Mixed Tapes and Melancholy Memories

The other night, I was sitting with my computer at a cafe on the first day of my new self-imposed writing regimen. I had my portable cassette player with me with an old mixed tape to help inspire me. I just haven't yet made the transition over to MP3s and Ipods. For now, my CDs and tapes serve me just fine. There's something else tying me to my tapes and CDs now too: the person who made most of them for me committed suicide last year.

Chris was one of my oldest friends. He was also my first boyfriend and the person who introduced me to Metal music, which remains a real part of my life and identity. I still have the two tapes he made to woo me and introduce me to "real" metal rather than the posers like Motley Crue and Ratt that I was used to listening to. Hard and vicious Bay Area thrash, bands with names like Exodus, Possessed, Desecration, Death Angel. It was rough. It was loud. It was even scary. I was hooked.

We managed to stay friends after we stopped dating in high school. He was always a strong influence in my life and for many years, he was one of my closest friends, and I was one of the very few people close to him. But in the last several years, his reclusive, depressive tendencies became more extreme and he was barely a presence in my life. When we did see each other, it was never reliable, always brief, and always marked by conversation somehow relating to music, our common thread after all these years.

Chris reveled in sitting around making various themed mix tapes or "remastering" lackluster albums with poor song arrangement. In years before CDs, Chris made me countless tapes. It was our way of staying in contact, of sharing that bond of music. First in high school and then in college and beyond, Chris always provided a soundtrack to my life.

The tape I'd dug out of the box to fuel my writing that night was a compilation of Megadeth's best songs from their first three albums (pre-rehab, that is). Labeled "Pissed Off—and Arrogant" it gave me chuckle, reminding me how Chris could effortlessly skewer the self-seriousness of Metal with an offhand sarcastic comment and how his ability to make me laugh was one of the things I treasured in our friendship. After writing with the music as pure background for some time, a song queued up that made me pause. "In My Darkest Hour" is off their third album, a song from the perspective of a guy whose been jilted by a bitch of a girlfriend and is deciding to take his own life.

"In My Darkest Hour" was probably my Most Played Song when I was homesick and lonely during my first year away at college. Dave Mustaine's sneering vocal style full of pain and venom paired with guitar work both heavy and haunting had perfectly captured the kind of aimless despair I felt. That first year away from all I was familiar with presented me with many new and painful emotional states.

My correspondence with Chris had helped me through these hard times. A gifted writer, his letters were always a treat. They offered humor and also wisdom. (He was a cynical observer of human nature, a quality I lacked.) And they were usually accompanied by a tape reflecting his latest musical obsession—an escape hatch for exorcising my frustrations and feelings of alienation. (There's a reason Metal is the music of the disenfranchised, the trench-coat wearing grudge-bearers of the world.) As I listened to the tape in the cafe, I vividly recalled one night, sitting behind one of the deserted classroom buildings on the edge of the woods not far from my dorm, listening to this song over and over as I rode out waves of misery resulting of intense roommate drama or the still-sharp pangs of homesickness.

In my hour of need HA!
You're not there
And though I reached out for you
Wouldn't lend a hand.

I hadn't had heard this song since I learned of Chris's death late last year. The accusatory lyrics leaped out at me, making me fumble in my haste to stop the tape. I couldn't handle hearing this song—not now, not in a public space. I knew it would bring me to tears.

Even though this song had once been my theme song, I had never seriously considered suicide. Never even knew anyone who'd tried it—no people in school, not even anyone who meant anything to me in the celebrity world. (This was a few years before Kurt Cobain's violent end.) I never reached those depths of despair—wasn't even close. Yeah, I was depressed, but I was a social person by nature and well-connected with my family and friends. I dealt with it in unhealthy and potentially self-destructive ways, but I never isolated. Never felt like there was no hope, no escape from the seemingly endless pain. Mine was a garden-variety sadness, lessened or alleviated by kind words or a fun day. Or a letter and a mix tape sent from my best friend.

Through the darkest hour
Grace did not shine on me
It feels so cold
No one cares for me

It's standard operating procedure for the family and friends of a suicide victim to be wracked by guilt. I was no exception. I'd berated myself for not reaching out to Chris, while at the same time, I knew that short of dramatic intervention style activity, there was nothing I could have done. And even if I'd known that it was necessary, it would have been next to impossible. He had so effectively isolated himself in his last years that no one who had once been close to him could truly gauge the depths of his depression except by this isolation. He had no phone, no email, and I didn't even know where he lived. Interactions were on his terms and further hampered by his graveyard shift hours.

I had developed a "tough love" attitude after he flaked out on pans to meet up with me a few times. He'd completely stood me up, which was unlike the reliable Chris I'd always known. I took it all in stride when he disappeared from my life for weeks—or months. In hindsight, the irresponsibility should have been a warning sign of how trapped in his own misery he'd become. But we didn't realize it until it was too late. He hadn't reached out to anyone, didn't give anyone real chances to read the signs. If he had, we would have done anything to help.

Time has a way of taking time
Loneliness is not only felt by fools
Alone I call to ease the pain
Yearning to be held by you
Alone so alone, I'm lost
Consumed by the pain

"In My Darkest Hour" is a song directed to a lover, not the friends and family. I thought back on the relationship that had crushed his spirit several years back, apparently driving him over the edge. Heartbreak can be brutal, hard enough to recover from under any circumstances. It's even harder when you are have trouble with general social interaction and are prone to depression. At first he'd still stayed in intermittent contact, using the relatively new internet technology with email and IM, well-suited to his anxiety in social situations. But eventually he dropped his email accounts, and even eventually closed his PO Box, leaving people with no way of contacting him other than dropping into his work at the all-night grocery during his graveyard shift hours or calling the store at that time. I'd given him my phone number several times. He always lost it.

I walk, I walk alone
Into the promised land
There's a better place for me
But it's far, far away...

After I found out that Chris had died, I entered into depression from grief and loss. It had been a tough year for me and this pushed me into a black corner that I'd never experienced before. Though I wasn't surprised to find out that he'd taken his life, it was still a terrible feeling of loss, even though I had effectively lost his friendship when he withdrew from life years ago. At one point when I was feeling intensely sad and a thought crossed my mind: Chris probably felt this way or worse so often that it's really amazing he lived as long as he did. Especially within the isolation tank he created.

After his death, I read through all the letters I'd kept from him, the ones he'd written when I was away in college that had helped me through other hard, sad times. In almost every letter there was evidence of his difficulty navigating through daily life and his tendency to isolate. But they also showed how much more connected to people he was back then, despite the challenges of his psychic make up. He was involved in community college (even though he was doing poorly), working on the school paper, developing crushes on girls and even trying to pursue them sometimes. I never sensed any desperation from him. Chris always seemed completely in control of his situation, under no illusions, and through it all, always kept his unique, though very dark, sense of humor.

But I also remembered how many years later he confessed to me that those had been bleak times for him. He told me that the night we went and saw Suicidal Tendencies together, was, all irony aside, a show that literally saved his life. I had been really upset that he hadn't reached out to me and disappointed in myself that I hadn't been able to divine that my best friend was close to taking his life. I didn't even know that he had been using speed heavily at that time. Was I that naive, or was he that good at hiding things from me? Evidently his old demons came and took over his life this second time, his dangerous self-medication with alcohol and amphetamines to dull his pain finally overwhelming him.

You can be burdened by holding on to physical objects from the past. Clutter can control, can make you feel even more trapped. Chris's living space had always been a chaotic mess, a teenage trait which he never grew out of, or perhaps signified his slavery to his own internal chaos. But while I make a concerted effort to keep my limited living space relatively tidy, I think I will have to find a new way to accommodate the packing box of cassette tapes that I had often considered trashing. My history with Chris is there, not just in his handwriting on the labels, some painstakingly designed, others hastily scrawled out. But more importantly in the music, the memories conjured up by so many of those bands, or even sometimes by the physical tape itself.

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The Stooges, The Warfield, San Francisco, April 21, 2007
Category: Music

I'll admit it. I was a total Stooges poser going into this show. Sure, I knew Iggy as an iconic rock n' roll figure who was known as the Godfather of Punk. (Did that mean he left severed horse heads in the beds of those who crossed him?) And I knew the song "I Wanna Be Your Dog" since Slayer has covered it on their album of punk tribute tunes. But other than that, I didn't know jack about him and the band. But I also knew that this was my chance to see a true rock legend and that even seemingly indestructible rockers don't last forever.

I saw him on the second night of two sold out shows and got there early with M. to try and secure an ideal spot before the crowd became too overwhelming. The opening band the previous night had been a local band, Sistas in the Pit, and they were billed for this night too. But I'd done some online recon about them before the show and unless they had gone through some rapid and sever lineup change, this was not the same band. I asked a staffer and he confirmed that the Sistas had to be replaced last minute due to a death in the family of one, and this other local act, Dolorata, had been pulled in. They played a mixture of melodic and heavy rock and had a statuesque violinist who ripped into passionate and haunting melodic solos. I particularly liked how this worked with their heavier songs, and the way they built up into a swelling crescendo of sound reminded me of early TOOL in some ways. It's rare that people respond positively and with interest to an unknown band playing under such a prestigious headliner.

It was Iggy's birthday—staff were passing out "Happy Birthday Iggy" buttons to the crowd his birthday. Maybe Iggy had a full night of birthday plans ahead of him because The Stooges came on fairly early the night and—but they came on strong. He must be of the same genetic stock as other well-preserved rockers like Mick Jagger as he is a crazy man on the stage. And in good shape for a sixty-ear old dude since he could still pull off his trademark skintight pegged jeans and shirtless torso. He appears pretty much the same, just with far more weathered skin. From the start of the show until the end of the second encore, he was one of the most energetic and memorable performers I'd seen in my many years of shows. He never stopped writhing and prancing, bashing into the amps, entwining himself with the cords and chucking the mic stand around. He didn't flash the audience and display his notorious appendage, but he was sporting some major plumber's crack a lot of the time. Even if he superglued on his jeans, they'd experience slippage with all of his frantic stage antics.

Once they played "I Wanna Be Your Dog" (which they played second), all their material was new to me, but other stand out songs that I could remember (in no particular order) were "My Idea of Fun," "Real Good Time," "1970" and going back in time then with "1969. "During the song "No Fun" (Being alone) he invited people on the floor to get onstage and I was incredulous when sure enough, over 50 people hoisted themselves up to share the stage with the band for the song. When you're used to seeing security do everything in their power to keep people OFF the stage, this reversal was one of the coolest things I've seen at a live show. Other memorable departures from standard show operating procedure included the crowd singing "Happy Birthday" to Iggy (complete with balloon drop) and when he had the house keep the lights on for the song "Trollin'" making it easier to scam on thy neighbor.

He did two encores and one of the last songs of the night was appropriately enough "I'm Fried"—and I can imagine that was no exaggeration for his condition after a nonstop energetic performance. We should consider ourselves lucky if we have a fraction of Iggy's energy if we make six decades on this planet.

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The Haunted, Dark Tranquility 4/12/2007
Category: Music

The Haunted, Dark Tranquility, Into Eternity, Scar Symmetry
Slim's April 12, 2007

It was a sold out show at Slim's that night and things were apparently running like a well-oiled Metal machine because when I arrived a mere hour after the show started, the second band, Into Eternity, was just announcing their last song. Truth be told, I wasn't planning to see both of the openers. (No offense to them, it's just a long time to stand around when you're not sure if you're going to be into the bands.) But I'd intended to check out at least some of Into Eternity in the interest of representin' the night for the purpose this review. My assessment of them from one song I heard while navigating the sea of Metalheads to get to the bar was that they were virtuoso power metal with one of those singers that sounds like his nuts are being clamped in a vise, a la Hammerfall. Not my cup of tea, so I was not sorry that I missed them. I don't mind some artfully applied vocal displays from frontmen—hell, Judas Priest and Iron Maiden are among my favorites—but certain singers in this vein really set my teeth on edge. And the singer's operatic yodeling inspired many show-goers around me to try their hand at hitting the high notes after their set, so I got an earful anyway.

I hadn't listened to Dark Tranquility much over the last several years. They were never my favorites from the Gothenburg thrash explosion—a little too gloomy-goth with their keyboards and vocals. I was concerned this might be a dreary set when they played some 80s dark modern rock like Depeche Mode or The Cure before going on stage. But they came out and put on an energetic and rocking performance that won me over. The band members had a lot of energy and presence with one guitarist Martin whipping his waist-length dreadlocks all over the place and the bassist Michael, who had focused all his hair growing energy into one long braided strand swinging from his chin in contrast to his Moby-like shaved skull. And their frontman, Mikael, (I don't think you can be in DT unless your name starts with the 13th letter of the alphabet!) reminded me of a rocker version of Robert Plant with his tight shirt unbuttoned to show some amulet on his chest and his wavy hair and posturing. After their first song, a rousing number, Mikael asked the crowd if they were familiar with that tune and when there was a cheer from the crowd, he cheerfully called them out as "pirating bastards!" But he was more amused than annoyed. If I'm able to get into the band without being familiar with any of their songs, that's a good sign and that was the case with these guys. Their style of melodic thrash intermingled with pretty keyboard harmonies might not be what I'd choose to throw on to listen to at home but they played a good and entertaining show.

The band I was really there to see was The Haunted, this being their first headlining tour in the US. Their aggressive riffing reminiscent of early Slayer and other early thrash is the kind of Metal that gets my blood roiling and my head banging. Surprisingly, many people weren't of the same mindset and the place emptied out a bit after Dark Tranquility. Their loss was my gain and it was easier to find a place to watch the band unobstructed by the tall mofos that magically sprout up just when you find a good viewing spot. Admittedly, I hadn't been following The Haunted religiously these last few years and they'd put out three albums since One Kill Wonder, the last one I'd bought back in 2003. They commanded to room and whipped up a frenzied pit of those who had been gathering energy waiting for the main event.

This was the first time I'd seen them live with their original singer, Peter Dolving, who rejoined the band during those albums where I'd lost track of them. He was the antithesis of the pretty boy frontman for Dark Tranquility, with fiery and furious delivery and appearance reminiscent of Phil Anselmo when he was still an inspirational force. I liked what I heard in the newer songs, though they were markedly slower in pace, which became more evident when they whipped out songs from the first album like "In Vein" and "Hate Song." The frenetic energy from the early material is what embodies the spirit of The Haunted for me. I wish they had played more than just the handful of old tunes, but they're a mature band with a full catalog to draw from now. When their set drew to a close they dimmed the lights while they recharged themselves and the crowd cheered for more. (I dug this novel "onstage encore" approach.) They wrapped things up with their equivalent of "Angel of Death," the brutal "Bury Your Dead," which compelled me to surge forward to the pit's edge to draw from its final burst of crazed energy and shove and be shoved as the music dictated.

As they turned the lights up and the crowd began to disperse, a guy smiled and said to me "San Francisco—we always get the best shows." I nodded in agreement and took a moment to savor my fortune to still live here. Even if our Bay Area scene isn't as vibrant as it once was, we still draw bands from all over the world. It makes paying the rent here more worthwhile.

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Be a Goddamn Hero!
Category: Music

I go to see lots of live music. I'm lucky to live in a city that offers an amazing variety of music every day of the week. That said, while I'm always game to go see a band that someone has assured me is great or that 'm likely to enjoy, I'm usually expending my energy to see bands that I KNOW will rock the house. This weekend I am very much looking forward to a performance by one of my very favorite local bands, The Greatest Band of All Time, ARNOCORPS. Here's an interview I conducted with them not so very long ago. (Okay, it was probably over a year ago--time flies!)

I first discovered the music and experience of ArnoCorps two years ago at the first "World's Deadliest Bands" event held annually at the Red Devil Lounge in San Francisco. I had heard about their concept--a punk band that derived all its songs from the action movies of Arnold Schwarzenegger--I was totally intrigued. Little did I know that I would be totally swept up by the rocking intensity and fun--yes FUN--of their performance. While some bands that novel twist to their music presentation are only worth seeing once and then lose their appeal, and ArnoCorps show is never boring. Their music stands on its own--fast, aggressive, pounding rock (they have two guitarists AND two bass players) with utterly catchy choruses that inspire punk rock-singalongs. But it is the charisma and energy of the band during their live shows that is utterly entertaining, a full-on "action-adventure audio assault." I was able to persuade Holzfeur, Toten Adler and Der Wolf to break from their training regimen to ask them a few questions about the band.

Can you tell those who are unfamiliar with the band about the history
of ArnoCorps? It is obvious from your accents that this is not your
native land. How did you come to these shores?

Holzfeuer: If the person reading this is unfamiliar with ArnoCorps, I
ask you to prepare for the next big step in life. We're going to open
your eyes and goddamn earholes to Action-Adventure Hardcore Rock and
Roll. The place to learn our histories is at arnocorps.com, but I
give you a quick downrun! Starting in Austria in 1989, we have stood
with ballsy defiance despite tragic events, bringing heroism back to
music for the people. Enduring lineup changes due to death of many
members, I was eventually exiled in year 2000 and came to California
to pursue my ballsy dreams. Our first show here was February 2001 at
924 Gilman st. More lineup changes have happened here, but thankfully
none killed. We have rocked constantly since that time to become
headliners and international stars. The people who come to ArnoCorps
shows become goddamn heroes by the time the night is over, learning
about the ancient heroic stories of Austria, such as Terminator,
Total Recall and Predator. We restore integrity to these stories that
were exploited and bastardized in big budget blockbuster Hollywood
bastardizations. We recently signed with Anticulture Records, a
heroic British record label.

Toten Adler: Exactly. More importantly, do you know what it's like to
wake up in the morning and to break walnuts on your own ass? Well you
never will until you accept your role as a goddamn hero. Feel my ass,
right there. Glutes like granite! Buttocks like boulders! All these
kinds of things.
Der Wolf: I'm the newest member of this greatest band of all time. I
came with musical advices. For some time, ArnoCorps was 2 guitars,
one bass. Then 3 guitars, one bass. Heroic symmetry can only come
from two guitars and two basses. We recorded our album this way, all
instruments tracked simultaneously.

Toten Adler: Heroic symmetry, just like my ass glutes. I'm like the
left cheek, Der Wolf is like the right. How can you beat that?

There was a time when many bands, especially death metal bands,
derived their inspiration for lyrical content from popular movies,
especially of the horror genre. Would you say that the music of
ArnoCorps differs from this practice?

Holzfeuer: You hit the nail with your head on that one. It's like the
old saying about the egg racing against the chicken. Which was first?

Der Wolf: The inspiration for our songs are stories that were told
long before film was even invented. Raw Deal, Eraser, Running Man...
all these were old Austrian folk tales that the communities in
mountain areas like South Tirol would pass down through the
generations. Then that Schwarzenoodle guy sold these stories out to
rise to fame and fortune. We expose these misdeeds and teach the
people true heroism, exampled by the real last action rock heroes in
ArnoCorps! Come on!

Toten Adler: Exactly.

I read a recent article from Psychology Today that explored how men
in the modern world are constantly searching out ways to have
meaningful heroic adventures because they just aren't offered many
productive ways to deal with our daily less tangible stresses--like
rush hour traffic jams or dealing with pencil-pushing bureaucracies.
It's much easier to slay a fantasy predator than beat up the person
who just wrote you a speeding ticket. Do you see ArnoCorps as
fulfilling an important role in today's world by providing an outlet
in this way?

Der Wolf: Sitting on your marshmallow ass all day pushing pencils and
computer keys is far from heroic. Life, for many out there is
monotonous as constant lack of variety and all these kinds of things.
At a live audio assault, everyone is a goddamn hero!

Holzfeuer: I can't imagine searching out adventures. For me it is
daily routines. Every time I swim, there is a shark there I have to
crush. I go jogging, and I'm getting chased by a pack of armoured
rhotweillers over there. I go to the shopping mall to buy barbells,
the elevator is broken so I swing across the mall on a banner like a
goddamn rope.

Toten: So is the question, do people want to be like ArnoCorps? Of
course. People can be a part of it at our shows. The unity out there
when everyone feels the pump is fantastic. It's like an orgasm. I'm
coming in my pants the whole time up there on stage, let me tell you.
Who would not aspire for this? ArnoCorps has given me many pumps and
I think probably many children I don't know about.

You set an example for the audience by your energized performance--
what kind of training regimen does ArnnoCorps follow to prepare for
their heroic performances?

Toten Adler: Repetitions. Resistance. Cardio. Glutes. Traps, lats,
delts. Quads, biceps, triceps, pectorals. Also smoking stogies and
drinking Red Heat!

Der Wolf: Red Heat is a mix of Austrian and Russian beverages in
there. Red Bull from Austria and Vodka from Russia. Fantastic.

Bassist Toten Adler performs uncanny feats of athleticism and bravery
(At one show he leapt from the stage, crowd surfed to the bar, ran
its full length and back-without knocking over a glass!--and then
jumped back to the stage.) Does ArnoCorps frown on the use of
performance enhancing drugs to feel the Pump? ("The Pump" is the rush
of energy and enthusiasm felt during an ArnoCorps show.)

Toten:Thank you for noticing my action adventure stylings up there.
The Pump is strongest when achieved with natural enthusiasms and
discipline. You don't need to enhance something that is already at
these levels.

Holzfeuer: Steroids can be a fantastic thing to build the large
muscles, but true strength is more than only physical. It is in your
judgement and your integrities. Of course most heroes are muscular
and most losers are flabby, but I have met flabby heroes and muscular
losers out there, too. Forget about it!

As a female, I was inspired to see a female guitarist, Halstucha, at
one of your shows, which happened to be her last and she has since
been removed from the line of duty. But I was refreshed to see that
the machismo is not fully exclusive of the female experience. I know
many females, myself included, who can definitely be overtaken by the
audio assault and pushed to feats of super human strength. Can we
safely assume then that ArnoCorps does not endorse women in the ranks
for groping purposes only?

Toten: That's true, but I've been known to treat objects like women
from time to time. Let me tell you, there is no better way to
evaluate the physical fitness of a woman than to do the hands-on
inspection. You need to know what's going on there. I'm just looking
out for their health. When I grab the breast or ass, it's because I care.

Holzfeuer: You mentioned Halstucha. Yes, she was one of the all-time
greats of ArnoCorps history and showed so many that you don't need
balls to be ballsy! We would welcome back at any time in the ranks,
if that is what she chose to do. You don't say no to that woman. You
don't grope her, either. You will end up dead.

ArnoCorps focuses on preparation and full training for an audio
assault. As we saw in the tragic events in New Orleans a month ago,
it is most important to be prepared for heroic life saving measures
at all times. I've been assured that ArnoCorps is a rescue team, not
assassins, so have you encountered such situations on the road that
required you to act in such a manner that showed the importance of
your training?

Holzfeuer: I've lived a tragic life and a heroic life all wrapped
into one. Every damn day I use my heroic demeanor to make a
difference. You need to be ready at all times to help others out, do
your best to support people's heroic goals and also to crush your
enemies, see them driven before you and hear the lamentations of the
women. You have to be well rounded out there.

Der Wolf: I was asked to save a cat from out of a tree the other day,
but I didn't do it. I'm Der Wolf, for Crom's sake! Get out of here!

How far outside of the Bay Area has the band traveled? Nationwide?
Worldwide?

Holzfeuer: Our primary record label now is in the UK. Heroes around
the world need our services. Since coming to the US in 2001, the
audio assaults of ArnoCorps have been restricted between the
barbarians of Santa Barbara and the Canadians of Portland Oregon, but
we're going to tour UK and Europe in June 2006. This month we're
doing a satellite feed to The Marquee in London as part of the
Anticulture showcase over there. November 17. Ballsy.

During your last invasion I suffered a sever contusion to the shin
from intense contact with a fellow combatant's boot. The swelling was
so large it could have been mistaken for a tumor! What is the best
field medicine treatment for such an injury for the future?

Toten Adler: If it's not a tumor, you need to let it ride. Feel the
pain. Embrace it. You can get strength from your pain, if you choose.

Now that you have completed your full length album that covers a
pretty exhaustive list of all the archetypal themes portrayed in our
big Hollywood action movies, do you feel like your mission is
accomplished? While you continue to perform live do you think you
will uncover other stories from this realm that will inspire you to
translate them to song?

Holzfeuer: Portrayed in Hollywood? More like betrayed by Hollywood!
Exploited, abused and tarnished. Bastardized. Our mission is not
complete.
Toten Adler: We have videos to make that will further reclaim this
tales as our own. Also, there are many more tales to be told.
Der Wolf: We need to stay ahead of the game, now. Before more of our
sacred lore is stolen, we will bring it to the people. Stay tuned,
ArnoCorps has much, much more to come. We have only just begun.

If you had to summarize the music of ArnoCorps in one word, what
would it be?
Holzfeuer: Ballsy
Toten Ader: Exactly.
Der Wolf: Fantastic.

Thanks for your time in answering these questions--see you at the
party, Richter!

8:18 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos