What was in my car

NECROMIS--Burnscar (2004)

Necromis is a Minneapolis-based death metal band that has been on and off the scene over the past 13 years... but they are back with a nifty CD to prove that they will be sticking around for a while. (Check out the link to the right for their website/ordering info)

I enjoy death metal, but the scene is plagued with corny lyrics, monotonous growling, boring all-sounds-the-same songwriting, and a whole bunch of Deicide wanna-be's that can't form an original thought or song. Therefore, I love the best of the genre--but 98% of it bores me to death.

Necromis avoids this by changing stuff up... a LOT. They catch a groove, they grind, they ride a bottom-heavy "chunk-ka-kunk" riff only to catch you off guard with a clean, melodic hook. It's as if Necromis hand-picked the absolute best attributes of the entire genre and combined them all into a melting-pot of an album. You can hear hints (but never rip-offs) of Morbid Angel, Opeth, Deicide, Carcass, with just a tad of Slayer just to keep true to the old-school.

There are no throw-aways (there better not be with only 6 songs!) on the album as each song stands out as its own entity. Burnscar offers an aggressive title track, a slow groove of "Filth Of This World," an epic 7+ minute "Unearthed," while "Stand and Die," "Phantom," and "Look At You" stand on their own as well-written and interesting.

Lyrically--well, I never have paid attention to a single lyric out of this genre (probably for my own good)--but Greg Chilton's vocals are tough and aggressive without ever resorting to the cheesy coughing grunts that seems to be the cliche lately. There are welcomed "harmonized" high/low screams here and there to emphasize a phrase while a soft-spoken whisper is sometimes heard to switch it up a bit.

Musically, the skill is top-notch--epecially for a bunch of local boys. The twin guitars of Jason Notebaart and Dan Lerach complement each other nicely. Right when a section gets a bit bottom-heavy, they come up for air with a quick harmonized lead and dive back down. Lerach's few solos are melodic, articulate ideas that never default to the whammy-bar mess that is the death-metal standard. It is nice that Necromis offers the guitar-worshiping listener a few solos, but never enough to become a boring guitar-god showcase. Aaron Davis' bass rides the bottom background, but often rises to the forefront right when you need him to complete a phrase. Tony Olson's drums provide anything the song needs: rapid double-bass, grinding snare, plodding grooves, and even a quick solo found in the title track. Olson plays with precision and skill, but adds originality and creativity to set himself apart from his peers... which could be said for Necromis as a whole.

Rating: ******* outta 8

Defending Wally... ewwww...

I never liked Wally Szczerbiak. Whenever a pass comes his way, he'll either shoot (good) or dribble heads-down into traffic, bouncing the ball off his foot and into his defender's hand (bad). But he won't pass...

Then there's his defense. It's been better as of late, but still--one play is cemented into my memory and I can't shake it: It's the playoffs vs. the Dallas Mavericks. Wolves are down, but making a push. They need one more stop. Maverick ZsuZsu Wang has the ball well beyond the 3-point line. Wally leaves his man, Michael "I-am-so-friggin-clutch-I-can't-miss-a-shot-all-quarter" Finley to double Wang (again... behind the 3-pt. line). Wang makes the pass to the wide-open Finley for a swish 3 pointer. ARRRGGHHH!!! WALLY!!! DON'T LEAVE FINLEY FOR WANG!!!

Plus, his Minneapolis townhouse is infested by Gabberts furniture. Ewww....

Anyway, in case you haven't noticed, the Wolves are in a serious funk right now. They barely squeeked by the Mavericks sans-Nowitzki, they were embarrassed at home by the Sonics, and they lost to the Pacers. Yes, the same Pacers that lost all their star players to the riot suspensions. This funk could possibly be cured if Flip would give (and it pains me to write this) Wally more plays, more minutes, and more shots (ewwwww.....).

Here's my hypothesis:

Wally is a shooter--a great shooter. Problem is, the Wolves also have Spree, Hoiberg, and Hassel, so Flip tends to bench Wally the second he misses a couple shots to see if his other options have a hotter hand. If Flip didn't have such a deep bench, Wally would be given a chance to miss a few more shots to find his spot. As a result of this quick hook, Wally may be shooting with the thought of "I better make this or else I will be benched" instead of purely shooting. Observe how well the team clicked last year when so many players were injured. Flip had no choice but to ride out his shooters.

I suggest that Flip lets Wally shoot... and shoot... and shoot (of course, only when KG is covered). If he misses a few, let him shoot some more.

The Wolves have a deep, deep bench, but it's killing them. Every good basketball team needs to have a well-defined pecking order so players know their roles. Every player needs to know what to expect to play each night, otherwise he'll be playing with one eye on the floor and one eye at the bench--waiting to see if he'll get the hook for a mistake or an airball.

Now, there's the issue of the starting lineup. I think Trenton Hassel is a must-start. His shut-down defense is critical to keep the opponent's go-to guy from getting a hot start. BUT, I also think Wally is a must-start. His presence behind the 3-point line is essential to a good inside-out game with KG. This means that Spree would have to be benched... and I am ALL FOR IT. Spree would be great off the bench, but I know that his ego would be crushed and Flip would never pull him off the starting lineup. Plus, Spree's 6 point games aren't really helping much. Oh well.

Anyhoo, I am tired of my Wolfies and their slump. I watch Troy and Sam shake off an open Wally and throw up a prayer over a double team (due to the lack of confidence in the shooter). I see Flip bench each shooter before they find a rhythm (due to the overly talented options). I see our MVP pass to a wide open shooter only to see the ball rattle off the rim (due to the shooter being cold). I see a shooter pass up a wide open shot (due to knowing that he'll never see the ball again if he misses). Stop the madness now and give Wally his minutes (did I just write that? Ewwww.)

Excuse me now while I bathe.

My friend Crazy Eddie

Crazy Eddie is a huge black man with a huge love for soul, funk, and (sadly) the Green Bay Packers. We never really clicked, but I would love walking past his work station--hearing him bellow along with his tape player. We finally bonded when I mentioned that I was going to the Tower of Power show. The floodgates opened as we built a great relationship talking music, football, music, and more music. He is a great man who lived a great life that fueled an endless supply of stories.... and he'll be missed. Crazy Eddie only has a few days left as he is battling lukemia, but I will think of him whenever I hear a good TOP song. See ya, Eddie.

What was in my car....

SKYNYRD!!!!

Okay, I was born in 1975... so the majority of Skynyrd's band members were already dead by the time I was born. Skynyrd has always been a joke to me ... ya know, yelling, "SKYNYRD!! FREE BIRD!!" at every opportunity (watching a high school choir concert, Christmas carolers, etc.). I figured that since all hardcore Skynyrd fans were half-shirt-wearing-beer-guzzling-mullet-headed-mesh-hat-wearin'-stuck-in-the-seventies-camero-drivin' losers, Skynyrd must be just as bad as their fans. Besides, any band that plays the outdoor festival of Stillwater's Lumberjack Days (Badfinger, Air Supply, America) has to be lame.

After digging the subtle southern-rock behind my recent favorites of Orange Goblin, Moist Boyz, and Blood Duster, I figured I'd find the source and give 'em a listen. The source was Skynyrd, so as dirty as I felt--I had to buy a best-of CD and check it out.

Oops. Skynyrd is awesome. SSSSKKKKYYYYNNNNYYYRRRDDD!!!

I reckon that the Texas boogie is America's equivalent to Germany's polka--you can't help loving the happy, bouncy style. Skynyrd perfected the crossover between the southern boogie and rock 'n' roll (mix in some electric blues for good measure). It's good, fun rock 'n' roll that you just can't help tappin' yer foot ta. The triple-guitar attack provides simplistic yet powerful solos (whhee nee nee wheee nee nee wheee nee nee) that manipulate the pentatonic/blues scales to perfection. No solo is a throw-away. They all provide a melody with meaningful bends and slides.

Skynyrd rocks, but their best songs have all been tarnished by jokes (FREEEBIIRRRD!), beer commercials, or classic rock radio overplay. Behind their image, though, is a wonderfully addictive band that has a hard time leaving my CD player as of late.

Rating: ****** outta 8

KG shows his MVP-ness

In a week where the NBA couldn't look worse, Kevin Garnett showed us all what defines a true NBA warrior.

No, a true NBA warrior isn't a man who throws himself out of the league after being hit by a plastic cup. No, a true NBA warrior isn't the brave man who can stand up to a 130 lb. drunken fan to "protect his team." No, a true NBA warrior isn't a man who asks for time off to nurse a tweeked ankle, a sore hamstring, or to promote a rap album. A true NBA warrior is a man who has the strength to NOT fight after getting an Anthony Peeler forearm smash to the face (see last year's playoffs). A true NBA warrior is a man who fights his coach for one more minute of playing time despite being up 15 points. A true NBA warrior plays as if he has to earn the monster paycheck--that he has to show the crowd that he deserves every cent.

The night after the dreadful Pistons/Pacers riot, KG showed the world what is good about the league. Late in the second quarter against the New Orleans Hornets, Garnett received a hard foul while finishing a fast break. KG fell hard and injured his shoulder. After trying to shoot his two free throws, Garnett had to take himself out of the game and left for the locker room... but he left promising his team to be back if they needed him.

Boy did they ever. Without Garnett, the Timberwolves blew their 20 pt. lead while looking over their shoulders to see if their leader would return from the locker room. KG kept his promise, rescued his team, and posted yet another 20/10/5 game. Granted, the opponent was the winless Hornets... but KG showed yet again that he deserves to be considered the most valuable player.

Minnesota is lucky to have KG... but the NBA needed him more this weekend. Luckily Minnesota fans, the Timberwolves, and the NBA can count on him to deliver each night.

My 2 cents on the whole Pistons/Pacers Riot

If you haven't seen it yet, then walk away from your computer and turn on ESPN. You may have to wait a few seconds before they show it again.

Back already?

Okay... here's my take:

What disturbs me the most is the fact that an idiot fan can afford a $150 lower level seat and I can only afford the $24 nosebleed seats! Usually it is the idiot fan in the cheap seats that ruins the game for me... now I have to deal with idiot fans near the court? How can that drunken asshole make more money than me? The NBA needs to raise ticket prices on the lower levels to price out the riff-raff. If the rich guys in the good seats happen to get drunk and start a riot... at least they are rich enough not to be tempted by the lawsuit lotto.

Seriously, though, Big Ben Wallace is a thug and should be suspended for his shot to Lil' Ron's neck. Lil' Ron Artest is a thug who should be facing criminal charges for punching idiot fan #1 (no matter how wrong it is to throw a beer, it doesn't equate a face drubbing). Idiot fan #1 should be facing criminal charges for public endangerment or whatever you get for throwing stuff on the court. Idiot fans #6 and #7 should be in a holding cell for getting on the court and charging at Lil' Ron. They got punched a few times, so they will probably get a nice fat NBA check in the mail.

If the NBA punishes its players with an example-setting, harsh suspension then it may just save itself. Critics have been whining for a long time about the thug mentality of the NBA... this fuels the fire.

If our law system doesn't allow idiots #6 and #7 to get cash for charging at an NBA player and getting punched for it, then it may just save itself. If they win the law suit lottery, the flood gates will open for all those willing to take a celebrity's punch for a fat check.

If idiot #1 is ever allowed back into an NBA arena... well hopefully it's in a cheap seat well out of throwing distance. Idiot fans have always interpreted their tickets as licenses to shout whatever, drink whatever, and throw whatever. Those are real people on the court, remember. Punish those who forget that.

All in all this is a lesson on restraint. Big Ben should have restrained his frustration of getting blown out by the Pacers and getting the hard foul. Lil' Ron should have restrained his rage when the beer was thrown (never, never, never go to the stands!). Idiot fans should have restrained their intake at beer #6.

One last thing. How am I supposed to take Lil' Ron's street-cred seriously when he runs away and lies down (literally, watch the tape) after Big Ben takes a shot at his neck ... yet he doesn't hesitate to take on a 135 lb drunken fan after getting a plastic cup o' beer thrown at him? C'mon, Lil' Ron, I don't know if I'll be purchasing your rap CD now. I guess I'll settle for the upcoming T-Hud CD instead.

What was in my car...

Today on the way to work I listened to:

Blood Duster (self titled 2004 release)

After having a week's worth of a classic southern rock obsession (Skynyrd, Foghat, Molly Hatchet) I decided to get back to this millennium while still holding on to the pentatonic guitar riffs that have been tickling my fancy as of late.

Gawd, Blood Duster rocks! They somehow combine classic death/grind metal (classic Carcass, Napalm Death) with power rock grooves and hillbilly southern rock. What separates these Aussies from the rest of the death metal bands is the fact that they don't get too serious. Most death bands lately have become a caricature of themselves... yeah whatever--you worship the horned goat and you want me to bathe in blood. Blood Duster keeps it fun by "singing" about silly subjects and inserting wacky samples between their 1-minute songs.

This release is by far the strongest offering from Blood Duster. The production has a better budget, the songs are more focused--yet are varied enough to keep it interesting. "Str8 Outta Northcoat" may have better songs here and there, but "Blood Duster" qua album is definitely the one to buy for newcomers.

******* outta 8

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