I’ve been listening to a lot of Eternal Lord as of late – mostly the last record they put out; they very full sounded, heavy-impacting 10 track album, and to me, only decent, worthwhile release, Blessed be this Nightmare. A crushing ball, not crashing bore (heh). I say ‘worthwhile’, as they finally strayed from that underground noise that all bands started off producing; filling up local venues. The sudden change for them, possibly the first of the likes, worked well in their favour; to switch from a deathcore heavy sound to a melodic, more mature, experienced, and enjoyable, cleverly crafted metalcore sound.

Nonetheless listening to Blessed be this Nightmare made me think, and reminisce. My several different thoughts are as follows:

I: I think back to when this style was bigger, or rather, more popular with the youth and scene, where all these musical careers started (In the mid-2000s, metalcore emerged as a commercial force) – the MySpace days. Music charts weren’t really much of a concern as they are now with the likes of Deaf Havana, While She Sleeps, Don Broco and the likes. Mainstream festival slots were not on the horizon, let alone the map. It seemed more about getting out ‘there’ and doing ‘it’, largely for yourself to look cool in front of girls. As a result, looking back, everything felt more down to earth, and even attainable; much easier to relate to.

Then suddenly, after the rush of metalcore, which soon was taken over by hardcore (a prediction I remember my friend making one night back in 2006 at a house party – “Hardcore is the next big thing man, I swear, it’ll take off”, he cried in his the Legacy shirt) they just quit, dropping like flies. This was constant of bands in the deathcore, metalcore scene. Even the likes of Eternal Lord had the opportunities to tour America but it was still never enough – it’s only those committed like Lower than Atlantis that have been able to stick it out through the bad, modify and enhance (and alter) their sound, remain persistent with self-promotion and dead-end shows… They never had anything handed to them.

It’s as if the only ones who have truly survived, especially via. the UK surge, are Bring Me the Horizon (and Architects following close behind), as they were even playing the Warped Tour whilst the scene was still building and growing – which was probably what influenced so many more kids to have a pop. I mean survived, in the sense that they do get into the charts, tour worldwide and have that critical acclaim, and acceptance. Now, with both bands, their sound has completely changed. Other bands also, such as The Eyes of a Traitor and Evita, have also altered and upped their game to suite the needs and demands of their fans, the modern music twist (granted, they sound all sound a lot better), or just too simply keep going as there are only so many open chord chugs a band can produce. They evolve, much like the before mentioned Lower than Atlantis. Fitting to end this thought is one of my favourite quotes from Robert C. Gallagher: “Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine”.

II: I bet all those bands that spend hundreds of pounds to deadbeat graphic designers on layouts for their MySpace pages are kicking themselves now.

III: “A thousand times I’ve tread this ground, just to see my own reflection” (‘I, the Deceiver’, Blessed be this Nightmare, 2006) bellows Ed Butcher, as do I, looking in the mirror with my TV remote in hand, clutching my chest and turning my fist into a claw, searching for the beauty in his words, the imagery, and the meaning. After listening to this song for the first time ever, years before, I remember being (and still feel) annoyed, as I wrote a line so similar myself, along the lines of searching for ‘you’ in the crowd, but only seeing my own reflection – yeah, I can be poetic too.

But nonetheless, the line is so easy to write yet so good, open to such interpretation and ideas; but you wonder if that’s just lazy writing. You reflect back to the words Butcher wrote during his short stint in I Killed the Prom Queen: “These city lights will never be as beautiful as your eyes” (‘Sleepless Nights and City Lights’, Music for the Recently Deceased, 2006), and, it’s hard to take him one hundred percent seriously, as it’s shoved (I use that word as it could be quickly created; forced) into a blender with music aggressive riffs and the vocal stylings; talk about juxtaposition: Hitler on a first date, Rihanna singing about purity rings, Geldof kicking a sandcastle over, punting a child’s phone into the River Themes or giving his mum a Chelsea smile. It’s hard to picture girls swooning the same way they did to Elvis, and thus, they lose their impact, meaning and potentially appeal all together. And again: “Let’s waste some time; laying hand in hand” (‘I, the Deceiver’, Blessed be this Nightmare, 2006).

I, in turn, decided to have a jab back at Butcher, and mimicked ‘I, the Deceiver’, writing:

Am I the chosen one?
Do I have it in me to be the man
That I’ve always wanted to be

Or something equally as embarrassing.

And don’t worry, my writing has gotten better since.

Lyrically however, metalcore showcased some of the worst around, so Butcher’s penmanship wasn’t all bad. Depicting gruesome horror scenes and fantasies, poorly executed, or just tales of hating women; embedded with misogynistic phrases and seeping with insults to former friends and lovers, or sticking the middle finger up to conformity and religion: “So clap your hands to the sound of every first born dying now, watch the rivers flow with blood, death will stand where life once stood” (Bring Me the Horizon – ‘Pray for Plagues’, Count Your Blessings, 2006) – I chose this one, rather some of the vile stuff actually said about women; me, I love women.

The lyrics, sadly, seemed to solidify and, even more sadly, influence our scene in the wrong, sordid light.

IV: The names! The fantastic, exuberant, ballsy band names! Like Clone the Fragile, From the Carnival of Horrors, Penknifelovelife, The Hunt for the Ida Wave, Make Me a Muskateer (local-ish band, featuring a (now ex) member of Deaf Havana. I just always loved the name), And their Eyes Were Bloodshot, Postmortem Promises, and Annotations of an Autopsy. Didn’t you just love the creativity in such names; how drunk they must’ve been to invent such an idea or word process (words in a bowler hat and pick out several different scraps of paper).

Just as insane were the witty, macabre song titles: Break the Sky came up with ‘I Work the Graveshift; Doesn't Mean I Stopped Caring’ and ‘Dementia is What the Old Folks Call Cabin Fever’, Penknifelovelife produced ‘It's 2am and I Saw Her Body Cavort the Lake Bed’ and ‘Touch Me Again and I'll Stab a Screwdriver Into Your Face’, The Hunt for the Ida Wave released ‘A Graphic Way to Show Nobody Cares is to Take to the Lake and Rapidly Descend, For My Mother is Asleep and So Should You Be’, ‘Jacob Denver Said It's Not Alright, My Friends Can't Breathe Under Water Like I Can. If I Stay on Shore Much Longer I'm Gonna’ Stitch His Insides to a Tree’ and also ‘The First Time She Touched Me I Became an Invention Called Zero, Baby the City Lights Will Always Be More Beautiful than Your Eyes’ (obviously, here, Butchers first crack at that phrase), Her Words Kill named songs ‘Nobody Here is Leaving Priscilla Brooke Alive’ and ‘Jennifer, Hit the Lights, We're Taking Over this Joint’, From the Carnival of Horrors had ‘Her Organs Were Found Across the Moors’, and The Nothing, ‘And the Dogs Hang Themselves with Scissors’ and ‘What Do You Expect Us to Do, Rob a Graveyard?’.

These are just some of the crazy concoctions that have stuck with me all of these years that I remember off the top of my head. One of my sorry excuses of penned song was oddly entitled ‘Why Do These Nightmares Always Involve You and Not the Thug Behind Morrisons?’. Recently, Lower than Atlantis paid tribute to this, imitating and mocking what once was, naming a song ‘I'm Not Bulimic (I Just Wanted to See How Far I Could Stick My Fingers Down My Throat)’. No one complained as this was hilarious and a nice touch.

V: Deaf Havana aptly naming a song ‘Isn't it Funny How People in Bands Lose Their First Names?'.

VI: Black (seldom white) youth medium band t-shirts. Showcasing designs with babies spewing out of heads of skulls with daggers and slime everywhere, a couple of boobs thrown in for good measure, accompanied by an illegible logo; has that all died out? Now replaced with hardcore, which even now seems on it’s way out, progressing to an Odd Future era, with the snapbacks, XL shirts, and Aztec prints – fashion became essential and vital; obviously depicted through that £200 purchase of a Brutality Will Prevail ‘Cheryl Cole x Chanel’ t-shirt on eBay (and subsequently the band trying to make even more money off of it by selling a poorly made (and designed) ‘eBay gold’ design). It soon became all about the merchandise, rather than the live experience, the name rather than the music.

I just remember venues once cluttered with these old band t-shirts (kids standing around with their arms crossed, obviously); before Oli Sykes made it essential to roll up your sleeves. Everyone had at least one to accompany your black Vans slip-ons and skin-tight jeans, or camo shorts come summer.

I remember getting my first… My mum bought it for me! I was drunk from a night-out with my friends, half-asleep (which felt like I was dreaming the whole thing) my mother shook me and from the end of the bed help up this glorious black, red and white t-shirt, youth medium in size (even though I was a small) and smiled graciously at me. When I came too an hour or so later, I sat up, and there in front of me, lay a From Grace (London metal, yuhh!) t-shirt. I was ecstatic. Tipsy and ecstatic. (It didn’t fit, but I didn’t give a s***. I lived in it). Due to the delays, my mother even contacted the band, and they sent me their album for free as an apology – this was better than Christmas (I hadn’t had sex yet). I would later speak to Alex (their frontman) several times in person at gigs, and on our first encounter, I brought this up with him. He said it was as a result of their poorly run record label taking ownership of the merchandise website, and essentially messing everything up, and that my mother was wise to contact the band directly. What a babe.

I ended up with a mass collection of band t-shirts, almost to the extent of deeming it a collection (better than stamps, but it still didn’t help the whole virginity issue). I even had a Penknifelovelife design in two different colours… All of which I ultimately ended up selling for 99p a pop on eBay (one of which ended up being bought by a Front Alt girl – wearing the bloody thing in her photo shoot; she told me she was buying it for her boyfriend), normally not making anymore than the starting bid price. The scene is dead.

VII: There was this one riff everyone used.

The Place to Be Promotions: I grew a vast knowledge and love for this scene as a result of myself being part of a local promotion team, getting thoroughly involved with the production of shows and brining in talent into our suddenly city’s lively music scene (with the help of two other promotion rivals – we’re now great friends!); spending nights research bands, scrolling through genre lists on MySpace and scanning friend lists; listening to track after track to discover gems and remarkable genius.

Shortly before joining, I played a gig for them, having made friend with the owner/creator, Jack, over the past few months as we shared the same bus to college. Whilst I made him listen to various local bands, he tried to get me into Iced Earth and the like, but to no avail... Naturally. Just before Christmas 2006, he hosted an acoustic night for charity in Stamford. And thought it’d be funny to put me and my band on. We had just formed, and were an acoustic three-piece: two guitars, one drum-kit, to be accompanied by my prepubescent pip-squeak voice. Despite the songs we wrote, and in my opinion, they were somewhat lovely and well composed and a thoroughly good listen, it was a disaster waiting to happen.

The day music changed.

I suppose, in hindsight, our name didn’t really help proceedings: Fistdance. Its birth was an odd process, and if I remember correctly, it originated from Taking Back Sunday’s ‘Slowdance on the Inside’. I liked the word ‘Slowdance’, and after a quick MySpace search, realised it was already taken by a marginally successful band, so opted for ‘Fastdance’. But, discussing this, I made a typo, creating ‘Fistdance’. We worked with this on the basis that ‘fist’ would represent the hard hitting side of our music, and ‘dance’ to blend in with the melodies and tender side – and we just ran with it.

This whole idea back-fired a fair bit, most notably when I was at a friend’s family party, a grand shindig, I was speaking to my friend’s aunt; she was a fun individual, and pretty drunk by the time we were introduced. I informed her of my upcoming debut, to which she asked what name we went by. After a few seconds of silence, whilst she registered the name, she balled her hand into a fist, put her other hand around her wrist loosely, and said, “Like, is that some slangy nickname for fisting?”, gliding her hand up and down her forearm.

The gig, anyway, was one dreadful affair. With the aid of one million stomach-butterflies and an incredibly unprofessional soundman, my rock n’ roll career was very much over. But that’s another story. Essentially, it was ever since them (perhaps a bad experience too far) that I got on the other side, so to speak, and assisted Jack ever since in the promotion and production of his shows, to if anything, further my love and experience. This, in turn, sparked a hundred more stories. The pride and honour I felt walking around the venue with a staff badge, and eventually staff t-shirt, doing various jobs, even getting chances to just enjoy the bands, rally the crowd and join in with two-stepping and the mic grabs, was one of ecstasy.

I fell in love with this scene: the passion and energy, its people, the atmosphere of live shows, the thundering annoy-mum music, the incessant ballache that is drums in sound check, the buzz and atmosphere before the doors open, the emotional lyrics, not quite its fashion, its sense of community and quirky nicknames. Band stickers, now plagued with black dirt, clinging on to the base of my Fred Perry canvas shoes along with shards of glass from a broken bottle or smashed tumbler glass. I breathed in the sweat as my feet stuck to the beer-drenched sticky floor, ears ringing. The dirt under my nails; the ink stained on my hands after handing out flyers. It was a good time!

And yet, it’s weird; after months, if not years, of not listening to certain songs, for them to crop up on iTunes shuffle, I enjoy listening and still know the words, I chant along. I feel as if my love and respect for it will never fully die, no matter what breeds from it now, I can reflect back and remember how much I enjoyed my youth; that was our generation’s scene; that was us.

I’ve been thinking about today’s era, which I’d like to now dub as ‘Generation Heartbreak’. Typically, when you tire of your current playlist, or the consistency of the radio’s repetition, or even the mundane ‘heard-it-befores’ spun out time and time again by our monotonous, lowlife DJs in clubs, we sigh and reflect back on to how the modern charts and music ended up in such a drab state. We question what makes music good; what makes it important to us? As more often than not, we find ourselves simply feeling no connection to what we’re listening too and wondering why anyone put pen to paper in the first place. Or is that just me? I don’t know; I don’t care.

Radio DJs, a vast majority, are no better – they lack a spark of originality. Perhaps with radio being a dying art, the passion and energy is gone; it’s deemed too much effort to put life back into his; go down with the ship. Yet, they’re the damn catalysts in this hypocrisy! So we are chained down, caged in to the likes of Adele and Gotye time and time again. I’ll repeat this throughout this column, for I am in no way discrediting these artists as people, but where is the creativity is listening to these same, tiresome songs daily – and not feeling anything from their vague meanings and tones?

Themes in pop songs appear companionless (ha!), and we’re left with the reoccurer: heartbreak. Of course that was the first ideal that came to your head when you think of Adele and Gotye, and even more recently the likes of Katy Perry (‘Part of Me’), Taylor Swift, NeYo, etc. are getting on said bandwagon. Songs therefore are not inspiring or truly emotion; generic phrases pilled upon one another and (as read on Uberfacts: 92% of pop songs deal with sex, and surrounding), more often than not, break-ups and relationships – it’s as if music is moulding our generation to become this shallow, one-dimensional entity, with little care of anything else but sex and ‘having’ something with someone. In feeling, but also this forlorn theme supported by the works of social networking (Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram), our lone, secluded insecurities take centre-stage in the blueprint for this downfall.

Emotionally, on this subject, it is not in depth as they barely scrape the surface or deal with the real heart of the problem (along with the music videos that just not... add up; they have nothing to do with the song most of the time; for example Emeli Sandé’s ‘Next to Me’: it’s a self-indulgent video, rather than a powerful story; is that in turn the record label simply being lazy?) in order to gain this wide mainstream appeal – so it can easily connect with anyone at any given moment. But what’s the point? Then there is the likes of Keaton Henson (obviously aware due to previous entries that I am an admirer – and this is one reason why), reading his lyrics made me feel exactly what he felt, and reminisce to the sorrow I had for previous break-ups, but what’s more is… I connected; “The thought of your hands on his chest makes my stomach itch” (‘Party Song’, Dear…, 2011), I feel haunted simply reading it, and hearing him choke out those words packs a powerful punch. I believe that’s where the difference lies; the ability of an artist to convey true emotion, which is why there was such a take off of real emo violent/passionate music in the 90s, i.e. American Nightmare, Rites of Spring, Indian Summer, and Hot Cross.

All these before mentioned chart topping artists, yes, they all have a fantastic set of lungs and I’m not taking anything away from them (Christ, I’m in fact in admiration of their voices, sure), but it’s the most celebrated music we have; this is being played on radios consistently and what is on TV, and is always there, easy access – I find it depressing, because musically, they don’t do everything themselves, and it feels like they’re gaining a lot of praise; and then there’s song-writers (if of course the artist doesn’t write the sub-standard songs themselves, bad enough) as lyrically, they are nothing. A common case is repetitive lines, poorly written ones at that. For example, Nicki Minaj’s ‘Stupid Hoe’ is in no respect, clever; if anything, encouraging moronic behaviour and misogynistic tendencies. A somewhat retaliation, a cry for unity, can be seen in Beyoncé’s ‘Run the World (Girls)’, but, again, constructed by a team of four writers (four!), the lyrics speak for themselves.

I may rename this generation actually: Generation Heartbreak, Heartbreak, and Heartbreak.

I consider this frustrating! Especially as we turn to music for support in times of need, to help us cope, for comfort, for guidance, inspiration, motivation, top heal – anything! It has to be meaningful (to us). Yet we find ourselves exposed and exploited to such drone garbage and dribble. I feel defeated and uninspired listening, at home, out shopping, in clubs and bars; what is grabbing up by the cuff anymore?

Song-writing is a craft in its own right, and it’s as if poets aren’t paid enough respect, let alone attention, too! I’m aware it takes time to perfect, so settling for the first finished product should never be accepted. Or, to quote Paul Valery French: “A poem is never finished, only abandoned”. For me, it’s always been the words I’ve found most captivating, the inspiringly unique turns of phrases or images created. Their part in songs are vital, they should be considered the linchpin rather than not simply making a song an instrumental. Below are several favourite pieces of lyrics that truly showcase talent and you can connect with and relate too;

“You're no good for me
But I guess not bad enough
Because on quiet nights I come to find you
Crawling through my kick drum
Hell bent on deliverance of all the privileges
Of being with you, Heaven sent, I crane my neck
To watch you desperately march down my chest, enjoying every step
Emphasized by distances we never intended
You come crawling back through my regrets to remind me of what you said
We’re no good at this”

- Crime in Stereo – ‘...But You Are Vast’, Crime in Stereo is Dead, 2007

These lines create a wild and vivid, chilling almost, state and scene. I hold appreciation for the dying poets. The music then blends in and builds up these words. They accompany them perfectly. You discover the powerful emotions Dunne is spilling out, leaving you too, haunted.

“So I'm running down Fifth Avenue headed south
I'm going to get you that ring I've been thinking about
I hope that you will like it, I know that you'll like it
I know you've got your necklace and bracelets so it's different
I'm different, I know that you're different
And it doesn't make a difference our differences differ
Cause it makes us the same, and I needed the change
To call you that day I tried to get you that ring
I said, "Baby, it's Jerry, my cell phone is dead
I need you, I'm freezing my cheeks are rose red"
So you came to my rescue and kissed my cold lips;
You said, "Baby I'm here, please don't miss me like this!"
But I did, and I do, and I will, and I won't
Settle for my bed that's increasingly cold
I dream every night that you're biting my wrists;
New Orleans and vampires, I miss you like this
And I did”

- Trophy Scars – ‘Alligator. Alligators.’, Alphabet. Alphabets., 2006

Winding roads, arteries and avenues of word play; spectacular when you re-read to discover new twists. Furthermore:

“Alright... Alphabet, alphabets are amazing, astonishing, aspiring and always aging. Agreeable accents accompany awful answers. Aphrodite’s antithesis, antelope antlers.
I spent six months embedded in ink
I read your book and poured a drink
I knew my alphabet wouldn't be the same
The day you left and got on that plane
[…]
I want to thank you all: a spinning spectacle
My intention’s not to leave you coming back for more
It's a game, it’s a game, it’s fun
Adios, see you later, and have fun
There’s a million other things I'd like to say
But there’s not enough letters in my alphabet today“

- Trophy Scars – ‘Anxiety, Anxieties.’, Alphabet. Alphabets., 2006

Alliterations: clever, complex. His words say it all. Jerry Jones took time when penning this record, which still remains their finest work to date.

“Don't know what I would have had to write about if there wasn't you, or if I ever would have wrote at all. They said it wouldn't last, nothing ever does, but you and me, we're different, always were. Stuck together forever, whatever that will mean. Everything is still all wrong, and we're still all that's real (the only thing that's ever been). The only words I’ve ever meant was when I said ‘I’d do anything for you’. See, our claws stretch deep inside, and that's where they'll stay. You say you're lucky you have me, but I had nothing before you had me, nothing to care about and no songs to sing. I’ve seen the world singing songs about you (the only story I could ever tell right). We said we'd see the world; you gave it to me. So we're stuck together forever, you and me. Stuck together forever, no matter what that means”

- Killing the Dream – ‘Holding the Claws’, Fractures, 2008

Bad grammar aside, ‘Holding the Claws’ is, what I find to be, one of the best written love songs. Its simple use of flourished admiration really makes you smile and cry out all the same. My personal favourite line, was the powerful ‘We said we'd see the world; you gave it to me’, for not only is it beautiful and a touching sentiment, it can be read in two ways, equally has lovely. She gave Horner the world, which would be the commonly read idea, but also, as stated previously, he wrote songs about her, he had nothing to writ about previously, and as a result, he’s able to see the world touring, all thanks to his love. The concept of claws is obscure, but mesmerising – bound together, with a tight grip so matter what tries to tear them apart; love hurts.

“In a sweater poorly knit, and an unsuspecting smile
Little Moses drifts downstream in the Nile
A fumbling reply: an awkward, rigid laugh
I'm carried helpless by my floating basket raft
Your flavour in my mind swings back and forth between
Sweeter than any wine, and bitter as mustard greens
Light and dark as honeydew and pumpernickel bread
The trap I set for you seems to have caught my leg instead
As you plough some other field and try and forget my name
See what harvest yields, and supposing I'd do the same
I planted rows of peas, but by the first week of July
They should have come up to my knees but they were maybe ankle high
Take the fingers from your flute to weave your coloured yarns
And boil down your fruit to preserves in mason jars
But now books are overdue and the goats are underfed
The trap I set for you seems to have caught my leg instead”

- mewithoutYou – ‘In a Sweater Poorly Knit’, Brother, Sister, 2006

Weiss is a master of rhymes; never before have I came across a song-writer which such a strong talent I would urge and plea him to write literature if I were to ever be graced with his presence. He comes up with stand-alone ideas and executes their imagery beautifully, always coming to a conclusion.

“You caught me making eyes at the other boatmen's wives
And heard me laughing louder at the jokes told by their daughters
I'd set my course for land, but you well understand
It takes a steady hand to navigate adulterous waters
The propeller's spinning blades held acquaintance with the waves
As there's mistakes I've made no rowing could outrun
The cloth low on the mast like to say I’ve got no past
But I'm nonetheless the librarian and secretary's son
With tarnish on my brass and mildew on my glass
I'd never want someone so crass as to want someone like me
But a few leagues off the shore, I bit a flashing lure
And I assure you, it was not what it expected it to be!
I still taste its kiss, that dull hook in my lip
Is a memory as useless as a rod without a reel
To an anchor-ever-dropped, seasick-yet-still-docked captain
Spotted napping with his first mate at the wheel
Floating forgetfully along, with no need to be strong
We keep our confessions long and when we pray we keep it short
I drank a thimbleful of fire and I'm not ever going back"

- mewithoutYou – ‘Messes of Men’, Brother, Sister, 2006

There is a fast-paced tempo with this, adding energy and tension as this opening track; the words create an expert sense of urgency. Weiss is an honest and raw writer, be it story telling (see their latest release Ten Stories), or using himself as the subject and muse (notably ‘January 1979’, and the very personal “I'm still, eh, technically a virgin after 27 years, which never bothered me before, what's maybe 50 more?” (‘C-Minor’, Brother, Sister, 2006))… He has a gift.

And finally:

Party hard!
Party hard!
Party hard!
Party hard!

- Andrew W.K. – ‘Party Hard’, I Get Wet, 2001

One of my favourite songs is ‘Limousine’ by Brand New, inspired by, and centred on, a true story; horrifying and gripping. What impressed me most, when researching the song, was how well Jesse Lacey was able to refer back to the story, base a song around the incident, and capture the thoughts of all those involved. This song had a meaning, and what’s more is it had a lot of work in its writing process.

This song is about the death of a local Long Island 7 year old girl, Katie Flynn. Hours before her death, Katie was the flower girl at her aunt's wedding, spreading petals down the aisle. As they left the wedding, they travelled home in a limousine. Martin Heidgen had had at least 14 drinks that night and his blood alcohol content was more than three times the legal limit in New York; he drove more than two miles north in a southbound lane to meet the limousine, containing the Flynn family, head on. Both the driver, Rabbi Stanley Rabinowitz, and Katie were killed instantly. Katie was decapitated and her mother held her head as rescue workers helped the rest of the family out of the vehicle. The lyrics in this song draw many parallels to this tragedy.

Truly harrowing and yet this is where my love for music is fuelled! I implore you to research this song deeper yourselves. On a bit of a sour note, however, Travis Reilly, frontman to This is Hell recently tweeted:

“Reading this Metallica biography makes me realize that nobody who matters is ever going to sell millions of albums again [...] with that said, I know Adele is selling millions and I think she's rad, but you know what I mean. Those days are just long gone… Bummer”

Addressing the current situation in modern music, not only with what companies are making sell, the result of internet downloads, but also that the time and effort that is going into music is often unnoticed and as a result, unnourished.

I’m not sure whereas I am/was going with this train of thought, but it was something I wished to express; not necessarily get of my chest, but I suppose, simply raise. I’m not expecting a rebellion, an uproar against modern ways, boycotting your local HMVs... If anything, that’s the last thing I want. It’s a sad state of affairs – so OFWGKTA with some angsty vocals and capture an attention deranged unimaginative, the-world-owes-me-something generation with “Kill people, burn s***, f*** school” (Tyler, the Creator – ‘Radicals’, Goblin, 2011); hardly a candidate for song of the year; hardly a work of art; hardly demiurgic or visionary. It’s just so… unoriginal and uninvolved.

But perhaps these hidden gems we do find are my, your, and our little treasures; discovering these secrets become our reward, the fact you have to go out of your way to find these unknown pleasures, making it that much more special and enjoyable. Like everything in life, don’t just settle; explore and indulge in the new and the wild. Keep exploring! Experience new emotions – there is a wide range of music, so broad it will complete your pallet specifically to you; I’m yet to even begin with mine. And that is what makes these finds so unique and …diamonds in the rough. I’ll stop now, I’ll have a strong Irish coffee (, sigh into it), and stop being such a grumpy old man.