(We present Daniel Barkasi’s evocative review of a new album by the Czech band Inferno, which will be released on July 17th by Debemur Morti Productions.) If you search for a band named Inferno on Encyclopedia Metallum, you’ll unsurprisingly get a lot of results. All of these are not created equal, of course. When we […]
The post INFERNO: “THE ANTHROPIC SOPHISMS (ON THE HEIGHTS OF DESPAIR)” appeared first on NO CLEAN SINGING.
The Rolling Stones will release their new album Foreign Tongues this Friday. I wrote a bit about it here. One track I didn’t mention is “Ringing Hollow,” the latest (and last?) song to get a pre-release preview treatment — not under an alias or with a star–studded video, but via an old-fashioned stripped-down performance.
The post Mick Jagger & Ronnie Wood Debut New Stones Song Lamenting America appeared first on Stereogum.
Legendary hard rock bassist Rudy Sarzo, who played with iconic guitarist Randy Rhoads in Quiet Riot from 1978 to 1979 and again in Ozzy Osbourne’s band from 1981 until Rhoads’s death in a plane accident in 1982, has pushed back against the long-circulating narrative of a rivalry between Rhoads and Eddie Van Halen.
Speaking with Gastão Moreira of Brazil’s Kazagastão (transcribed by Blabbermouth), Sarzo was asked directly whether a rivalry existed between Randy and Eddie Van Halen. Rudy responded: “No, that’s… No, I think it’s a myth. A myth that people… We’re in a time in history where alternate realities are very common. People invent things to suit their own journey in life. People don’t know the difference between an opinion and a fact. So they’ll make a statement based on an opinion to somebody who has experienced what they’re talking about, because they’re so programmed to believe an opinion rather than a fact.”
Earlier this year, Quiet Riot’s original bassist Kelly Garni told the “Booked On Rock” podcast that Van Halen and Quiet Riot knew of each other, even though they only shared the stage one time while they were coming up on the Sunset Strip, on April 23, 1977, at Glendale Community College in Glendale, California.
“At some point, we became well aware of Van Halen,” Garni said. “Especially when we were at the Starwood, as we were for a number of years. And we knew they were playing down the street at Gazzarri’s, which wasn’t really our type of a club. Because the Starwood was. Of course, the Whisky was the Whisky, but it had more of a punk rock scene going on there. So, we kind of avoided that place. The punkers didn’t like guys that looked like us either, so you got the jocks and the punkers wanting to kill you.”
Garni, who was Quiet Riot’s bassist from 1975 to 1978 and played on the group’s first two albums — 1978’s Quiet Riot and Quiet Riot II, which were released only in Japan — went on to say that there was “no competition” between Eddie and Randy. “And most certainly, there was no competition in Randy’s world,” he explained. “Because Randy didn’t compete. It just wasn’t in him to try to compete. He couldn’t. The way his brain was wired, he could not form the thought, ‘Oh, I’m gonna be better than that guy.’”
As for whether Eddie and Randy ever met, Kelly said: “[Randy] went down to Gazzarri’s because people were talking about this guy, and Randy said, ‘Well, I’ll go see what the deal is.’ So he went there, he and his girlfriend Jan, and he wanted to meet him. He saw him play, and he went, ‘Yeah, okay, the guy’s good.’ And so when they got all done, Randy was trying to get backstage to meet him, and he did get back there.”
“You gotta remember, Van Halen was doing all cover tunes at this point,” Garni continued. “Every once in a while, they’d sneak in one of their originals. But that was the deal at Gazzarri’s, is a more upscale crowd went there, that weren’t the rowdy, unpredictable, way-underage bunch at the Starwood.”
“So he did get back there, but Eddie was acting kind of crazy and bouncing off of walls in his underwear,” Kelly recalled. “And Randy was, like, ‘Oh, okay. Well, not the best time to meet this guy.’ So that was his opinion. He said, ‘Yeah, he was really good. But he looked kind of nutty.’”
Rhoads’s pre-Ozzy band Quiet Riot had been gigging on the Sunset Strip in West Hollywood, California, at the same time as Van Halen. Although both Rhoads and Van Halen later became some of the most influential guitarists of the 20th century — playing with a similar flair and incorporating finger-tapping into their fleet-fingered solos — Eddie found commercial success before Rhoads, due in part to the fact that Van Halen landed a record deal years before Quiet Riot did.
Rhoads and two others were killed on March 19, 1982, when the small plane they were flying in at Flying Baron Estates in Leesburg, Florida struck Osbourne’s tour bus, then crashed into a mansion. Rhoads was 25 years old. Eddie Van Halen passed away in October 2020 at St. John’s Hospital in Santa Monica, California. The 65-year-old died from complications due to cancer.
The post RUDY SARZO Says Publicized Rivalry Between EDDIE VAN HALEN And RANDY RHOADS Is A Myth: “People Invent Things To Suit Their Own Journey in Life” appeared first on Sonic Perspectives.
Twin Temple, the LA-based duo of married couple Alexandra and Zachary James, have carved out an interesting niche for themselves. They make old-timey doo-wop and early-’60s pop pastiche that’s full of campy Satanic imagery; hits include “Lucifer, My Love,” “Sex Magick,” and “Let’s Have A Satanic Orgy.” Apparently, not everyone appreciates this whole gimmick. The duo were booked to play a couple of shows next week with Charley Crockett, the old-school outlaw country star who just released his shelved album Clovis, but they say that they’ve been dropped from those shows because of their Satanic imagery.
The post Twin Temple Say They Were Dropped From Charley Crockett Shows Over Satanic Imagery appeared first on Stereogum.
It’s a story as old as, well, the six years since the pandemic: one-man project is given birth during the days of lockdowns and isolation. Eventually, once the lockdowns are lifted, that one-man project slowly gets fleshed and filled out to the existence of a full band where one person had previously spent their forced alone time playing and writing by themselves and staring into the glow of a computer screen. Originally coming to be in Gatineau, Quebec, Volubilis formed in 2020 by multi‑instrumentalist Miguel Marcheterre‑Pina with the first public showing being an instrumental demo issued in 2023. Since then, Marcheterre‑Pina has assembled a lineup — André Dubien (vocals), Jacob Collins (drums), Alexis Rioux (guitar), and Shawn Hillman (fretless bass) — and made the move to Montreal.
Most relevant to today’s posting however, is the band’s forthcoming debut album, Theasterion, an astute masterstroke of progressive melodic death metal wrapped in thoughtful and technical aggression, deep space sci-fi storytelling and stunning amounts of conservatory-level musicianship reminiscent of Obscura, Gorod, Fleshgod Apocalypse and Beyond Creation. You can give the band and Theasterion a spin below, as we’re ponying up the chance to listen to a stream of it in advance of its official release tomorrow.
Here’s what mainman Marcheterre‑Pina had to say about the album and all y’all (hopefully) taking the time to give it a listen (which we’d recommended, because it’s really f’n good): “After a couple of years of composing, recording, and working on the worldbuilding aspects of Theasterion, we’re very proud to finally share it with the metal community! It’s been a long and stressful process, so having Decibel premiere our very first album is a great honour, and we are extremely grateful for this opportunity. Getting our music out in the world is a huge check off the bucket list, and we are excited to see its legacy in our music careers!”
Photo Credit: Jade Weeles & Miguel Marcheterre-Pina
The post Album Stream: Volubilis Ride a Tech Rocket Into Space With <em>Theasterion</em> appeared first on Decibel Magazine.
GWAR co-founder Chuck Varga is dying. Facing mortality is one thing, but doing it after a career where staged death and fake blood are part of the job description is something else entirely. Although Varga’s name isn’t as well known as that of the late frontman Dave Brockie (Oderus Urungus), Varga’s imprint on GWAR—and, by extension, metal music and pop culture—is just as large.
Varga – known as the “Sexecutioner” – was one of the visionaries responsible for creating the GWAR multiverse from the ground up in the ’80s and an integral part of GWAR’s ascent to public awareness during the pivotal Scumdogs Of The Universe era in the ’90s. Without Varga, GWAR would not exist. In the past decade, however, Varga has been quietly fighting metastatic prostate cancer. The cancer has taken a turn for the worse, and Varga is now in hospice care.
Despite contemplating his own mortality, Varga remains as sharp and funny as ever. Varga says his embrace of Stoicism—a Greek philosophy that teaches adherents to control their reactions to events and emotions—has helped him accept his own mortality and appreciate looking back on what he helped create.
Varga and his wife, Bambi, still need our support. GWAR has launched a fundraiser to help support Varga and his wife, who has pivoted to being his full-time caretaker in his final months. GWAR is selling T-shirts, accepting donations, and offering unique items to fans. Please lend some support to someone who has done so much for metal and underground culture.
Varga is confined to his bed but talked to us about his life, his legacy, and how some extra support will help him and his family navigate this difficult time.
When did you start noticing something wasn’t right?
About 10 years ago. I went to the urologist, and he double-checked my prostate, and it turned out that I had prostate cancer. They did an operation and took out my prostate. They didn’t get it all. Over the course of 10 years, I’ve been taking hormone blockers and some radiation, which kept it in a very stable state.
The cancer found a workaround, and it developed a new strain, and it’s gone gangbusters since last summer, taking away my ability to walk. It left me partially paralyzed from the waist down. I am now in a hospital bed in my house in Florida, in hospice. The doctor said back in March that I had six months or less to live. I’m not really doing much in the way of treatments because they’re ineffective.
So the prostate cancer basically spread to other parts of the body? How did it migrate?
It’s gone everywhere. I have some in my lungs. I had some in the brain that we radiated. It’s all up and down my spine. It’s compressing my spinal cord so that I have no feeling in my legs, and it’s spreading throughout my body. They can’t cure me. It’s just to make me feel a little better.
How is your quality of life right now? You mentioned you can’t really walk.
I’m restricted to a bed I never get out of. A nurse comes by every day to wash me and check me out. I have a catheter. That’s what hospice is; it’s an organization that works with Medicare to help you with these things. They don’t really have a program for people who are paralyzed; most people who have cancer can get up and go to the bathroom. So it complicates my treatment, and I have to pay for that out of pocket. I have to pay for a nurse every day to come by and help my wife flip me around and wash me up. I’m very thankful that they can do that, but yeah, that’s my situation.
How are you maintaining some sort of positive outlook in the face of this, or has it affected your mental health?
My mental health is outstanding. My mood is bolstered by my philosophy. I’m a Stoic. I believe in ancient Greek philosophers and their outlook on life; whatever happens to you, you don’t have to react to it negatively. You can reframe it and actually count your blessings, which I do. I am not in that much pain. I also have a great caregiver in my wife, and my friends and a lot of people have stepped in to show support and help me. I have an embarrassment of friends.
It sucks being paralyzed. But I’m able to adapt to it. I’m grateful that I didn’t die right away. I’ve been able to make a will, get my affairs in order, make my wife the power of attorney, and get my retirement all squared away so that she is the beneficiary. And I did my taxes, believe it or not, from a hospital bed.
I’m working on a fundraiser with GWAR that will help out because the day that I had to go to the hospital, December 28th last year, she had to quit work and take care of me full-time. They put me in the hospital for several months—I had a bunch of stuff going on. The underlying conditions of the cancer compressing my spinal cord are more than the physical therapy can overcome.
When people donate to a fundraiser, they often do so thinking the person will get better. I don’t think people appreciate how much financial support is needed for a terminal illness.
This fundraiser is to help Bambi shoulder the role of being my caregiver. The fundraiser will primarily help Bambi as she goes through this transition. She’s going to go through some real hardship just dealing with my funeral arrangements, and then there’s the out-of-pocket cost of paying for a nurse to come by every day.
That stuff adds up.
It’s so worth it because it’s not something that one person can do. It was really taxing on my wife. She is such a warrior. She’s the one who’s stepped up. It’s difficult for me to do all my logistics from here, and my fingers are numb. So she has to deal with all that stuff. A lot of this fundraiser is for her.
You mentioned Stoicism. Given where you are, you have to be looking at the big picture, right? You helped create this thing that literally transformed all of culture.
Well, thank you. I really like to hear that. I am a modest person. When I first started doing the GWAR stuff, I thought, “We’re making history here. We’re giving the music industry a much-needed kick in the pants.” I was surrounded by people like Dave Brockie, Hunter Jackson, and Don Drakulich. All the core people were living in a shit-hole town, and we’d just gone through art school, and we were not happy with what they said was art, and we were not happy with what was passed off as music, which was bullshit. It was a total artificial construct by MTV and big corporations. We were all part of the underground fight.
We wanted to get our cynicism across. We didn’t like what was going on at the time, politically, with Ronald Reagan and the military buildup. And so, when we started to do GWAR, we were able to get out a lot of the topics that were bothering us. It was all completely new, like, here’s a band that actually does more than try to look pretty and pose on stage. We were going to try to look ugly and not be role models.
One of the things that made GWAR so special, but also gave it organizational problems, was that we never had an adult in the room. We were all a bunch of misfits, and we’re all cramming our ideas together. The fact that we had so much going on captured people’s attention. We thrived despite our disorganization.
How do I feel about having an impact? I’m so glad that we persevered and we kept trying. We stuck to it, and we had just a handful of people. We saved up our money, and we got a decent studio. I feel very instrumental in that because the studio was in my name from the beginning. In 1987, we got a decent GWAR space right across from the local underground rock venue, Rockitz. And we got an old school bus that we scuttled and repurposed, and we would go up and down the East Coast. Once people saw GWAR, they said, “Holy shit, this is completely different.” And it was completely different.
Have you talked to or connected with all of the guys who are still doing it? It sounds like they’ve been super supportive.
It’s astonishing to me because I left the band for a while and moved to New York back in 1997. Brockie had a lot of charisma, and he could be a wonderful leader. Fortunately, when they got back together, other members of the band, who are much more organized, got the reins and sort of changed things up. They were the ones who persevered.
That they still do it and have kept it up has really amazed me. And they’ve always welcomed me back. Back in like 2012, I got back with them, and it just fit like my costume fit. It felt like I’d never left. And I’m so glad I said, “Hell yeah!”
They loaned me some money I needed for my divorce; that was critical. I remember Brad (Derks) saying, “We’re family, you know, we don’t forget about each other.” And so, I’m very happy that I’ve had that family and that they’ve been able to help me.
It also has a particularly ironic ring that I have probably chopped off so many heads and surreptitiously spilled so many thousands of gallons of blood like a madman. Here, I am asking people to give blood. I just thought there was an interesting sort of irony to that. Thousands and thousands of people gave blood. My wife was the first person to run down and do it when she found out.
How do the next six months look for you? What is your timeline?
Well, I don’t have a crystal ball. My cancer is really, really aggressive. My liver and my kidneys are holding up, even though I’ve had it in my liver for over a year. I was supposed to be gone a long time ago.
The GWAR part of me doesn’t want to give up. The chemo, oh my god, did such a number on me—my mouth is so fucked up. I wish I’d never done it. The neuropathy that’s creeping up on me is scary. Eventually, the cancer has to take over. But you must go out on a good note. I don’t know how long I’ve got. I could have a couple of weeks or a couple of months. My organs are keeping me alive. It just seems like nerve damage is creeping up on me.
Could you talk a little bit about how important it is to have that support, even if you’re not going to beat the cancer?
The bills are piling up. And my wife is going to be stuck with a lot of the bills and a lot of the dealing with the funeral arrangements. I’m not going to bounce back from this. The real tactile things are like being able to pay for my care and quality of life while I’m still alive, and to be able to help my wife with the other expenses that have accrued from her being my caregiver and not being able to work.
This fundraiser could be the difference between her keeping our house and everything, so we’re not completely out of cash paying for the nurses. My 401(k) is getting sucked away pretty hard. So that’s it, to help pay for the nurses and help my wife support herself. She has been a saint. My nurses cost me close to $3,000 a week. The hospice covers one or two visits. For the last several months, that adds up. I don’t want my wife to have to sell the house or anything else because of bills. This fundraiser could be the difference.
Eventually, the cancer’s got to take over. My body won’t be able to keep up with the toll that the cancer is taking, and I’ll get sleepier and sleepier. As I understand how it runs its course, you kind of go into a sleepy mode for a couple of weeks until you breathe your last. I thought I was going to ride out the apocalypse, and that my wife and I would eventually be sharing a glass of Zinfandel laced with Nembutal—you know, some other euthanasia drug- and we’d die in each other’s arms. But that’s not how it’s going to work out.
The post “I Thought I Was Going To Ride Out the Apocalypse:” GWAR Co-Founder Chuck Varga On His Terminal Cancer Battle appeared first on Decibel Magazine.