog. Skip the ones about his Lake Tahoe ski trip where he's wearing enough eyeliner to sustain a casino resort revue. Oh, so metal.

Go straight to his blogs titled: “This might be the biggest monster EVER! So easy!” or “We meet another Monster on Myspace!” Observe the distinct similarities. Notice that he does not identify these hilarious word-for-word plagiarisms as anything but his own keen insight. Take into account that on one single blog he gets upwards of 30 comments, compared to the paltry handful of praise that is garnered on this very page. Then kick me in the ass for not copyrighting this garbage.

For Daveaux Lynam (heretofore referred to as The Little Bitch), imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. He looks like Ricki Rocket. His band sounds like Trixter. He sucks cock like my grandmother. And he STOLE MY SHIT! You want irony? Here’s some irony, friend. His profile page’s personal quote is: “Often imitated, never duplicated!”

Son of a fuck.

Nothing gets my nipples all a-twitter like people stumbling across this site and digging it. As much as I love laughing at people, I really love people laughing with me. But when some syphilitic, salon-styled poseur comes along and straight bites my dope rhymes, well, I can’t take too kindly to that. On the street that’ll get your ass shot.

The Little Bitch didn’t even have the croutons to friend request me. Maybe he thought he could get away with it if I never saw his site. Think again, Little Bitch.

UPDATE: After a few days and some heated exchange where this walking queef factory claims that he posted bulletins giving me credit (that no one saw) and sent a mass e-mail to all his MySpace friends explaining that this was someone else's work (which is patently impossible), I requested that he remove my blogs and he complied. But he went down swinging. His comments in blue, mine in red...

I had no idea you were such a miserable person and had such little going for you that you had days of free time to round up buddies to chew me out before even getting a response from me.

I didn't so much "round up buddies" as simply post a bulletin. What people did, many of them not really knowing anything about me or this blog, was of their own volition and out of a general distaste for artistic theft.

Your insecurity about all of this is disgusting.

Protecting my material and my own opinions are my right. It has nothing to do with being insecure. That I make fun of these bands in the first place, now that's insecure.

You act like these blogs are the Beatle's masters.

Actually, I think they're a lot funnier. Don't forget: just like Elvis and Vanilla Ice, when they started out The Beatles appropriated black music to make themselves rich. I'm sure Daveaux can identify with this time-tested business plan.

I truly shouldn't be suprised that you're this much of a shithead. I'm sure you'll go real far in this business with your personality (flaw).

Yes, I am this much of a shithead. Though, I'm not sure what "business" he's referring to as I write this nonesense for free and make it available to readers at no cost. Maybe THAT'S why I won't go far in this business.

I'll be a gent and let my worthy adversary have the last word...

You need to go sling a tampon in that bloody snatch of yours and go write some more hits.

MONSTERS OF MYSPACE - VOL IV : The Reckoning

THE SERVANT

LISTED INFLUENCES: “The father ,Son and the Holy Ghost”

UNLISTED INFLUENCES: Kirk Cameron’s The Way of the Master program. The Fat Boys. Bumper stickers depicting Calvin from Calvin & Hobbes in the midst of solemn prayer.

MEET THE MONSTERS: Blending the hip-hop penchant of intentionally poor grammar with the misguided condescension of evangelical Christianity is no easy chore. Modesto, CA’s The Servant does just that as he rap-rap-rappity-raps about the Lord, attempting to spread His message with the literacy comprehension of a mildly retarded pre-schooler recently kicked in the head by a horse.

One would think that two such seemingly similar forms of expression (proselytizing and ripping the mic old school) would go together like crosses and nails, but more often than not this kind of over-simplification of belief and faith matched with a contemporary delivery tends to crumble under the weight of its own grandiose bravado. Kinda like Creed, but with dope beats.

SONG ANALYSIS: His heart is pure, his intentions well-meaning, but The Servant’s verbal prowess only scrambles the holy message. I double-dog-dare you to make sense of lines like: “just listen while I explain I do what I do because god let me obtain / a gift used for fame / but instead flipped it showed who reigns / higher than NASA planes.” I think he’s referring to space shuttles. But, c’mon, have you ever tried to rhyme ‘shuttle’ with anything?

I guess ‘cuddle’ could work. Or ‘rebuttal.’ Or ‘scuttle.’ Or ‘befuddle.’

Come to think of it, he totally could’ve gone with ‘shuttle.’

COMING TO YOUR TOWN: yeah…uh, no.

BLOG ABOUT: The aforementioned lyrics. What? You thought I actually transcribed that shit? Cut and Paste, my friends. Now, if ya don’t mind, I gotta go shout unto God with a voice of Triumph. Muthahfuckuhz!!!




DAVID ALLAN COE

LISTED INFLUENCES: N/A

UNLISTED INFLUENCES: chaw-induced cancer of the jaw. syphilitic delirium. stompin’ queers, commies and coloreds.

MEET THE MONSTERS: Sounding like a poor man’s Hank Williams Jr and looking like the walking zombie corpse of Dimebag Darrell, David Allen Coe gives you an idea of what it would be like if Oklahoma State Fair workers stormed the Miller Genuine Draft side stage and, in a moment of pure unbridled South Shall Rise Again anarchy, let their moonshine-soaked sensibilities get the best of them. It’s a raucous good time where common dental hygiene and taboos regarding sex with family members quickly fall to the wayside.

SONG ANALYSIS: If you’re a trucker with no ties to friends nor family and you’re planning a cross-country rampage wherein you’ll rape, disembowel and then re-rape unsuspecting Denny’s waitresses; David Allen Coe has done you a solid and recorded your personal soundtrack for such an excursion. And if that ain’t country, I’ll kiss your ass.

COMING TO YOUR TOWN: David Allan Coe plays Biketoberfest, October, 23 2005 at the Iron Horse Saloon , Ormand Beach, FL.

BLOG ABOUT: N/A




FORTRESS

LISTED INFLUENCES: “KRAFTWERK, MOGWAI, DAVE MUSTAINE”

UNLISTED INFLUENCES: the divorce. the stepparent. secretly having a crush on the cheerleader in their Algebra II class.

MEET THE MONSTERS: Three pretentious little toads from the middle-of-nowhere join forces to create some of the most boring and bothersome “experimental” music since the respective advents of guitar effects pedals and antidepressant pharmaceuticals. FORTRESS mistakes aimless rebellion for originality and creativity, executing a simple three-part formula: drag-ass chord changes that go nowhere, monotone vocals smothered and covered in echo and reverb to distract the listener from their complete lack of tone or melody, and (best-of-all) an hilariously high level of superiority. They proudly exclaim: “Make no mistake, we're not here to integrate into the ‘scene.’ We hate your scene. We hate YOU.” Such proclamations might hold weight if the product of their songwriting resembled something other than self-indulgent stoner muck. But as it stands this type of righteous yelping only comes off as acne-scarred sour grapes. Sorry no one asked you to the Sadie Hawkins dance, guys. Better luck with Prom.

SONG ANALYSIS: Sounds like someone got some studio software for their Sweet 16 and just discovered Eno. Way to keep your thumb on the pulse, felchers.

COMING TO YOUR TOWN: …to get upset with the audience for standing twenty feet from the stage with their arms crossed.

BLOG ABOUT: “Joan Baez had a goat voice.” Whoa, that’s ballsy. These guys are trying to start some sort of rap battle beef shit. I can’t wait till they rip Gordon Lightfoot a new asshole.


DASHBOARD CONFESSIONALS

Gimme a goddamn break. Kids today. I mean, really.




5.9

LISTED INFLUENCES: “Stevie Ray Vaughan, Metallica, KISS”

UNLISTED INFLUENCES: Marlboro Reds. the final death wail of a wounded moose. denim shorts

MEET THE MONSTERS: Jeremy, Rick and Jeff may look like deranged auto mechanics hell-bent on getting ripped on Jager and bangin’ some sluts, and they may very well be. But for our purposes they combine forces to become 5.9, describing themselves as an “Effingham, IL based acoustic band that covers songs ranging from Country, Classic Rock, Hair Rock, to Metal.” With such a varied and eclectic repertoire there is no doubt that this is a band to watch. You’ll also want to watch them because if you avert your eyes for more than three seconds these dudes look likely to jack your stereo and pawn it for rags and gasoline.

SONG ANALYSIS: “Release Me” comes right off the Sensitive Acoustic Rock Ballad assembly line: mid-tempo acoustic-electric guitars EQ’d to sound like plastic-stringed toy instruments and single-note baritone melody evocative of a tuba being played underwater. If this wasn’t appealing enough, the song often derails as the multiple plastic-stringed toy guitars go in and out of synch to no discernable, steady tempo.

COMING TO YOUR TOWN: …if your town just happens to be Effingham, IL.

BLOG ABOUT: N/A

MONSTERS OF MYSPACE - VOL III Monsters in Paradise

AJA KIM

LISTED INFLUENCES:
“All the artists who lay their hearts, souls, minds and lives on the line to follow their Muse.”

UNLISTED INFLUENCES:
animal print spandex. Matchbox Twenty. abs you could carve an ice sculpture with.

MEET THE MONSTERS:
Not only does Aja have an illustrious solo career where she cavorts and wails with the likes of E-Street Band sax master Clarence Clemons, Latin Jazz legend Pete Escovedobut and Argentinean rockers Wilma Palma, Ms. Kim also fronts the “World’s Only Female Tribute To Iron Maiden,” The Iron Maidens. She’s got chops and street cred, and has logged more world tour miles than Ugly Kid Joe. Sadly, these sorts of industry successes don’t always translate into interesting, original music. It’s all flash and fury signifying elevator rock mediocrity. Kinda like Rob Thomas with slightly bigger balls. Ok, much bigger balls.

SONG ANALYSIS:
Clarence Clemons should know better. Ms. Kim’s duet with Clemons, “Get It On,” is saxophone-seasoned, pro studio-polished blues schlock, sounding like a throw-away from the “Beverly Hills Cop II” soundtrack. But something tells me his intentions are driven by something other than writing and recording interesting music, like, putting Ms. Kim on the receiving end of his man-horn. Better known for his goofy-ass sax playing than his vocal styling, Clemons wheezes and chokes through this hideous perversion of a song. He actually utters the lyric, “I wanna stick to you like white on rice.” This euphemism could be interpreted in a multitude of ways, none of which are especially pleasing to the imagination. This type of cornball posturing becomes not-so-surprising when you consider that this is a guy who’s been wearing shiny vests with no shirt underneath for about 20 years now. On second thought, maybe he doesn’t know better.

COMING TO YOUR TOWN:
Aja Kim performs with former Tower of Power guitarist Bruce Conte at The Orleans Hotel in Las Vegas, NV on October, 9 2005

BLOG ABOUT:
Aja’s blogs reveal that she’s quite nice. She seems genuinely appreciative of the support of her fans and fellow artists, humbly grateful for her talent and ability, and overall she appears to be a pleasant, grounded individual. Thanks for ruining it for me, bitch.



BRIAN JONESTOWN MASSACRE

LISTED INFLUENCES:
None. They’re wholly original and one-of-a-kind and if you don’t think so I’m going to kick you in the eye, motherfucker!

UNLISTED INFLUENCES:
each and every psychedelic guitar rock act that came out of the UK between 1964 and 1978. dangling sea shell necklaces. a homeless person’s rambling, psychotic monologue.

MEET THE MONSTERS:
San Francisco’s Haight-Ashbury district is many things: a longtime spawning ground for countless filthy hippie jam bands, a petri dish for lazy, drug-induced love-in philosophies, an open air gallery for crappy folk art that looks like kindling covered in oil-based paints. And in the case of Brian Jonestown Massacre, Haight-Ashbury is also concrete proof that a functioning circle of hell exists and operates here on planet earth. Only in such a soulless, bottomless pit of untalented hackery and stunted artistry could such a god awful band even begin to congeal and take form. And by “band” I obviously mean Anton Newcombe and whatever burn-out punishment gluttons he can convince to “play music” with him. And by “play music” I obviously mean ducking drunken punches while mastering the complexity of a power chord.

SONG ANALYSIS:
If you love single key funeral processions, fake Brit accents, and completely incompetent sitar playing that evokes the aural simulation of a root canal then, well, I probably hate you and you probably hate me. But you will surely jizz all over your stupid self for “God is my Girlfriend,” a curry-and-crumpets flavored jam that would’ve been fresh and innovative and maybe even listenable, say, forty years ago. This particular piece of sonic ear-fucking is off BJM’s new “mini-album” We Are The Radio. Mini-album? Please explain to me how a “mini-album” is not an E.P. Oh, yes. It’s more pretentious.

But if it’s groundbreaking lyrical styles you’re looking for, try “This is Why You Love Me.” Here’s a sampling: “I heard you say / He’s gone away / Well, everything’s okay / Hey!” Next to Anton Newcombe, Robert Frost is a punk-ass bitch.

COMING TO YOUR TOWN:
Brian Jonestown Massacre plays at Dante’s in Portland, OR on Sept. 8 [insert your own Inferno joke here]

BLOG ABOUT:
Actually, their blogs are relatively informative. So that’s one thing they do right. One thing.

AXE OF VENGEANCE

LISTED INFLUENCES:
(old) Aerosmith, Cannibal Corpse, (early) Genesis

UNLISTED INFLUENCES:
alienated societal disenchantment. morbid violent imagery. Cookie Monster.

MEET THE MONSTERS:
Axe of Vengeance hails from Harlingen, Texas, located in the southern-most tip of the Lone Star state. Apparently, the city is far enough from modern civilization that they have not yet received word that death metal is, well, dead. Unless you’re a penitentiary inmate, white supremacist or serial murderer, there is absolutely no reason for you to be listening to this type of outdated musical scare tactic. If you’re a young person looking to frighten the living crap out of your parents and teachers while defining your narrow-minded, cro-magnon individuality by being part of a larger group of narrow-minded, cro-magnons, everybody knows it’s much more threatening and unnerving to listen to hip hop. And you’ll probably get laid more often. Probably. Can I get a “what-what?”

Despite playing a style of music that is as contemporary and remarkable as smooth jazz, Axe of Vengeance does have one thing going for them: their enormous bass player. Regardless of how good-god-fucking-awful your band may be, if your bass player is built like a garbage scow you’ve at least got my eye’s attention, if not my ear.

SONG ANALYSIS:
Skip the uploaded song on their player and scroll down to the video for “Divine Mercy,” taped live at the questionably titled Club Rendezvous. A more appropriate moniker might be: Club Unwashed-Beer-Mug-Full-Of-Hepatitis. The video is a fury of frizzy hair and shaky cam. Three or four Mexicans engage in an ancient Incan slam dancing ritual. Drop D power chords chug. Drums clatter. Vocals churn at earthquake-like registers. And Jabba the Bassist works the neck of his guitar like it was the last Subway sandwich in the galaxy.

COMING TO YOUR TOWN:
…to spend their landscaping paychecks on Budweiser.

BLOG ABOUT:
N/A



the FLIR

LISTED INFLUENCES:
Cocteau Twins, New Order, the Cure

UNLISTED INFLUENCES:
Ann Rice novels. opiates spiked with tryptophan and soaked in nighttime cough syrup. paint drying.


MEET THE MONSTERS:
Before you label them as yellow-bellied pussies, take note that the FLIR is not, I repeat, “not afraid to blend electronic, experimental, alternative, and rock elements into unique songs.” They are, however, afraid of live drummers. The FLIR’s line-up consists of two guitarists, a dude playing “keyboards” (i.e. a laptop and one-finger/one-note synth swells) and the quintessential hot chick singer in a mini skirt and knee-high boots. At some point in its development, the FLIR must’ve sat down and said, “Ya know, a live drummer is only going to make the music more enjoyable and rhythmic, more interesting and engaging for the listener. How are we going to lull audiences into a near-vegetative state with a real live drummer keeping time?” Hence, we are left with melodies that are as interesting and memorable as a momentary gust of wind and electro-percussion that sounds like staccato R2D2 farts.

SONG ANALYSIS:
“Fanger” is an insipid, directionless exercise in inept meandering. It attempts to build into a …into a… Man, I can barely keep my eyelids from… Wha, huh? So spleepy. I’m so sleep… So. Sleepy…zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

COMING TO YOUR TOWN:
…to euthanize the terminally ill.

BLOG ABOUT:
This user's profile has been temporarily disabled for special maintenance. The profile will be available again shortly. Sorry for the inconvenience.

Let’s hope this “special maintenance” involves a cup of black coffee.





LUX

LISTED INFLUENCES:
Evanescence, Goo Goo Dolls, Jars of Clay

UNLISTED INFLUENCES:
PowerBars. fantasizing that their groupies are actually dudes. No Fear tank tops.

MEET THE MONSTERS:
First I must extend miles and miles of thanks to Joseph from Glendale, CA for introducing me to this band. To return the favor I mailed him a dozen breakable glass vials filled with a highly concentrated, extremely rare and deadly strain of Chlamydia. Thanks, Joseph.

According to their 3,000 word “abridged” biography, LUX was formed “all the way back [in] the early winter of 2000.” This is one of my favorite myspace band bio tendencies: trying to give your lame, ass-awful band a sense of longevity and accomplishment by making relatively recent events sound as though they occurred eons and ages ago. How about something like this, dickos: All the way back in the early winter of 2000, during the turn of the century, Lux formed, invented music, built instruments out of tree bark and rocks, and began playing songs for pterodactyls, cavemen and the mummies of Egypt. Then they oiled each other up and created the art of high intensity bodybuilding. Which brings me to my next point…

These fuckers are huge. Huh-you-juh. Any one of them makes Glen Danzig look like Michael Stipe’s gayer, thinner cousin. They’re meticulously chiseled and groomed to a degree that no average heterosexual male would have the time, desire or energy for. More horse than human, the LUX boys add to their beastly visage by donning some pretty sinister expressions. Looking at any of their group photos gives you the feeling that you’re a mere four seconds away from being violently gang raped by a rogue Chippendale’s troupe. The only one with half some sense appears to be the drummer, TJ Stiles (alias: Black Star), who covers the lower portion of his face with a bandito bandana. TJ’s either shamefully cognizant of how utterly ridiculous five shirtless, greased up, muscular dudes must look when they’re all huddled around one another on a beach or he was the unfortunate victim of a horrible grease fire that left him grotesquely scarred from nostrils to chin. But if you could see his chin I’d bet dollars to Ding Dongs that it would be preciously dimpled.

SONG ANALYSIS:
For a band that lists over 250 bands as influences, from Yngwie Malmsteen to 50 Cent, they’re not terribly innovative. I guess when you distill every form of popular music ever created, you get Emo. Who knew? The intro to “Believe” spends half a minute swelling into the biggest rawk explosion I’ve heard this side of the Bullet Boys. You want gang vocals? Fuck you! Lux takes this tired formula and injects a gazillion CCs of ham, cheese and Levitra into it, using simulated, synchronized arena audience gang vocals to accompany every other lyric in the song. It makes you feel like you’re in the midst of a capacity crowd at Nassau Coliseum, cigarette lighter held high, chanting, “I’m a cowboy / On a steel horse I ride!” It’s a sensation that also bears more than just a strikingly eerie resemblance to being amongst thousands of brainwashed Hitler Youth, extending a stiff arm skyward and chanting “Zieg hiel!!!” The lyrics have equally hellish undertones: “Open up your eyes and realize.” Yeah, realize that weightlifting androids have learned how to play musical instruments and record albums and no one seems to mind very much. Especially the geniuses at Sony, who’ve apparently signed these dog-felchers to one of their imprint labels.

COMING TO YOUR TOWN:
…to spot you.

BLOG ABOUT:
“Thank you to everyone for the constant support and interest in us. We love you all.”
...for a better blogging experience, check out LUX's bare-chested brothers on Cherry's Shirtless Dipshit Of The Day blog.

MONSTERS OF MYSPACE - VOL II

TILA TEQUILA

LISTED INFLUENCES:
Kentucky Fried Chicken

UNLISTED INFLUENCES:
Valtrex. Fredrick’s of Hollywood. Penicillin.

MEET THE MONSTERS:
one part titty dancer, one part Asian mail-order bride & one part upscale salon employee, TILA TEQUILA hails from California (surprise!) & sings nonsense pop songs with breathy expulsions and shrill exclamations. Backed by some “studio magic” (translation: 2 or 3 dudes that are low-paid assistant engineers at some shitty recording studio & think that playing & producing Tila’s record is going to earn them a coveted place in frilly drawers), MS. TEQUILA’s tunes are all wardrobe and no guts. It’s about as steamy & sultry as an igloo village & as sexy as a ham sandwich. And I’m not using that as a slang term for a vagina, I mean an actual ham sandwich.

SONG ANALYSIS:
“Go To Mars” is a horrible abomination of a song, even by dance music standards. It has fake 808 beats. It has fake percussive record skritch-scratching. It has one of those disco hooks where she sings “ooh, ooh” during the chorus. All that’s missing are the laser beam sounds. I think the lyrics are about butt-fucking, but that may be wishful thinking. Either that or the song is so goddam awful that it merely leaves you with the sensation of a recent ass-pounding.

COMING TO YOUR TOWN:
in pixel form: “I am a video game character in a game called Street Racing Syndicate for PS2, XBOX, Gamecube and more!”

BLOG ABOUT:
“Anyway....once again.....THAT IS NOT ME! THAT IS A FAKE PORN WITH PEOPLE USING MY NAME!!!!!!!”



13 FEARS (THIRTEEN FEARS)

LISTED INFLUENCES:
Rage Against The Machine. Alkaline Trio. NoFX.

UNLISTED INFLUENCES:
cargo shorts. developing a potentially lethal butane huffing addiction. saving up Euros for a drum key.

MEET THE MONSTERS:
In the same way that The Beatles appropriated & molested R&B music, England’s 13 FEARS (THIRTEEN FEARS) follows the fine limey tradition of taking a relatively-American-based music genre & sapping it of all feeling & substance. The Streets manhandles hip-hop in the same way, as do The Darkness and their tea & crumpet-stained interpretations of the late 80’s Hollywood metal age.

Daringly, 13 FEARS (THIRTEEN FEARS) have combined early 90’s grunge and Grateful Dead-like jam-ad nausea to produce a sound that is all together unlistenable. The resulting cacophony sounds like every band I played drums for in high school, sans some kid hamming up a Cobain/Vedder impersonation & with fewer changes in the arrangements.

The band’s photo page has about six different versions of their band logo, a close-up of someone playing bass & a picture of the drummer, who appears to be about 9 years old.

To avoid confusion, the band has parenthetically spelled out the numerical part of their name for those of us who have trouble reading when numbers and letters are placed too close together.

SONG ANALYSIS:
Take your pick. Choosing from such gems as “Funeral of Freedom,” “Gig Song,” and “Death From Here,” you really can’t wrong. It’s all the same stew of power chords and garage reverb. Wanna know what it sounds like to have your head sloooowly pulled out of a bucket full of mud, puss & vomit over the course of several months? Check out 13 Fears.

COMING TO YOUR TOWN:
via XBOX Online tournaments.

BLOG ABOUT:
“All songs have no lyrics yet”



KELLY OSBOURNE

LISTED INFLUENCES:
None.

UNLISTED INFLUENCES:
Not getting a real job. Riding coattails of family name. The only pill habit in the universe that doesn’t result in drastic weight loss.

MEET THE MONSTERS:
Ozzy’s baby girl tries another shtick on for size with her latest album, Sleeping In The Nothing. Having abandoned the power-pop-rock sound of her last album (& fuck me for even knowing that) in favor of more “mature” and “deeper” material, Osbourne flip-slops through this new release between dreary electro-kraut-dance & new wave-by-numbers. Apparently, VH1 ain’t the only one who loves the 80s. The press pics look waaaay Photoshopped, taking advantage of Adobe’s latest photo editing feature: Chunky Chick Crop & Slim.

Bathe yourself in Kelly’s 7th grade vocabulary. Absorb the angst & pain of growing up rich & becoming famous because you happened to be the genetic result of two people who are more talented and interesting than you are (though not by much). Experience a total absence of any discernable vocal range. Witness the lyrical majesty of such stanzas as: “Uh-Oh / Do you really wanna kno-ow?”

No. No, I do not.

SONG ANALYSIS:
The chorus on “Uh-Oh” is driven by that oh-so-popular disco rock hi-hat (recent offenders would include Electric 6, Franz Ferdinand, The National & Arcade Fire, where the drummer breaks from a 4/4 measure on the verses, keeping time on the choruses between the up & down beats). Keyboards? Check. Standard pop arrangement that will not threaten anyone’s musical tastes? Check. Endless loads of cash & industry support to sink into this vanity project ‘cause your dad is the Prince of All Darkness? Check & Check.

COMING TO YOUR TOWN:
whether you like it or not.

BLOG ABOUT:
N/A



TORMENT THE VIEW

LISTED INFLUENCES:
None.

UNLISTED INFLUENCES:
oversized hoodies. Creed. backwards baseball caps.

MEET THE MONSTERS:
Syracuse, NY’s scene has some collective erectile dysfunction issues. How do I know that? It’s predominantly made up of hardcore bands, that’s how. Despite taking a slower, even more annoying route in their songwriting, TORMENT THE VIEW posses the same indications of poor sexual performance: predictable key changes, overwrought, quasi-operatic vocals, and lame lyrical laments.

SONG ANALYSIS:
“It’s Over” drips and droops like a poorly maintained prostate infection. Singer and “noted solo artist” AJ Cole meows all over the track, attempting some weird hindi chant when he holds out a note for too long. For good measure they throw in some lame-o effect processing, hip-hoppy sample squelching & a two-second-long flamenco guitar thing near the end. Toss in a polka break & these guys are bordering on geniuses. Geniuses of doo-doo, that is.

COMING TO YOUR TOWN:
TORMENT THE VIEW play @ Peabody’s Down Under in Cleveland, OH on July 9.

BLOG ABOUT:
“Many thanks for all the love we have gotten for "It's Over" We really hope we can top that with our next single.”

Try recording a 17 hour farting contest. That should by far surpass the success of “It’s Over.”



BROOMFILLER

LISTED INFLUENCES:
Foo Fighters. Helmet. Bush.

UNLISTED INFLUENCES:
Fuck, they actually listed Bush as an influence. I’m out.

MEET THE MONSTERS:
I was hoping to get through this installment of MoM without having to dog on Canada, then along comes BROOMFILLER.

Bands like this are a tragic, all too common occurrence. They can play alright. They can even put together a pretty good hook every so often. But instead of exploring what they could do if they tried to be innovative and original with their talents, these guys are simply content aping lame, tired bands and writing stupid lyrics about getting dumped.

SONG ANALYSIS:
“Tomorrow’s just a day away,” indeed. With lyrics ripped from some fat dude’s live journal page (“stupid cunt / make me feel all dumb.”), “You Were Right” pummels through about two minutes of radio-friendly, fist-pump rock before breaking into a one-note build that’s supposed to constitute some sort of bridge. Ooh, that’s unexpected. Where will they go with this? Oh, back into the first part. Touché, BROOMFILLER.

COMING TO YOUR TOWN:
on your little sister’s iPod.

BLOG ABOUT:
“Yes, that's right...2 brand new BROOMFILLER Avatars for: AIM, AOL, YAHOO & MSN Messenger are now available in the 'Fan Stuff' section on our website”

FANtastic!


CODED

LISTED INFLUENCES:
None.

UNLISTED INFLUENCES:
bandanas. 4 Non-Blondes. global injustices.

MEET THE MONSTERS:
Three white dudes bring the aggression of metal and one black chick brings the aggression of 400 years of oppression and segregation. And ten years ago they may have been relevant. Now that we’re firmly planted in the 21st Century, such a hybrid of commonplace styles is itself pretty fucking commonplace.

SONG ANALYSIS:
Pretty much every tune sounds like Ani Difranco doing soundcheck for Helmet. But if you’re a big fan of choppy one-note guitar riffs, angry black women, and drummers who keep time on the china/splash cymbal, you should check out CODED. Then you should have a vasectomy. Twice.

COMING TO YOUR TOWN:
Streaming webcast on CODED radio. Friday nights from 11pm-2am est. I’d give you the link, but I figure I’ve done enough damage by simply making you aware of this band’s existence.

BLOG ABOUT:
“Coded would like to thank everyone for their continued support and friendship! It has been a great year for Coded, and it is all owed to the band's friends and family.”

In other words, despite being in their mid-30s the members of CODED still work at coffee and record shops & live in their parents’ basements.


ILLICIT BOBBEE

LISTED INFLUENCES:
None.

UNLISTED INFLUENCES:
cornrow extensions. Sean Paul. date rape drugs.

MEET THE MONSTERS:
This one’s pretty tough. There’s not a lot of info on ILLICIT BOBBEE’s page & even a google search doesn’t bring up anything on him. He has one song, entitled “Song 1.” Tom is his only friend. And he has one picture posted. This page is either under construction or Bobbee was smart enough to quit while he was ahead, inadvertently adding an air of mystery to an otherwise lackluster spiel.

SONG ANALYSIS:
The aforementioned “Song 1” is a slickly produced electro-dancehall ditty underscored by ILLICIT BOBBEE’s marble-mouth vocals. Usually it’s the accent or slang terms that make Jamaican-flavored pop so excruciatingly painful, but in this case it’s the performer’s complete lack of diction that brings on the stomach cramps. I’d imagine he’s talking about going into a club, being hounded by woman, and then taking a half dozen of them back to his hotel room to make those “In The VIP” pornos I was so fond of last year. But the way he garbles all his words, he could just be reading aloud from a Denny’s menu & I’d be none the wiser.

COMING TO YOUR TOWN:
and then immediately facing statutory rape charges.

BLOG ABOUT:
N/A

MONSTERS OF MYSPACE

SHAWN CROSBY BAND

LISTED INFLUENCES:
Morrissey. Mother Love Bone. Sinatra.

UNLISTED INFLUENCES:
Moisturizer. Fraternity tattoos. Aftershave and lots of it.

MEET THE MONSTERS:
Beware of singer/songwriters wearing Abercrombie & Finch t-shirts. Pittsburgh’s SHAWN CROSBY (of THE SHAWN CROSBY BAND) entertains visitors to his myspace photo page with enthusiastic descriptions of the clothes he’s wearing (“Shirt by B. Repulic jeans n belt by Express!!!!!” “Shirt: B.Republic Jeans:1969 by GAP Damn Right!”) and not one, but TWO shirtless pics. And look at the one where he cradles his guitar so tenderly, as if he’s not exactly sure how to play it.


SONG ANALYSIS:
A song with a title such as “She Thinks I’m Gay” would seem to write itself. Obviously not. Crosby attempts to sing in swaggers over poorly mixed guitars & laptop percussion created by someone with a deaf carnival worker’s knowledge of drum programming. The song’s lyrics deal with a girl who thinks that our buddy Shawn Crosby is a homo-gay because he won’t talk to her. We are to believe that this is an inaccurate way to assess Crosby’s sexual orientation. Of course, a better indication of gayness would be his unquenchable thirst for cock.

BLOG ABOUT:
The new album he’s recording which, “rights and red tape permitting,” will include a Morrissey cover. I can’t not wait.

COMING TO YOUR TOWN:
“7 Months ago Shawn entered and won an Acoustic singer/songwriter competition. The response from the crowd was so positive that many live engagements would follow.”
Note to Shawn: playing Dave Matthews Band covers at your niece’s Sweet Sixteen party doesn’t exactly qualify as “many live engagements."

*Mr. Crosby responds: Greetings Cocksmoker, I must say I was honored to be the first to be reviewed by you blog and while I found it to be a bit funny, at the same time I must request that if you live in the Pittsburgh or surrounding area(s) that we can meet for about 3 minutes. IN this three minutes...this abercrombie wearing singer will beat your polesmokin ass. But if you dont reside in the area, you lucked out. I must admit the band below me.....that review made me laugh as well. I just decided I dont want to beat your ass afterall....it was kinda funny...ok changed my mind I will beat your A&F hatin' ass. NO wait..im working on this new leaf thing...I decided I wont beat your polesmokin ass...just know that I could. Have a blessed day.

ARMY OF FRESHMAN

LISTED INFLUENCES:
You know you’re in for a treat when a band lists itself as its sole influence. Oh, and they “sound like” themselves, too. Let’s hope they’re the only ones.

UNLISTED INFLUENCES:
Ric Ocasek’s farts. Enuff-Z-Nuff. Asbestos disguised as cotton candy.

MEET THE MONSTERS:
The Ventura, California sextet ARMY OF FRESHMAN joyfully harmonize and (attempt to) happily thrash through cookie-cutter pop punk anthems about young life and young love. Vocalist Chris Jay lets his sinuses do the singing, shifting from chalkboard-grating, punky whine on the verses to chorus harmonies that were ripped out of a page from the Gunnar & Matthew Nelson songbook. The music is standard issue Cali Emo-Pop, everything over-produced and radio-ready.

If anything, what (barely) sets these weasels apart from their West Coast neighbors & other O.C. soundtrack contributors is the addition of an extra set of synth keys playing happy-dippy Rentals-esque three-note leads over the four-chord riff-rock progressions. Hey, ARMY OF FRESHMAN! Matt Sharp called and he wants his lame-ass sound back. And he wants to know if you can hook up his fat, one-trick pony ass with some blow and underage girls.

SONG ANALYSIS:
The song “Get ‘Em Up” seems to be a call to soldiers overseas who get to “go home” now that “the war is over.” Maybe they’re talking about the Cola Wars of the 1980s ‘cause my friend J.J. just got called up to serve. Again. I wonder if you could write an up-tempo rocker about that? I’m sure these cock-fondlers could: “I’m here to tell you / You’re goin’ back to that hellish sandpit / to fight for out-dated, counterproductive religious & political ideologies / that only serve to suppress the minds and economic potential of the poor and under-educated / while creating a constant, oppressive cycle of wealth & independent power / incestuously intertwined with global trade practices and mass marketing of pop culture.” Though, AOF could probably make it rhyme better.

My worst fears about young Americans in combat are realized as the lyrics reference “visions of Metal Gear.” Apparently, years of button-mashing on your PS2 console can effectively prepare you to violently liberate a foreign nation.

The closing stanza, drenched in reverb, informs the listener that “the Unknown soldier finally scores,” which if you think about it, could be some twisted allusion to patriotic necrophilia.

BLOG ABOUT:
The band’s “studio logs” playfully reveal the coma-inducing events behind their latest recording sessions. You stayed in a hotel!? You picked someone up from the airport?! You ate dinner!? Wow! Keep me updated. Asshats.

COMING TO YOUR TOWN:
ARMY OF FRESHMAN play the Novato Teen Center in Novato, CA on June 11.

FOUR LETTER LIE

LISTED INFLUENCES:
Skateboard & clothing companies, aptly enough as they sound like the kind of music you’d hear being played at Hot Topic. FOUR LETTER LIE also “sounds like” themselves. This is a horrible trend in myspace music & the most obvious thing these guys could do to sound better is to NOT sound like themselves. What about The Stooges? That was a good band. Try sounding like them. It worked for The Strokes.

UNLISTED INFLUENCES:
chronic acne. biker chain wallets. being molested by an uncle.

MEET THE MONSTERS:
This Minneapolis five piece write dirges & ditties about longing and pain and sorrow and all that other emotionally-stunting garbage that handsome white dudes write about in order to “connect” with an audience of fat girls & RPG aficionados. FOUR LETTER LIE subscribes to the popular trend of having sing-songy vocals share space with death metal howls. They also have a lifetime subscription to “QUIET VERSE/LOUD CHORUS” magazine. Groundbreaking, guys.

SONG ANALYSIS:
An obvious & forced deviation from their usual migraine-inflicting style, “Stay For A Lifetime” is a plodding, acoustic ballad with all the force and impact of a half-eaten ice cream cone falling into the ocean. Singer Brian Nagan mope-croons like a castrated Rob Thomas over melancholy chords that emote like Marcel Marceau in a heroin coma. About 4 minutes into the song, the instruments drop out as the group harmonizes in a way that invokes images of Mr. Big’s “To Be With You” video. Revolutionary.

BLOG ABOUT:
Some contest that might get them on the Warped Tour. Some contest that might get them on the Taste of Chaos Tour(???). Personally, my vote is for FOUR LETTER LIE to headline the Angry Metal Cliché Pussy Festival.

COMING TO YOUR TOWN:
FOUR LETTER LIE play a TOUR KICK OFF BENEFIT SHOW @ THE QUEST in Minneapolis, MN on June 13.

R.E.M.

LISTED INFLUENCES:
NONE

UNLISTED INLFUENCES:
mortgages. health care costs. Bentley payments.

MEET THE MONSTERS:
I was a huge R.E.M. fan in high school, almost ashamedly so. But pretty much every record after and including Monster was a letdown for me. I’m not as much of an “artistic purist” as those who designate the group’s Warner Bros releases as the beginning of their downfall. And I actually was optimistic when they released Up, as it seemed to be going in a new direction. Well, follow-ups to Up have continued in this direction & apparently this direction leads listeners down a very long, drab hallway & into a big, drab room where you curl up on a featureless, drab cot and pass away in your sleep, only to defecate on yourself once your family shows up to ID your remains. It sounds like every song is phoned in, slowed down & then covered in a serum of pop mediocrity.

SONG ANALYSIS:
The band uses the myspace platform to stream their latest album, a big puffy poot of a record entitled Around The Sun. Even Q-Tip couldn’t pull this one out of the shitter. But then again his solo records ain’t so hot, either.

BLOG ABOUT:
Message From Michael: “we start the [vote for change]tour tonight[philly!bruce springsteen!brighteyes!go go go john kerry!]”

well, that was a grand success, wasn’t it?

COMING TO YOUR TOWN:
At Six Flags and local fairs involving pie and hot dog eating contests.

CROWNED KING

LISTED INFLUENCES:
None.

UNLISTED INFLUENCES:
L.A. Guns. Toni & Guy. Spacehog.

MEET THE MONSTERS:
I love Canadians. They know comedy. And whether they’re aware of it or not, they know funny music too: Bryan Adams. The Crashtest Dummies. Loverboy. Alanis Morissette. Shania Twain. Corey Hart. Sum41. Avril Lavigne. Sloan. B.T.O. And on & on… In the fine tradition of jizzing out formulaic slop to be devoured by fat, artless Americans, North Vancouver’s CROWNED KING come forward to unleash more mayonnaise rock on the masses. The addition of a trombone (!?) to the West Hollywood gutter glam sound (circa 1987) only serves to upset you, regardless of intent. What they want to sound like Rocket From The Crypt comes off sounding like a fatal bus accident involving a high school cover band doing a cover of Cake doing a cover of “I Will Survive” & Strutter: Dayton, Ohio’s #1 KISS tribute act.


SONG ANALYSIS:
“Turn It Up We’re Going Down” cold-cocks you in the choad with thin slappy-ass kick drum EQ & guitars drenched in distortion, so rock critics & bloggers with their own college radio show can use phrases like “drenched in distortion” in place of the more obvious description: “these phags can’t play worth a fuck.”

BLOG ABOUT:
“Jordan and Chonger have decided to move on and persue some other opportunity's that have come their way. We wish them all the best, and we wanted to let you know that this wasn't an easy decision for them or for us, but it was the best decision for everyone. WE WILL RIDE ON.”

…in addition, we had to part ways with Jee-Jee, Colonel Wiz-Bang, Boxcar, Smoolty & Lil’ Frankie No-Thumbs. But, WE WILL RIDE EACH OTHER ON!

COMING TO YOUR TOWN:
CROWNED KING plays the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater Lot in Kansas City, KS on June 22.

ATOMIC BLONDE

LISTED INFLUENCES:
Well, let’s see. Danielle likes Megadeth, Kendra likes Slipknot, Amber likes Sabbath & Dacia likes Perfect Circle. Let’s rock, girls!

UNLISTED INFLUENCES:
Jem & The Holograms. Tampons that don’t let you down at the beach. That lame chick band that does those cell phone & contact lens commercials.

MEET THE MONSTERS:
ATOMIC BLONDE rock outta Nashville. And by “rock,” I mean “amplify their queefs with loud guitars and drums that are free of any discernable, interesting dynamic.” And I’m not being sexist. I’m being anatomically metaphorical. If it were a bunch of dudes playing these same songs in the same manner, I’d still think it would sound like vaginal whistling. Conversely, ladies that can & do distribute the rawk accordingly hold sets of metaphoric music balls larger than the members of any given eighteen-piece ska band. Joan Jett’s got balls. Bjork has balls. You tell me Janis Joplin wasn’t swingin’ a huge pair. So what’s ATOMIC BLONDE’s excuse?

SONG ANALYSIS:
“Come closer and do not be afraid.” Yeah, fuck that. “I Am” is the most hideous song I’d heard since “Nightmare,” the ATOMIC BLONDE song that proceeded it. Poky and pointless, “I Am” sodomizes your ear with riffage & lyrics that the Scorpions would be proud of & a vocal hook at the end of the chorus that sputters out to eventual conclusion like the flat punchline of a failed comedy routine. However, they get points for penning the line, “open up and allow my love to flow” & giving me something to go giggle about.

BLOG ABOUT:
“We've been getting LOTS of requests for autographed pictures, so for anyone interested please send cash, money order, or cashier's check for $6 to…” Yeah, fuck you.

COMING TO YOUR TOWN:
ATOMIC BLONDE play the Southern Girls Rock and Roll Camp in NashVegas, TN on Aug 5th.

SENSE OF BEING

LISTED INFLUENCES:
Sevendust. Nirvana. Alice In Chains.

UNLISTED INFLUENCES:
Death. Extra Large Pizzas. Death.

MEET THE MONSTERS:
Finally, a band with some balls. Sure, these balls are filled with cum dust and droop like soggy matzos, but they’re balls nonetheless. Lots of screaming, artificial harmonics and double bass drumming usher in any given SENSE OF BEING song, commanding the level of attention they so desperately need and never received as children.

SONG ANALYSIS:
AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!!!

BLOG ABOUT:
S.O.B. is now accepting Street Team applicants.

COMING TO YOUR TOWN:
“With very diverse songs and lyrics Sense Of Being continues to play as many shows as possible inside and outside of South Florida.”

MM1

LISTED INFLUENCES:
(JIMMI AND EDDIE ARE A GIVEN) BUT MAINLY…SRV, JOE SATRIANI, ZAPPA, SLAYER, etc. etc.

UNLISTED INFLUENCES:
Tesla Unplugged. Zig-Zags. Santana’s fecal leavings.


MEET THE MONSTERS:
MM1 (AKA Mike McDole) attempts the original and you gotta give him credit for…wait. One minute. What’s that? Oh, you don’t get credit for that? Sorry, Mikey.

MM1 songs are short instrumental arrangements that range in style from flamenco noodling to speed metal, uh, noodling. There is much noodling going on here. McDole makes the guys in Phish seem restrained and subtle when it comes to incessant guitar jerking.

SONG ANALYSIS:
“situations” is a somewhat mellow departure from MM1’s other myspace offerings, that is to say he doesn’t start dropping the noodle till about two and a half minutes into it. The song is an interesting, awe-inspiring exploration of the endless sonic possibilities supplied by a two-chord progression & retardo-matic drum machine programming and, huh? What? Oh. Again, my mistake. I was thinking of something else. This song sucks.

BLOG ABOUT:
RIP DIMEBAG

COMING TO YOUR TOWN:
As soon as they open a Greyhound station in his town.

CHASOM

LISTED INFLUENCES:
None.

UNLISTED INLFUENCES:
that stripper that they’re convinced has a crush on them. child support payments. malt liquor.

MEET THE MONSTERS:
CHASOM is a white rap-rock group from Huntington Beach, CA. They’re profile pic is a close-up of a woman cupping her large, surgically-enhanced bosoms. This doesn’t surprise you in the least, does it?

SONG ANALYSIS:
“Middle Class Rapper” is heavy and hip-hoppy, but about as soulful as 311 covering “How Bizarre!” The lyrics are spit with the precision of a drooling contest between head trauma victims and the in-your-face, rock-the-mic presentation of it all successfully recreates the sensation of being infinitely deadlocked in traffic, surrounded by jet engines. If I ever ran into any of these guys on the street, I’d admonish them for removing their house arrest ankle bracelet monitors and immediately contact the local police’s Sex Crimes Unit.

BLOG ABOUT:
“Pimp out your webpage with PimpWebPage”

Thanks. I’ll do that.

COMING TO YOUR TOWN:
CHASOM plays Gallaghers in Hunington Beach, CA. on June 28. (We can only hope & pray that the *actual* Gallagher will be attending this event.)