So I listened to nothing but black metal for a week

Spent seven days giving "nothing but black metal november" a try, but there's simply too much out there to listen to that isn't black metal. (I also confused Opeth for Mastadon, a good sign I sufficiently soaked myself in corpse paint). HOWEVER, I would consider the past seven days a success for two reasons: I've expanded my music library to include some phenomenal new bands and I've really begun to appreciate black metal.

Reason the latter: Black metal may be the least accessible form of metal, if not one of the least accessible. It's taken me months and months to begin to appreciate it enough just to listen to an entire album. now i fucking love emperor, burzum, and deafheaven. I could listen to them for hours. Before, black metal was noise: fast, insanely distorted, without changes in dynamics, devoid of tri-tone riffs, blast beats, and with weird screechy vocals that had to be an octave higher than anything I normally listen to. But I swear by the time the seven days were up, there was a beauty to the intricacies of the arrangements. There are patterns to the guitar parts, the distortion delicately integrated, subtle changes in dynamics, the blast beats fit perfectly, and the vocals held a powerful meaning and symbolism I never knew of.

I rewatched the documentary "Until The Light Takes Us" in late october, and it rekindled my desire to get more into black metal. Before then (having not really given the film much thought the first time seen), it was a bizarre and irritating genre. It had some weird european history and was devoid of all other stylistic elements of metal. I've tried for months to get into it, going with a periodic brute force method. compared different eras. nothing. But then I gave "Hvis lyset tar oss" a listen after rewatching, and it all began to click. This wasn't just a couple guys mad at the world making music that was supposed to literally sound black. It was a very small, unique extreme counterculture movement, one that has roots in developing music of earlier eras (which I always find fun) and roots in social unrest.

These guys (the members of bands like Burzum, Immortal, Mayhem, Darkthrone) were deeply inspired by Bathory, Venom, and Mercyful Fate. they developed that into their own thing, deeply bathed in the social unrest that drove the scene. That unrest, at times, fueled a fundamentalist approach: church burnings, murders. Black wasn't just a genre, it was its own lifestyle. Most genres can't say that. The way black metal struck back at musical norms was also fueled by this unrest: the more lofi the recording, the bigger "fuck you" to the clean, expertly recorded and cut records that didn't question why clarity should be the norm. I feel this comes out in the music, especially in Burzum, Mayhem, and Darkthrone.

The dankness of "Filosofem" and "Under a Funeral Moon" suddenly make all the sense in the world. (I'm a big melodeath/folk metal fan, and we like crisp, clean mixes (see: Wintersun's "Time I")). The grueling wall of guitar noise and blast beats sounded instead like a violent cacophony, wanting to reach out and punch anything that hated it. The vocals had a melancholy quality to them, even within the underlying pent-up aggression. And that's just my revelation concerning '90s Norwegian black metal.

There are two waves of black metal in terms of rock history: the first wave (early 1980s Bathory and Venom), and the second wave (early 1990s Norwegian bands). There's a third wave developing right now in the U.S. Bands popping up incorporating post-rock/metal and shoegaze elements are growing. These guys are being inspired by the music of the '90s and reinterpreting it for themselves in the form of current U.S. black metal, and it's a kinda great result. These bands have locked in on the emotiveness of black metal, someone I never noticed before. There's a much different type of melancholy in this emerging wave, something very post-rocky a la every Sigur Ros song ever. What it is, I don't exactly know yet. and that's rather exciting. (But the answer is definitely not Liturgy's frontman's 'transcendental manifesto').

Reason the former (yup, I finally got there): I don't scroll through my music library and instantly skip over the various black metal bands. It legitimately used to feel as if I blocked them out completely, like they weren't there at all. Scrolling through my library now makes it look a whole lot more full. I have so much more to listen to now, and I can never have enough music to listen ton. I can unwind by putting on some black metal and letting it block out all the noise. I'm going to enjoy it while it still feels new.

Why I Listen to Metal

The drums start up, rolling a fierce, fast marching pattern that lingers until the first riff hits. Soon the second guitar kicks in along with the bass. The drum pattern picks up, matching the intensity of the riff. Then come vocals: harsh, guttural, powerful. Another riff slams into you, and then another. A solo comes flying through, screaming and burning. And then another solo, riff, verse, riff, outro, In the meantime, all hell is breaking loose around you. You’re leading an army into battle and soaring through mountain ranges and running through brick walls. There’s an overwhelming sense of strength and vigor running through you, a feeling akin to being indestructible. Like the guy who walks slowly away from a fiery explosion bursting behind him and doesn’t blink.

In reality, I’m just sitting on my bed. I’m wearing a bathrobe, haven’t done my homework, and I’m really hungry. I have some Eluveitie playing, but somehow the combination of sitting on an Ikea bed frame and listening to “Your Gaulish War” isn’t quite one that screams “metalhead,” whatever that term means. Other times I might be sitting on the bus, wearing khakis, a white, collared shirt, and a Star Trek jacket. I just sit there, watching the same boring scenery pass by as I take the same route I always do. Even when Thor, Hlodyn’s son, protector of mankind, rides off to meet his fate while Ragnarok awaits him, I’m merely Matt, John’s son, protector of very little, and I’m riding off to class while the j-school and student union await me.

But during that ride, I sink into the music pounding in my ears. I’m only sort of on the bus. Another part of me is far away, in some other world that I’m not exactly sure of. It’s definitely a place I like to visit, and sometimes I stay there for hours. It’s great: the music’s there, I’m there, the book I’m reading is there, and nothing else is. It’s like my own private beach, except it’s right next to an active volcano, the natives are Uruk-hai, and the sea’s filled with sharks with freakin’ laser beams. Most importantly, the music’s all around, pouring out of everything, omnipresent and pulsing with life. And all of that is flowing through me, while I sit on the bus and while I sit on my bed wearing a bathrobe.

There are other types of music that generate strong feelings and emotions within me. There’s the raw honesty of folk and heartland rock, the rebelliousness of protopunk, and everything that is Led Zeppelin. There’s music that will bring tears to my eyes, plop me to the top of the world, or pick me up regardless of circumstance. But I never get to the beach that way. I don’t know if it’s possible to get there any other way, or if the numbers 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, and 42 mean anything. But that beach is a damn nice place to be, and it’s where I’m having my most intense musical experiences. There’s something comforting about slipping out of the moment for a bit and taking a breather elsewhere, where it’s you and only you and you’re a god thundering music down upon the waves.

I’m eager for Wintersun’s “Time I,” which is supposed to come out in two weeks. I’m excited to listen to it as I sit in the Union and read whichever Wheel of Time book I’m on. I can’t wait to play The Sword’s new album while I do laundry, and the next time I go grocery shopping I’ll be sure to rev up some classic In Flames while I glance through the produce section. I’ll save Amon Amarth for the gym, Moonsorrow for when I’m walking home at night, and Deafheaven when it’s particularly autumny outside. And I know a lot of black metal focuses on the cold, frigid nature of Scandinavian winters, so I’ll pull out some Agalloch and Darkthrone when it starts snowing.

How "Prometheus" Failed

After I saw Prometheus, I purposefully didn't write a review on here for two reasons. First, I only saw it after it had been out in theaters for several weeks, and I prefer to post reviews while the movies are still relatively new. Second, it was just a crappy movie. To sum it up in one sentence, I felt like I had just watched six different movies and maybe two of them weren't terrible. There were so many issues with the script that any review I might write would end up being a long, ranting piece about how I thought the movie sucked.

Which means this post is going to be a long, ranting piece about how I thought "Prometheus" sucked.

(WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD)

1. Character (un)development

There were only two characters in the movie that I liked: Michael Fassbender and Stringer Bell (sorry, make that Idris Elba). Fassbender's just a wonderful actor, and it was fun to see Stringer from The Wire in a scifi movie. There were also a bunch of other characters as well, none of whom I cared about. In no particular order, there was Lead Female Protagonist, Guy You Thought Was Lead Male Protagonist, Charlize Theron In A Skintight Jumpsuit, Some Asian Guy, Some Asian Guy's Friend, 40-Something Scientist Lady, Guy With Beard, and Other Guy Who May Have Had A Beard. I may be leaving someone out. Oh well, they clearly weren't important to the plot at all.

Lead Female Protagonist (LFP) is someone we as the audience are supposed to root for. Supposed to. Usually this is done by making the character relatable to us, pitiable, or just straight awesome. LFP was maybe number two, pitiable, but not through any clever means. Her traits were that of the "idealistic scientist who's too noble for cynicism or to think that people might want to misuse science and technology for malicious purposes" trope. In one word: naive. And naivety does not endear me to a character, mostly because I like characters who are, you know, smart.

Then there's Guy You Thought Was Lead Male Protagonist (LMP). I label him that partially because he's also extremely one-dimensional, and also because he's killed halfway through the movie. He has some sort of romantic thing with LFP, but this is never made clear how serious it is (unless I somehow missed that; be explicit, screenwriters). The two of them clearly do have a thing, but I don't know if it's long-term, or if it's because they're horny in space and their options are limited. Point is, the move tries to cash in emotionally on this relationship when LMP dies because we're supposed to sympathize with LFP even more.

I'd love to explain what Charlize Theron's character's role was, but I just plain don't know (aside from the obvious looking-good-in-skintight-clothing). She's like the captain or something, the person in charge of the mission. Everyone is supposed to do what she says even though we have no real reason to respect her authority. But she drinks vodka straight, so watch out for her badassery! In the first Alien movie, the captain of the Nostromo seemed like a sensible, decent guy. He was level-headed, brave, and cared more about his crew than the mission. Theron just yelled at people to do things she didn't want to do herself and didn't show a whole lot of that putting-the-crew-first thing.

2. People Doing Stupid Things Over And Over Again

Remember when I wrote that I like intelligent characters? This movie didn't have any, except for Fassbender and that was because Fassbender's an android (or maybe a REPLICANT???) who follows his programming. Everyone else did stupid things over and over and over and over and over until they finally got themselves killed and I cruelly laughed at their demise.

Some of the more egregious decisions: LFP is impregnated without her knowledge by Fassbender and after she goes and has a really crazy abortion surgery scene, SHE WALKS RIGHT BACK TO FASSBENDER AND IS LIKE "HEY Y'ALL, WHAT'S HAPPENING?" As someone who can't get pregnant, I can't predict how I'd react in this situation, but I'm reasonably sure that I WOULDN'T DO THAT. Am I in the neighborhood on this one, ladies?

Another stupid decision happens with the two bearded dudes. They get lost on the alien ship (of course they do, even though THEY HAVE A MAP) and when they think there's something alive that's after them, they head back to the room that's FILLED WITH DEAD BODIES. Logic must have gone extinct right before the 22nd century. Beard One and Beard Two (alternatively Scottish Beard and Glasses Beard), are both then killed by the creatures in the room.

And finally, the climax sucked. The reveal that the really old guy was on the ship the whole time (THE CALL IS COMING FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE!!!) was bizarre. Part of that six-movies-in-one thing I stated earlier. And why was he there? To ask the aliens "Hey, I know you seem like you're planning on sending of these ships filled with biological weapons to Earth to wipe out our species, so do you mind giving me eternal life, which I'm presuming you have because I'm old and don't want to die and that's all that motivates me?"

As if the moment when the alien went apeshit and murdered the old guy and six others wasn't enough of a warning (along the plan to DROP BIOLOGICAL WEAPONS ON EARTH TO ERADICATE US), the movie ends with LFP deciding to visit the alien's homeworld to convince them not to kill us. I'm sure that's going to work. Absolutely positive. In no way do I believe these guys will murder the everlasting shit out of you the second you try to speak to them. Nope. Totally not gonna happy. You keep on being that naive, idealistic scientist who, by the way, decided to travel to the aliens' planet WITH THE GUY WHO IMPREGNATED HER WITH AN ALIEN AND ALSO WAS DIRECTLY RESPONSIBLE FOR LMP'S DEATH.

Seems reasonable to me.

Kid Stands on Old Person's Lawn, ESPN Reports

Speaking as someone who is terrible at basketball, I think I am completely entitled to throw my opinion into a basketball discussion. Especially considering the irrelevancy of this particular basketball topic. Apparently over the last day or two, the 2012 men's Olympic basketball team and the 1992 men's Olympic basketball team have been trash-talking each other over which is/was the better team. Yup, a bunch of old, retired basketball guys are arguing with 20-somethings about something that will never, ever happen unless some form of time travel occurs.

Here's the breakdown of the situation: The '92 Olympic team has been considered the single greatest collection of basketball talent ever. They were given the moniker "The Dream Team" for that specific reason: Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, Patrick Ewing, Karl Malone, Charles Barkley, John Stockon, Scottie Pippen, David Robinson, Clyde Drexler, Christian Laettner, and Chris Mullin. Basically Superman times twelve. During their run for the gold, they outscored their opponents by about 44 points per game, as if they were playing against sixth-graders. In the gold medal game, they won by a 32-point margin.

Just so we're clear, '92 team = Gods.

But that was 20 years ago, and now a completely new group of players fills the roster for this year's team. They're also basically gods. LeBron James, Kevin Durant, and Kobe Bryant are a few of the players that make up the team. This is a really, really good roster. Barring some sort of catastrophic event such as a bubonic plague outbreak or the Monstars sucking up all their talent, this team's going to win gold this year.

But then somebody had to open their big fat mouth.

I don't know who started the trash-talking, but someone (I think it was Kobe's ego) said that their team was better than the other and would beat them, temporal physics notwithstanding. And of course members of the other team shot back, giving relevance to this pointless claim. Now there's trash-talking back and forth, and the basketball media is rolling with it because it's July and, aside from Dwight Howard acting like a whiny little shit, there's nothing to talk about.

"I know what we can talk about! Young people standing on some old guys' lawns and the old guys yelling at them to get off! Think of the ratings!" - Someone at ESPN, probably.

That's my "media critique" of this situation. Being a journalism major, I am completely entitled to offer my vastly knowledgeable opinion on the media that I've gleaned from the handful of classes I've taken over the past few years. I do have to say that I haven't turned on the TV today (OK, that was a lie, I watched some Breaking Bad and Community; but I don't have cable), so I don't know if ESPN devoted any coverage to it. My gut says they did, as there are stories about the feud on its website, and I've seen a number of ESPN people tweet and/or retweet things about it all afternoon and evening. (Looking through online stories at its website, ESPN appears to have devoted some time to the story through the airwaves. Links to segments on PTI and SportsCenter are available to view).

But this is a non-story. Here's why: There's no way you can ever definitively prove which team is/was better. Unless the TARDIS appears or someone from Starfleet decides to violate the Temporal Prime Directive, this matchup will never happen. Sure, you can run projections and get an idea of what might happen, but that's it. It's not trash-talking that bothers me in this whole story, it's the fact that people are actually debating who would win. I know I sound like a fun-killer for saying that, but let me clarify: Debating this amongst your friends is fine. I'd sure like to have it with my friends and see where the discussion goes. But having this debate on SportsCenter or PTI? That's my problem.

Why are you wasting my time on this by letting anchors and analysts try to give a definitive answer to a question that doesn't have one? We're talking about two different eras of basketball: Different styles of play, different officiating/rules, different league configurations, etc. This is essentially comparing apples to oranges, and it's just not a feasible comparison. Also, aren't there other, more pressing news stories you could devote your time to instead of this? Like, say, the whole Penn State report that just came out. I hear that's KINDA A BIG DEAL. Or maybe not.


If ESPN does want to have this debate, give it to Bill Simmons. This is exactly his domain. He's probably the most knowledgeable basketball guy at ESPN, and people (by "people" I mean the totally not pretentious-sounding descriptor "media watchdogs") will know exactly where he's coming from: He's not the voice of an objective reporter, he's a sports fan who somehow gets paid to write about sports by ESPN without having to always be objective (which is basically my dream job). People know this and understand this when they read his columns, and his take on this debate, including a definitive answer on who would win a best-of-seven series, is 1000 times more relevant than the guys on SportsCenter who aren't talking about legitimate news stories.


So yeah, that's the end of my little rant. More like nit-picking, though. I might come down a little hard on ESPN, but this isn't that big of a deal. It just seems ill-timed in the light of the new information about the Penn State report. And let's face it, ESPN can't exactly do any more damage to their credibility anymore, because that assumes there's still something left to damage. ZIIIING!!!


Oh, and I'll take the '92 team any day. Duh.

Dr. StrangeLeBron or: How I Learned to Stop Hating and Respect #6

Is Lebron James a bad guy?

He used to be one. There were a variety of reasons, all of them reasonable and at the same time utterly bullshit, because that's the nature of fandom. Allegiances to teams and players are mostly arbitrary, usually determined by geographic location, who your parents root for, or because when you were six you thought that team had a cool name or uniform. That's how we decide who to root for and who to root against. And because we care so much about these arbitrarily chosen teams, they become an extension of who we are, and we feel we are an extension of who they are. So when a great player comes along and dominates your team, we take it personally. It's idiotic, pointless, illogical, and yet completely accepted by the masses.

So why do we hate LeBron?

The "we" I'm talking about is pretty much everyone outside of Miami and LeBron's family. Me personally, I hated LeBron because he burst on the basketball scene as the next Michael Jordan. No, strike that. He was meant to be greater than Jordan. "The Chosen One." He even wore the same number as MJ, 23, while he played for Cleveland. As a Bulls fan who grew up idolizing His Airness and witnessing the sheer destructiveness of the Bulls teams of the '90s, this trumpeting of James as someone who was sure to surpass Jordan's greatness was an affront to everything that defines me as a Bulls fan. You degrade my player, my team, my city, you degrade me by extension. Or at least that's how I used to think.

James took the NBA by storm when he arrived in Cleveland. He lived up to the hype: The Akron Hammer, the one who had what it took to carry the Cavaliers to the Finals. Time and time again I watched him beat the Bulls. So not only was he replacing MJ, he was rubbing it in my face. So I began rooting for his failure. When he made it to the Finals for the first time and lost, I felt a great deal of schadenfreude. As he continued to wrack up wins and playoff appearances, that schadenfreude grew. As long as he never won a ring, he'd never equal Jordan. That's all that mattered. Idiotic, pointless, illogical, and completely accepted by Chicagoans and nearly everyone outside of Cleveland.

Then something new happened: The Decision.

LeBron left Cleveland in a poor manner, that's not even a debate. Up until that point, the hatred of James was based purely on that bullshit nature of fandom. But then he publicly humiliated Cleveland, leaving a midwestern city for the glitzy, sunny locale of Miami. Now that's just unacceptable, and almost enough evidence to reasonably hate on James. Almost. So he went and joined his friends in Miami in hopes of finally winning an NBA title. His decision was motivated by a desire to win, fair enough. But then Miami held that stupid parade/pep rally where James went on about winning, "not one, not two, not three, not four, not five, not six," championships. Notice he implied winning more than six rings, the number that Jordan has. I took that personally.

With a new Big Three down in Miami, the desire to see LeBron fail seemed to grow. Joining with his superstar buddies in order to win championships felt like cheating somehow. A type of loophole for collusion. In the days and months after The Decision, a number of former NBA stars came about how they wouldn't have teamed up like that: Bird, Magic, and Jordan. MJ said something along the lines of wanted to beat them rather than join them in order to prove how good he was. And so I ate that up, believing it with the furor of some evangelical eating up a fiery sermon.

LeBron and the Big Three culminated their inaugural season by losing in the NBA Finals to the Dallas Mavericks, a team whose superstar player (Dirk Nowitzki) and owner (Mark Cuban) seemed to deserve a ring more so that James and company. Unlike the Heat, the Mavs' roster wasn't built New York Yankees style: Paying top dollar for the best players. Dirk chose to re-sign with Dallas the previous summer, so he had the loyalty factor LeBron no longer had, and the Mavs themselves were a team, not three superstars and some roster fillers. All this made Dallas's victory even sweeter, because I'm stupid like that.

Then something weird happened: He won. They won. And the rapture didn't even occur.

On Thursday, June 21, 2012, LeBron James and the Miami Heat won the NBA Championship. No raining frogs, no locusts, no erasing Michael Jordan's accomplishments. Ok, sure, Udonis Haslem and Eddy Curry both won rings, and that is some bullshit. But otherwise Jordan's legacy somehow stayed intact. Bizarre, huh? They're not going to tear down his stature outside the United Center or burn the championship banners hanging up inside. Jordan's not going to have to forfeit his rings and his victory cigars. Because there's only one Jordan, and even though it took me about eight years to realize this, I finally did.

One you accept the fact that there will only ever be one Michael Jordan (or one Bill Russell or Wilt Chamberlain), it gets a lot easier to not hate on LeBron.

There's been a lot said and written about LeBron throughout his career. We like to look at sports as more than just a bunch of guys doing things with bats and balls and hoops and helmets. We like our sports to carry a narrative, a live-action story we tune into night in and night out. And as with all stories, there have to be plots, settings, protagonists, antagonists, happy endings, and sad endings. But because the lens with which we sports fans use to look through when cheering on our team or booing another one is a bullshit lens, the characters and their roles are bullshit as well. Inevitably, James ends up cast as a villain: A selfish, disloyal antagonist whose failures strengthen our self-esteem because we like to live through those good guys who defeat James on the court.

I'll probably go back to hating on LeBron once the next season kicks off, only this time with much less ammunition to rely on when trying to portray him as the bad guy. Truthfully, though, there are no bad guys or good guys in sports (unless you're some legitimate asshole like Pacman Jones or Jerramy Stevens) because, once again, it's all arbitrary. If you're only crime is beating my team, I don't really hate you. I kinda hate you, but deep down not really. I only sorta hate you because I'm supposed to, because you're ruining the narrative of a happy ending for the good guys.


So congratulations, LeBron James. You finally did it, and I can't reasonably say I hate you for it. You earned it. Good for you.