Mentally Murdered

 Here we have Erio of WD40 fame and his son Tiger, who's in this bitchin band called Warning? that will be featured on the next post!!! Be sure to check that, especially if you're in the Bay Area, as they are one of the hottest hardcore bands I've heard out of there since Filth..."you know I wouldn't trip"

I hadn't heard this tune by the indomitable Weedeater before because the original full show had this song cut out of the mix.

Ya ever read the comments on a video on (the) fucking youtube. I'm not the smartest guy in the world, But I'd have to try extremely hard, like constipated pushing, to be that god damn stupid. It's not just stupid, but the ignorance and lack of (musical) sophistication is sickening, and reminds me of how septically sick the human race is. The one advantage of being old (that I've found), is knowing you're fucking shit. Like knowing when to shut the fuck up, listen and do your homework, for example. You have to sift through these comments, like having to fish out something valuable that you dropped in a port-a-pottie. I did find that valuable object and it was in the form of a comment sending me to the above video of the band...soundboard quality fucking upload. I saw them on this tour in Denver. In fact Big Shawn & I drove in the same blizzard and on the same highway that the band did. I remember this fucking dickhead, I wanted to smother this guy, that was in the crowd. He wouldn't shut the fuck up and reminded me of 99.9% of the comments on (the) fucking youtube.

The other day Mr. P was pissed that I cut the ride short because I forgot my smokes and he wouldn't get out of the truck, so I left him to his own devices and came back with a smoke...and we had a chat.

Everything we do is an interpretation of something we experience...this guy's comment on the above video, "0:55 that stolen riff from Repulsion" reminds me of how stupid motherfuckers are that don't understand that. Music is this one continuous circle of experience. Think of the Napalm Death Guys, at this particular juncture of time, as eating a meal of life and regurgitating it into "their" sound. It wasn't stolen it was borrowed...hahah. This is my absolute favorite song and lineup of the band. They have "assiduity"! There were only three albums with this lineup, or should I say ones that were unique to the long history of the band with it's many musicians and incarnations. I don't trip that there wasn't any original

Your aspirations, unable to stretch
Beyond the barriers of what's expected,
As the free thought you were born with
Becomes externally polluted.
Lose sight of your ideals
In their brainwashing institutions,
Predetermine your values
To befit your substandard existence...
Discouraging creativity,
To aim for empty ambitions.
Living up to others expectations.
Takes hold of your assiduity.
Mentally murdered!
Always up to the mark,
Set the wheels in motion,
A fake sense of security
From your invariable position.
Sinking in the crowd,
A face minus expression.
A mouth that echoes words,
Recycled from tradition.
Your only contentness
Is in living a lie.
Mentally murdered!
Do you possess the strength
To re-create your own life?

Admittedly, I haven't listened to a very much of the later stuff from ND, but of that little bit, which isn't grindcore at all, more of a death metal type vibe, this tune nails it. Go figure though, you put Jesse Pintado (RIP) of Terrorizer in the mix and you're bound to get something special.

Played out, wide off the mark,

Mania develops,

Akin to fiction,

More than to a word of fact.

My own worst enemy.

My own worst enemy.

Lifes foul teachery.

My own worst enemy.

Dams of emotion build

A dull and turbid screen,

Cloudlike veils of black

In jungles of hopes oppressed.

So many times,

For no reason.

So many promised punches,

For what reason?

Ceaseless decay,

Parallel obscene and flagrant.

Ceaseless decay,

Restrained my mind coils.

So many times,

For no reason.

So many promised punches,

For what reason?

Ceaseless decay,

Parallel obscene and flagrant.

Ceaseless decay,

Restrained my mind coils.

My mailbox is about 2-3 hundred yards form my house and lately, in an effort to curb my uneasiness, I have been walking the dogs down there and back up the hill. With that, Mr. Pickles and I bid you farewell, but do stay tuned for the next post which will give you hope, as  far as what the younger generation is doing with their music.