Reading: A memoir

Ah, the Reading and Leeds festival. A true staple of the August Bank Holiday. My very first festival experience was way back in 1998 when the Reading Festival didn't have a Leeds bit bolted on. Bro Dude, my sister and I trucked down with our immensley complex tent and set about enjoying a weekend of musical variety.

The highlight of Reading '98 was the Vans Warped Tour. That year saw Bad Religion, Lagwagon and No Fun At All on the same stage which for a 16-year-old MADman was about as exciting as life could get. I spent my hard earned pocket money on a Lagwagon hoody which I wore solidly for the next two years of college and still don to this very day. It's a bit on the grey side and there a large, suspicious burn mark in the front but it's still without doubt my favourite item of clothing.

It was the first time I had gotten well and truly battered with my siblings. Clearly the age restrictions on booze were a little more lax back then as I distinctly emember me and Bro Dude sitting in the middle of the main arena smashing pint after pint of lager in front of Monster Magnet and Rocket from the Crypt. I also treated myself to 20 Silk Cut which I shared with my sister as we sat in front of the tent discussing life, the universe and everything when Bro Dude had drunkenly passed out somewhere. We took that opportunity to imbibe about four litres of Strongbow, resulting in me hanging my head out of the tent and vomitting. The police walked up and asked me if I was okay, I explained it was my first festival, they moved along. They were simple times.

New Order graced the main stage that year and despite my teenage drunken fug I remember being blown away by True Faith, which remains my favourite song of theirs. Peter Hook's short-lived side project Monaco were there that year too so Bro Dude got two slices of his bass hero that weekend.

As a lifelong Prodigy fan watching them destroy the mainstage was pretty bleeding spectacular. I remember little of their set, apart from dancing like a twat in the vain hope that my chubby legs were moving vaguely like Leeroy Thornhill's in the No Good (Start the Dance) video. They weren't. Obviously. And the dancing continued with drum and bass Mercury Music Prize winner Roni Size who played in a tent, and it was loud, and that's all I can remember...

There was also a chap walking around selling hash cigarettes for a pound each and although I didn't partake (I promise, mum) I remember thinking that was a bargain, even then.

So as the crowds descend upon Berkshire and Yorkshire this year, I hope a marvellous time is had by all. The line up isn't setting my groin ablaze but as always with this festival there are some awesome punk and hardcore outfits to be seen.

Still, there's no Lagwagon, so whatever.

M

\m/

Out with the old, in with the old

Happy New Year and all that bollocks, I hope you all had a suitably pleasant festive period filled with merriment, alcohol abuse and occasional inappropriate fumblings.

I must have been good this year, as I received a fantastic array of goodness from Santa Claus's sack...but terrible jokes about a jolly fat man in a red onesy aside, Christmas was a good haul. A highlight was receiving the Ensiferum Victory Songs/Dragonhead double album from my mum and dad who, with a combined age nudging 120, are now receiving emails from Amazon recommending Trigger The Bloodshed and Megadeth. This officially makes my parents awesome.

Bro Dude also excelled himself buy procuring me a pretty much mint vinyl copy of Def Leppard's Hysteria and Dio's The Next In Line. Also in my stocking, however, was an album that can only be described as phenomenal. Not only is the track list amazing but the title and artwork is just...well, see for yourself:

Axe Anthems, vol. 2 is the best album cover I have ever seen. I took this opinion to Twitter and was soon conversing with fellow metalhead Iain (follow him at @Dizzydalek). He couldn't believe that there was a volume 2, being himself in possession of the original:

Whilst the Axe Attack series is clearly as rock as it gets, the pinnacle of heavy metal album covers must surely be this, another of Iain's collection:

A metal robot with metal tits riding a metal horse that's shooting lasers from it's eyes? You'd better believe it. These three albums alone exemplify why just downloading music files from the Internet is boring; a JPEG thumbnail of cover art is hardly comparable to a 144-square inch picture of two men in vests fighting with guitars now, is it?? Iain is also the brains behind Cack Blabbath so head on over there too; tell him MADman sent you.

So with a week down and 51 more to go, I'm pretty excited about this year. Tonnes of good music on the way, both live and recorded, lots of new developments with Metal Harmony, no doubt shit loads of hangovers, and the continuation of my crusade to convince people in my office that metal is better than the shit they listen to. Cannot fucking wait. 2011, bring it on.

Much love,
M
\m/

Coping with addiction

Over the last couple of months I've realised I have an addiction. It began years ago but has been bubbling up for the last few weeks. I know I'm not alone but I don't know who to turn to about my problem.

I'm in love with a dark mistress. My drums.

My kit is old, not particularly pricey, and needs constant tuning. But since I pulled it out of the loft in my parents house and set it up in my basement it's all I can think about. I went to my local music shop to buy a new tuning key and came out with a new set of heads and two new sets of sticks. And the pushers in the shop don't help - "buy nine items, get the tenth free". Okay! I will! Bleeding me dry with their hickory goodness and Mylar-coated wonders.

I log onto eBay and a world of opportunity opens up before me. New cymbal stands, double kick pedals, and most importantly a cow bell stand, all just a couple of clicks away. Needless to say I think I have to check myself into rhythm section rehab before I bankrupt myself on drum equipment that I probably can't even play, let alone actually need.

But who to turn to? My family is no good, as my brother's got a similar problem but with bass guitars. The only option is for me to embrace it. Spend every penny I earn on Zildjian and Sabian. Indulge myself in Remo and Pearl. Wash myself in a sea of Axis and Vic Firth. I simply see no other way.

The struggle continues...

M

\m/

Yo' mamma. Well, my mum, actually.

Alice Cooper: what a legend. He brought us Poison which is without doubt one of the finest mainstream metal songs of all time, his antics with a chicken have put him in the metal history books but most of all, his breakfast show on Planet Rock gets me up and running every single day. You just can't beat a bit of Free's Wishing Well at 6:15am.

Today was special though. Ol' Vincent kicked off with Neil Young, closely followed by Tom Petty, both of whom are up there with my mum's favourite artists. I'm hoping this is a sign, as MADmum is currently in hospital after falling down her stairs and busting her leg. She's got an operation today to get everything pinned backed together.

MADmum gave me, Bro Dude and my sister an epic start to life with her staple diet of Crosby, Stills and Nash, Steely Dan, Neil Young, Tom Petty, The Byrds, Motown and old Ratpack music. Coupled with my dad's love of Dire Straits, The Rolling Stones and the fact he owned a first edition Paranoid vinyl, I've got a lot to be thank them for. So horns up high for me mum; get better soon, you clumsy moo.

On the subject of quite serious shit, I'm doing a fun run (massive oxymoron) for a UK stillborn and neonatal death charity - feel free to find out more and give me money here.

But back to the metal! I have an absolute plethora of new shit to plough through, including the new Stone Sour album Audio Secrecy. I'm hearing good things so far and seeing as Come What(ever) May gave me a priapism, I can't wait to get stuck into it. Then there's The Conscious Sedation by System Divide and Dawn of Ashes' Genocide Chapter which both look promising. I'm also enjoying Aeon's Path of Fire at present; a bit Trigger The Bloodshed-y, very much my sweet spot.

Right, time to fuck off. May your weekends be filled with much merriment, alcoholic pleasures and rough sexual intercourse.

M
\m/

Little drummer boy

I might have mentioned it once or twice before but I love a bit of drumming. My old man bought me a set when I was 14, partly due to the fact that I was a fucking annoyance and it kept me out of the way, but mainly because I was growing up in Norfolk and he was keen to distract me from the temptations of incest and sheep buggery.

My mate and I then spent the next four years ruining the relaxed ambiance of our village, me on the skins, him on the out of tune guitar, with our fucking horrendous covers of Nirvana, Green Day, 3 Colours Red, Feeder, and other timely outfits. Me and Bro Dude also formed Spazmodik Kontraction, a Scandinavian-inspired deathgrind band that covered songs by then-popular girl band Hepburn.

But lo, off I went to university and since then, I've not had space for the kit. Until now...

Me and Hot Chick now live in a place with a slightly Fritzl-esque soundproof basement so preparations are in place for Operation Drum Resurrection. All I need is a crash cymbal stand and a double kick and I'll be touring with Dream Theater before you know it.

The kind people at Metal Blade have been on an album release mission of late which has resulted in some absolute quality finding its way onto my Non-Apple MP4 player. There are two that have really caused penile engorgement on my part; A New Era Of Corruption from Whitechapel and Blekinge from Istapp.

Whitechapel's latest album came out a few weeks ago and it's quite simply devastating (in a good way). This mob are absolute genre leaders in deathcore and the new outing cements this. Enormous riffs, crippling vocals and big name appearances (Chino Moreno, anyone?). It's a truly wonderful thing.

Speaking of which, Istapp are a new band on me but Blekinge is without doubt in my top ten albums of the year so far. Swedish black/folk/death/prog metal? Don't mind if I do. I'd recommend wandering over to their MySpace for a bit of a listen, particularly to I Väntan På Den Absoluta Nollpunkten

Is it wrong that I'm looking at my clock, which is currently sitting at 07:35, and thinking about beers? I know I have a problem, that problem being I don't have enough money to drink as much as I'd like to. But the weekend shall undoubtedly be full of ale and merriment, punctuated by globules of extreme metal and arse-leakingly amusing stupidity so with all this in mind, I'll leave you lot to it.

High 5 mother fuckers

M
\m/

I'm not gay. Much.

I'm an enormous wimp. I'm absolutely terrified of the latest HIM album. I just can't listen to it.

HIM are one of my all-time favourite bands. I've seen them live shit loads of times, I spent about 6 months continuously listening to nothing other than Razorblade Romance and Love Metal, I'm convinced that I'll have The Sacrament played at my funeral and Hot Chick firmly believes I'm fully gay for Ville Valo. But all in the garden is rosy. I dutifully bought Venus Doom on release day in 2007 and was uninspired. It felt over-produced, weak, and didn't have any tunes with the raw passion of Razorblade Kiss or the seminal Buried Alive By Love.

So following on from this mild disappointment, I've been avoiding the latest album, Screamworks: Love In Theory & Practice since it's release as I don't want it to be the album that seals HIM's fate as a band passed their best. The couple of tracks I have heard are good but haven't erected me trouserly. However, as this week saw me celebrating the day of my birth, Bro Dude procured Screamworks... for me and insisted I give it a listen.

I haven't yet. I'm just too scared. After the recent abomination that was Throwdown's Deathless, I'm not sure my delicate psyche can take another blow.

Anyway, my mate Melvin has been preaching the gospel about US duo Cobalt for ages now. The band haven't been on my radar but he swears that Gin is one of the best black metal albums of 2009. It's a bold claim Melv (Behemoth's Evangelion might have a shot at that title) but I shall be digesting it with a critical ear imminently.

To finish on a tangent, well done to everyone in the UK who voted in the general election. It looks as if the bloody Tories are going to get in but nevertheless, if you went out and put your "x" in a box for any political party, good on you.

Right, I'm off to deposit last night's ale excess into David Cameron's pricey loafers.

Snogs,

M
\m/

"Not a day goes by...

...when I don't spare you a thought"

The prophetic lyrics of one Frankie Stubbs, frontman of Sunderland punk legends Leatherface; one of, if not the most important band in my life.

"But MADman, why are you being such a dramatic fucklordassmonkey?" I hear you ask. Well it upon my knee, young child, and your weird uncle will tell you a story...

On my eleventh birthday, my primary school embarked on it's annual coach trip to the Isle of Wight (stick with me, this isn't as boring as it sounds). As a birthday present, Bro Dude had made me a tape. For all the younglings out there, tapes were pieces of plastic that you usually had to rewind with a Bic pen as most...oh, hang on, a Bic pen is an orange plastic...ah, fuck it.

Right, so I get on the coach and I've got my Sony Walkman and my 90-minute TDK. Side one is some album by this band Nirvana called "Nevermind" and on the other side is this album called "Mush" by some mob known as Leatherface.

Side one was ready to go and as soon as the opening chords of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" kicked in, I had a revelation. Kind of like the first time you have a dream about a girl where you, you know, do stuff. Or the first time you smoke a cigarette and vomit out the back of your mate's nan's shed. Until this point I'd been listening to pretty much chart music - my mum kept it real with the Neil Young, Steely Dan, Crosby Stills and Nash vibe but this, for the first time, was loud. My music collection extended to East 17's "Walthamstow" and "Monster Hits Vol. 3" and all of a sudden there was this noise. Rough sounding, angry; I was fucking away. In fact, I distinctly remember not hearing the bus sing "happy birthday" as I was so overawed by the music. Ungrateful little fucker.

So "Nevermind" came to a close. "Fuck me", thought I, "that was pretty good shit". Flipped the tape, and in comes Frankie and the boys. "I Want The Moon" is one of the best openers to an album I've ever heard. You get no intro, you get no warning, it doesn't build up, it comes in at whatever volume the Walkman's on and fucking stays there.

Then the vocals start and your sucked in. They're pure gravel, they're clearly owned by a man who drinks 3 litres of Jack Daniels, smokes 60 Bensons and gargles with flaming tyres every day. And then it happened; "How Lonely" smashed into my ears and on first listen, almost made me cry, which was a bit weird seeing as at this point, I had no experience of punk, metal, grunge, whatever - this was just such a fucking palm-shaggingly good song that I didn't really know what to think.

I listened to "Nevermind" and "Mush", flipping the tape over and over as each album finished, all the way to the Isle of Wight, on every excursion on our three-day visit, and then all the way back to London. Then I listened to it every night in my bedroom, and then I listened to it when me and my parents drove to Cornwall from London, and all the way back. And although "Nevermind" to me has been played to death for the last decade-and-a-half, "Mush" still gets played at least once a week.

Leatherface got me into punk. I loved Nirvana's grunge soundings, and "Territorial Pissings" remains one of the all time teenage headbang classics but Leatherface changed my world. I started getting into some of the old school shit (with help from Bro Dude, of course), plus bands like The Jam and The Police, and then started to find my own way with the Southern Californian punks - NoFX, Lagwagon, Mad Caddies, etc. - which got me into some of the Scandanavian hardcore like Satanic Surfers, which made me appreciate a violent vocal and savage drum sound...see where this is going?

I love Bro Dude for fundamentally changing my entire life with a single tape. I love Leatherface for recording, and to this day, performing the greatest punk tunes I've ever heard. I love the fact that Frankie Stubbs today became my friend on Facebook (cue imminent cringe-worthy geek email of adoration...)

You need Leatherface. Trust me on this one.

I'm off for some razorblades and asprin.

A good morning shuffle

Theoretically, not a "shuffle" as the Creative Zen Vision M is not an iPod. "Random song choice" ain't as catchy though, is it?

Anyway, wandering through the detritus and whoredom of Soho this morning on my way to work and the aforementioned music playing tool presented me with the following in quick succession:

Atreyu - "Lip Gloss and Black"
Sofahead - "Break Up"
Early Grave - "Dead To Me"
Slipknot - "Vermillion (live)"

I'm sure you'll agree, a frankly gargantuan offering for a rainy Tuesday AM.

What do you mean, who are Sofahead? Fuck me. In all honesty, I'd never heard of them either but me and Bro Dude saw them punking it up alongside Watt Tyler and the mighty Leatherface a couple of years back. They're a female-fronted shouty punk mob from Middlesborough who broke up about nine years ago but I tell you what shitheads, they are fucking cool. "Break Up" is a cover of The Doors' "Break On Through" and I strongly recommend you legally download this song if possible. I'd rank it alongside Hi-Standard's "California Dreamin'" in my "Top 10 Awesome Punk Covers Which Make You Want To Push A Granny Over". If you can't find it, holla at this MADman and I'll hook you up.

Early Grave's offering is a grubby hybrid of Dimmu Borgir and Caliban and grinds pretty hard. As these folks are new to me, I shall be investigating further as "Dead To Me" was a pleasant change from either standard death or generic metalcore.

Got to run now as I need a shit.

Missing you already...

Hey now, hey now now...

Sorry people but 'tis not my fault. I've been having major issues with my computer at home which means that this MADman has been unable to update El Bloggo. I would do it at work but alas, I have not a moment to spare...

But do you care, is the question? I'll wager not.

Let me take y'all way back when to April 9th as I can hear you all asking "MADman, how were the Sisters Of Mercy?". The fact that Bro Dude and I started drinking at 16:30 suggested a long night was looming...

After smashing a quick cider with my work cartel in an oh-so-civilised way, our only real option was to hit the Crobar for a series of finest Newcastle Browns. I shan't bore you with details. Actually, that's kinda exactly what I'm going to do, and have been doing for over a year. Sorry, I'm all out of sorts today...

Right, so now we're a few beers down and on the tube. A couple of emo kids were standing opposite us talking about seeing "them for the first time in ages". I asked them if they too were venturing to the Town of Kentish for the long awaited Sisters gig. Unsurprisingly, no. Awkward silence for the remainder of the journey (wooooo! Journey! So excited about Download).

20 minutes before the gig = 1 x Brown, 1 x Jaeger, 8 x piss breaks in the Bull & Gate

And we're in. And on the Guinness. By now, Bro Dude and I were effectively steaming so although I think there was a support band, it's a bit hazy (although the haze may have been due to the 9,000 litres of dry ice. God bless the goths. Or not, as the case may be).

If I may be blunt - not James Blunt, he's a fuck - although I have the entire back catalogue of SOM music thanks to Bro Dude's oft-over-zealous music piracy, I don't know a huge amount of their songs without having the track list in front of me. This being said, I did recognise more tunes than expected.

Bro Dude and I were struggling in a big way. I was one tin of black stuff away from vomiting on the theatrically tree dancing goth to my left, Bro Dude's eyes were rolling back like he'd suffered a major head trauma so we had one option left; hit the pit.

I had no laces in my shoes so was expecting to lose them a la Rise Against ("The Pits", Tuesday March 10th) but much to my surprise, it didn't happen. The Sisters ripped through a synth-tastic array of moody anthems but for me, it came to life during Dominion and This Corrosion. The pit was an odd mix of massive hairy sweatfucks, old skool punks and vested trilby-wearers (guilty). Despite Bro Dude's drunken descent to the floor on a couple of occasions, the pit was pretty calm. Mind you, it's pretty tough to get a circle pit going to a 1980s synth beat. But praise Jesus, did we try...

The Sisters Of Mercy played an absolute blinder. They were exceptionally tight but I think a major part of this comes from the fact that their music is not complicated. There aren't hundreds of layers to work in, intricate solos and extensive vocal harmonies. Instead, it's a few blokes from Leeds moaning their way through a couple of hours of stage time. Which is exactly what we, and seemingly the rest of the crowd, were after. Okay, Andrew Eldridge said not one word to the crowd but as a goth icon, can you really expect him to? He's bald, a bit tubby, doesn't interact with the crowd and sings in a pretty monotone voice. But fuck me, doesn't he do it well.

The pits

A week that kicked off with Metallica on the Monday ended with Rise Against on the Friday. Let's just take a wee minute to appreciate how fucking intense a week of music that is!

Finished?

Good.

I'd been out since 13:30 pounding beers due to a well-timed leaving do at work so by the time I met Bro Dude, I was on my way to being well oiled. We hit the Crobar, London's premier heavy metal dive, for a couple of cheeky Newcastle Browns and a couple of rollies, and offski.

I've never been to Camden Roundhouse but my first opinion was "My, how awfully civilised", as the legions of punk rock reprobates poured in. We met with Hot Chick beforehand, and got into the venue for about 20:00. Just in time for Flobots. Oh great; fashionably political rap.

Hell no. I went in completely ambivalent expecting little and was hugely impressed. The blend of hand-plucked violin, smooth rap, rhythmic drums and bass groove completely got me and you could tell that, although 90% of the crowd probably had no idea who these guys were, the opinions were high. Flobots got a fierce reception when they finished with recent single "Handlebars" and left the stage; they thoroughly deserved it.

But then the band we were they to see kicked us all in the fucking face. I can't even remember which song came first (perhaps due to the frankly hilarious amount of booze I had consumed by this point) but I left Bro Dude and Hot Chick, and hit the pit. And shit my ballsack, was it a pit. The majority of songs in the early part of the set came from my favourite "Sufferer And The Witness" album and despite my trying to leave the pit, songs like "Injection" and "Bricks" kept me going shitfuck pony buggery crazy. "Drones" caused a ridiculous frenzy (that might have been the first one, actually...) and as they kicked in to "Collapse" from their newest album "Appeal To Reason" I went over the top. A successful surf to the front was combined with the realisation that I had lost both of my shoes. And t-shirt.

There is something haunting about Tim McIlrath's vocals; the guy just commands that you listen to the lyrics as well as the harsh yet melodic tones. I think only Angela Gossow from Arch Enemy sounds so similar live as on record. Although Tim didn't interact a huge amount with the crowd, Rise Against did exactly what they came to do. The passion of the politics, the ferocity of the crowd and the stealing of the shoes all combined to make an epic experience. We left feeling like we'd been to a seminar on how to be a fucking hardcore punk rock band.

Going through Rise Against's back catalogue, it's difficult to find any stinkers. I mean, some of the acoustic protest songs are a bit simple, but so what? They're a punk band, retard. They play with a fire that singes your bollocks. The fans are insane. The pits are violent but compassionate and the band really give a fuck. I mean, really give a fuck.

Political bands that matter are hard to find today; Rise Against may be a decade old but with their constant relevance, there's another few years in them yet. I fuckin' hope.

Eat my beer

So the plan was, me and Bro Dude rock up to Brixton for about 16:00, meet with Axeman and Skinsman from Nobody's Hero and pound beers for a few hours, then wander down to the Academy for Alter Bridge. A simple plan, perfectly executed.

After 5 or 6 of Download's finest beer, Tuborg, we pounded a quick can in the queue and we're in. Obviously the first stop was the bar as it had been at least 7 minutes since out last beverage. A quick stop at the merch stand for the traditional tour t-shirt, a few pisses and off we went to the front.

We caught the end of Logan but didn't see enough for me to pass judgement. Hot Leg, bastard child of former Darkness frontman Justin Hawkins, was another matter. Don't get me wrong, I'm open to any new music and Skinsman was looking forward to some old Darkness tunes. However, what we were greeted with was a wannabe 80's glam metal performance by a group of frankly terrible try-hards. Alter Bridge are not a huge band in this country but their fans are loyal - everyone was buzzing for them but Hot Leg just killed it. They were, frankly, gash.

I'm not a heckler by nature. If I don't approve, I don't watch. Or I keep schtum. But this was a whole new level of cack. The crowd were baying for blood so me and the chaps thought it only right that we take the moral high ground. By annihilating the stage with half-empty pints. Bro Dude was surprised at the velocity of a washback-laden Guinness as it narrowly missed the "guitarist". The cheers for us beat the cheers for Hot Leg. Hot Leg? Hot Shit more like.

Enough of this. Alter Bridge came on with "Come To Life" as they did at Download and the crowd caught fire. Bro Dude hit the toilet and the bar, the rest of us muscled our way down to the front. I was expecting a bit of moshing but not a full on fucking shit fight. As they plowed through the "Blackbird" album, I couldn't hold back any longer so got my carcass up onto the heads and surfed my way to the front. One thing I'll say for the security, they helped me down and just pushed me out. No bollocking, no nothing. However, when "Ties That Bind" kicked in and I went over again, I did get a wee warning not to do it again or I'd be expelled. Buzzkills.

As "Blackbird" entered it's sixth minute, me and the lads were arms in air, sweating, I was shirtless and scratched to fuck, and some random bloke put his arm round my waist and told me he loved me. "Metallingus" kicked us into overdrive and by the end of the set, 2,000 people realised they'd been beating the shit out of their mates for an hour and had screamed their throats raw (as one song finished, I removed the inexplicable headlock I had on Skinsman...)

We met up with Bro Dude outside who was buzzing, plus Axeman's dad who'd been at the bar chugging lager with roadies for the set, and off we rode into the Brixton sunset. Well done lads; it was a fucking belter.

Alter Bridge do a headline tour once a year. Here's hoping that Myles Kennedy's rumoured presence on the forthcoming Led Zep tour doesn't stop this happening again in 2009.