Butcher Babies (Heavy Metal)



The name, the name, the name just offends the hell out of my conditioned morality, but could the name be an indictment against the government of my beloved nation?  The music, the music, the music just mellows the hell out of me. Literally. I love this shit. Labels be damned. I read on the internet that Carl Jung said that screaming could never be musical. On many things that Mr. Jung reported, I have little to quarrel with.  On screaming being musical, I offer Butcher Babies as to my side of the disagreement. To be fair to Mr. Jung, he never got to listen to Butcher Babies.

I also read on the internet that Heavy Metal actually soothes and relaxes the listener according to scientific experiments. I love science like I love Democracy and Religion when it supports my preconceived ideas and feelings of my perspective. It is often said that the truth will make one cry, but rarely is it said that it will make you laugh and when truth pasts wailing into laughter than truth has made its aim.

Listen to the Music.


And yes, I adore cleavage.


Butcher Babies links




Smiling Dead

Where opinion rules
The sharpest chisel wins
The blood of truth drains
The spirit into the Devil’s
lake of confusion

Facts become idols
to a shivering junkie
seeking that true warm
fact filled needle.

He wanders the streets
seeking his fix
with plenty of money
and pushers to oblige

He hits Main Street
All the usual suspects there
pushing bad dope that
leaves him cold and clammy

He hits Wall Street
It’s the best looking dope
He has seen in weeks
When he cooks it
It disintegrates.

He hits the hood
The dope left him desperate,
depressed and hopeless
with no withdrawals.

He hits the suburbs
The dope felt great
but blinded him and
made him deaf

He hit the park
Lying naked, bruised and
violated he was later found
with a needle dangling from his arm.

Smiling Dead.








Cloud Nothings (Live Action Report)

There is a part of me that would love to say that the reason that I was backstage to take this photo was because the band knew who I am, but reality differs. I just happened to be drunk enough to open a door that hid a few stairs that led to a little corner of the backstage.

I’m grateful for friends that endure my folly. The Dr. wears a crown when it comes to this and he beautifully refuses the thorns. A king he is. Truly he is.

I received a text from the Dr. earlier this month asking me if I would like to go see Cloud Nothings. I answered yes then asked if he would like for me to get tickets. He said yes, and a week or so later I sent him a pic of the tickets when they arrived through the mail. That was all that we communicated til a couple of days before the show and he asked if we should score a place to stay after the show. I answered that it was probably a good idea. A day later he texts me that he scored us a place. That was all the planning it took until the day of the show. I didn’t worry bout anything. If I had to drive that was fine, and if I didn’t it was fine. I knew to get two Gatorades, smokes, beer and some liquor. And to pack some clothes. That was it. We talked on the phone about 6 hours before the show and The Dr. picked me up and we drove to our lodging for the evening.

The lodging blew me away. The entrance is gated. The Dr. has a friend that hooked us up with a night at a yacht club. The hosts there were wonderful as the amenities there. Just a wonderful experience for a blue collar guy as myself.

As we got adjusted to our lodging, we discussed using Uber to get us to and from the show, that way we both could drink and not worry about driving drunk. The Dr. told me that his friend that set up the lodging would like to meet us for drinks before we go to the show. I thought nothing of it and said,”sure”.  Any friend of the Dr. has to be top shelf so it was a no-brainer.  After talking to his friend, the Dr. informed that his friend would like to drive us to the show. From then on his friend became St Francis to me.

We met for drinks at the bar in the club and St Francis was a pleasure to be around from the start. He was completely comfortable to be in company with. I drank to much scotch here. The rest of the evening is somewhat a blur. I did recall St. Francis telling me about Eric Hoffer.  Erick Hoffer was a longshoreman that wrote very well. He is now an important part of my own self-education.

We stopped at the pizza joint across the street from The Beachland Ballroom. I remember eating a slice of pie that made me cherish the clammy dough and cold cheese from a Steubenville Pizza.  To be fair to the pizza chefs at this establishment, the scotch may have fogged my taste buds and memory.

Now on to the show. The Beachland Ballroom is like a much larger version of The Grog Shop. I was impressed. There are two bar areas and the area to watch acts perform holds about the size of a regulation basketball court of standing room only. The show was sold out, but it wasn’t crazy packed. I watched one of the opening acts and it was the kind of music that would be played at a rave. It was energetic and conducive to moderate moshing. I didn’t spend much time watching the act. There was plenty of room at the bar, so I spent more time drinking there, and enjoying the company.

When Cloud Nothings came on, I was wasted. Not proud or ashamed, it is just a fact. They rocked the house and I moshed in the pit. I remember that much. I remember St Francis showing up to give us a ride back to our lodging for the night.

I don’t think that I will be drinking scotch anytime soon.

If you get a chance to see Cloud Nothings as they are currently touring the US and Europe than I encourage you to do so. Jason Gerycz is one of the best drummers alive right now.

Cloud Nothings tour info

“It has often been said that power corrupts. But it is perhaps equally important to realize that weakness, too, corrupts. Power corrupts the few, while weakness corrupts the many. Hatred, malice, rudeness, intolerance, and suspicion are the faults of weakness. The resentment of the weak does not spring from any injustice done to them but from their sense of inadequacy and impotence. We cannot win the weak by sharing our wealth with them. They feel our generosity as oppression.”
― Eric Hoffer