Not a day without a line
Mix Tape, and the currently avaliable Astoria singles Black Sabbath (intro) and Resistansen, are reviewed over on Derik A. Badman’s terrific Madinkbeard site!
A keen observer, Derik notes: “Like the songs on a well-crafted mix tape, the images have their own separate identity, yet, by placing in juxtaposition, the reader (listener) attributes some meaning to the choices and ordering.”
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Tags: derik badman, Madinkbeard, Mix Tape
A few days ago I dug out my Entombed records in search of some good inking music. As always I was blown away by the crude power of their music, and their way of infusing new life into old favorites.
Especially their cover of Kiss’ God of Thunder socked me in the face with the simple riff and deliciously idiotic lyrics. I was never a Kiss fan, and always thought that somehow their music didn’t add up to the band’s image.
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I’m stuffing new music onto the iPod on a daily basis, changing around allthe time. The music I play the most at the moment is old rediscoveries from the back of shelves, and some new favorites, sorted below by band, then album:
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Tags: 80's metal, 90's metal, Alice in Chains, Anthrax, Battle of Mice, megadeth, Metallica, Pantera
There is a deep current of pop culture rebellion running through comics, especially of course in the underground scene. It’s only natural, then, that comics would sooner or later embrace the most extreme, antagonistic cultural movement of the late 20th century. A little surprising even that the comic Black Metal didn’t see publication until 2007, but that is apparently the time it took the (peripheral) mainstream to absorb the dark, angular matter.
Black Metal (the comic) is of course mainstream; it’s out on ONI Press rather than DIY photocopied booklets, for Odin’s sake! Writer Rick Spears and artist Chuck BB display enough kvlt coinaissance to convince that they aren’t scene stealers, however; even as they pull off a storyline that could be described as Bill & Ted in corpsepaint, there is a genuine sympathy for the main characters.
These leads are evil twins Sam and Shawn Stronghand, who in their solemn and nihilist struggle through junior high school existence come upon (and play backwards) a vinyl recording of the trve and unrelentingly otherworldly Frost Axe. By so doing, they summon a demon from the Pit, guarding the magic sword Atoll.
A sword that can only be wielded by the Roth, long dead baron of Hell … and Sam & Shawn, of course, since they are the split reincarnation of that infernal nobleman. It doesn’t make much sense, nor does their quest to settle scores with the rival Hell baron who once killed the Roth.
And who cares? The attraction of Black Metal lies in the heart and soul that is ironically invested in the brothers.
Despite their insistence on evil principles they remain teenagers at their core, and the story development deals with first loves and a growing acceptance of booger-eating half brothers, as much as with their battle with lesser evils.
That places the tale squarely in the territory of TIC rock comedies like Wayne’s World and the aforementioned B&T movies, but Spears and BB ensure their street (or fjell) credibility by planting references to black metal bands and the general bleak vision that surrounds the genre.
Still, there is a grownup’s amusement to the way the Stronghand twins are portrayed: As a-bit-too-solemn, almost gullible in their convictions as only pre-teens eagerly, desperately faking cool can be. Once again, the Bill & Ted factor of smirking at the protagonists while laughing with them 
As such, the infusion of ice cold, nihilist (although mockingly so) black metal into that worn formula also breathes new life into it, and reminds we aged readers of what attracted us to it, apart from the misperceptions that Steve Vai was shit hot and that god gave rock’n'roll to Kiss.
Black metal being the purist art form that it is, however, we must define this as USBM – obviously, since it isn’t so self-denying as to be void of humor, and the use of genre as a means to an end rather than the musical expression of Ragnarok speaks for itself, too.
Personally, I could care less about the elitist aspects of the black metal scene, and quite clearly recognize Sam and Shawn’s posing from the endless stream of self-important bandshots in my old issues of Terrorizer Magazine.
What it all comes down to is that Black Metal is a book cunningly crafted with equal insight in genre, character, and staging. It is highly recommended anyone with the slightest inclination to metal, or to the jittery antics of obnoxious teens, or the black metal scene where the two join at the hip.
Tags: Black Metal, Chuck BB, ONI Press, Richie Spears, Rick Spears
Given a rare chance to switch music on the old iPod, I gave in and reloaded Jex Thoth’s eponymous debut. It’s only a couple weeks ago that I removed it because I hadn’t heard much else for a month or so, and I was afraid I’d wear it out.
My current schedule is really cramped at the moment (6 hrs transportation a day, 4 days a week!) and I suppose I’m not exactly in an extreme metal mood, especially not with the amount of coffee coursing through my body. Ergo, the more spazzed out bands went in favor of Ms Thoth and her henchmen.
When first I heard the album I was a bit wary, but from second sitting onward I was hooked on their special (although not exactly unique) brand of back-to-the-roots downer rock.
My first association was to Black Sabbath, and I could easily imagine Jex Thoth to have come out right on the heels of that particular nexus in modern music. Like Sabbath, their music is heavy and proto-metallic, but definitely more influenced by rock and blues than by the genre that grew into metal.
Apart from the simple yet effectively sluggish riffs that invoke a time less occupied with shredding guitars, it is the unabashed use of Hammond organ that gets me thinking of late sixties (heavy) music. I’ve never been a Doors fan because I’m more than a little annoyed by Morrison’s art posturings, but I do apppreciate the creepier aspects of the organ sound.
Jex Thoth is also mining the back catalog of bands less known to me for inspiration, like Black Widow and Pagan Altar, which I’ve obviously had to investigate, too. There is no bit of plagiarism that I can detect, I hasten to add. But certain moods and general sounds are echoed on Jex Thoth (the album) and for me that spill of primitive doom has hit a dry spot.
I say “primitive”; My Brother The Musician was less kind. He noted that if they were a local upcoming band he would have urged them back to the rehearsal room.
In a sense, I like to think that the band and I share an affinity for looking back at points of divergence in the developments of our chosen media, and use them as inspirations for almost contrafact experimenting, like I try with a couple of the Astoria pieces.
Through all this, I have been sidestepping the big forte of the band’s sound — Jex Thoth the vocalist’s evocative performance. The fact that she has been compared to one Janis Joplin (which is a bit of a stretch) only emphasizes my point of their music being closely tied to 60′s and 70′s movements.
Whether she is a schooled singer or not, her expressive singing conveys a lot of emotion with a minimum of bravado. And although there is a trend for female singers in heavy music these days, I don’t recall hearing one that is so uniquely her own before, without leaning on the mannerisms of male Death Metal vocalists, or Björk, or Broadway musicals (foad, Nightwish!)
At the moment, I’m having trouble finding much enthusiasm for any music, but even so Jex Thoth – the band, the singer, and the album – are one thing that I return to in this torrent of early mornings and changing trains that is my life right now.
It’s way overdue that I start working on my fan art for Kim WAndersson’s Love Hurts website (book out in April!), and it seems something hatched in my head during today’s lunch break.
The hook ‘Love Hurts, but who’s crying’ has been sitting in the back of my head more or less since day one, but I didn’t really make the right connection until now.
Given my inclination to all things heavy and/or metal, it was obvious that the piece should pay tribute to Megadeth’s classic “Peace sells, but who’s buying?” cover, in picture as well as wording.
Preliminary sketches below. In the first I was just jotting the general setting down from memory, while the second is done after digging out the actual album for reference.
Tags: kim w andersson, love hurts, megadeth, Sketch of the Day, tribute
How a metal band from Brooklyn summed up Black Mouth in song – before it was conceived.
Tags: fortuity, lyrics, Type O Negative
Sitting on the train, there’re two birds on my desktop; Songbird singing sweet music in my ear, (Red Sparowes, no less!) and the Zoundry Raven on which I type this. Being offline right now, I’ll have to resort to the phone to give out a tweet myself. The hardships one has to endure!
I got on the train 15 mins early, which is just enough time for me to power up the computer, sip some coffee, and regret that I didn’t buy a larger cup. A couple minutes late (but not canceled) we rumble out of Malmö, onto the prairie that is the central Öresund region, literally bridging Sweden and Denmark.
Seen from the train, the area between Malmö and Copenhagen central stations is largely composed of gravel heaps, waste fields dotted by a few barren trees, and concrete armaments lining the tracks in an inperceivable pattern. The bridge is another matter.
If not for the massive construction of steel and concrete surrounding the trasin as we flash across the sound, it would be like flying. It’s hard to ignore what was the worlds largest hanging bridge when it was constructed, though. But I try. Looking out instead through the morning fog at the huge windmill park rising, by the looks of it, directly out of the water.
Swallow hard a few seconds later to unclog my ears as we drive through the tunnel that is the western half of the Öresund connection, the afterimage of the huge, distant propellers still on my retina (along with those burst blood vessels and scars from scratches that roll around my field of vision, coming into focus when I focus on nothing at all).
The CPH airport is a bustling centre of self-important suits traveling through and blue-collars waitiing to get home from the night shift; trolley drivers, baggage handlers, char men and women, a few red-eye pilots and stewards in transit to their hotels. Sip the last coffee, now cold.
Bustling in that sluggish, always waiting for the next plane, airport kind of way, it is of course just another bunker in the middle of a field. More gravel, more angular, massive concrete blocks. Which brings us to Ørestad station, an excuse to build a shopping mall smack in the middle of anothe field. That’s what they named it, too. “Field’s.”
More fields, a shooting range, Tårnby station that is the redneck capital of Copenhagen. Ensuring that the Öresund trains have a representative social span for passengers, balancing the posh coastal stations north of the city. Thank your gods for Tårnby, as long as you don’t have to sit next to the natives.
Copenhagen Central, a bit of a wait, then shut down the computer and get off at Nørreport (a hole in the ground, and one of the most used stations in Denmark). Then a ten min stroll to work, brew some more coffee and graphic the day away. Thank you for traveling public today
Since my regular feature, the daily sketches, have been on hiatus for a couple of days, I thought I'd keep you guys updated on my recent goings-on. In less than a month, Ill be starting my working sabbatical, during which the dirty work on Astoria will be done. I am trying to get my stuff at Gimle Studio packed and put into storage while I'm away at Serieskolan (the Malmö Comic School), where I'll be hanging my hat for the next year or so.
I have prepared a little something for the 50th issue of Danish monthly soon-to-be quarterly Free Comics, and that will likely be my last recess before I've finished Astoria. Sketches of the FC50-short may be up soon, or not. Depends, whether I'll have time to scan them.
The kids are vacationing with their grandparents for the next week and a ½, and I try to make the best of the extra time that affords me, work-wise and off duty. I get a lot of reading done, and I think I've reached the bottom of my accumulated comic pile. Finished Kirby's Kamandi recently (a patchy collection of the original magazines, but all goodness), and will soon be digging into a 1875 book by Kersey Graves, entitled "The World's Sixteen Crucified Saviours" that I found on Sacred-Texts.com. That is research for "Passion" that will be a (brainier) part of Astoria. In short, it treads the same path as Joseph Campbell's "Hero with a 1000 Faces", only focusing on the common traits of, well, sixteen different deities that have suffered on crosses, poles, trees, etc in a rite of transcendence.
Further Astoria research, specifically, for the segment "Great Old Ones", was my attempt to read Edward Tufte's "Envisioning Information", which slowed to a halt after a frustratingly chatty first chapter. Tufte is a widely learned gentleman, to be sure, and his writing (in "Envisioning…") is anecdotical, starting way off center, probably to narrow in on the subject at hand. In my case, looking for hard fact, instruction, and guidance, that method was a bit of a turnoff and ultimately left the book collecting dust on a shelf. I figure his "" may be the actual motherlode that I'll turn to eventually.
For recreation, I am reading the first book of the Danish "Erotikens Historie" by Brusendorff and Henningsen. I'd translate the title, but it hardly seems necessary; it means exactly what you think it does. This short volume tackles eroticism in ancient Greece and Rome, as handed down in prose, poetry, and art, delivered through the culturally (and sexually) liberated intellectual circles of Europe in the 30ies (1st edition) and 60ies (2nd ed.). A little reminder that the current, Puritan era has only lasted for a couple hundred years; before that, sexual 'politics' were not only less restrained, but also wholly different from what is generally accepted today.
And the music, not to be ignored! Lately, I have been listening A LOT to "The Bees Made Honey in the Lion's Skull" by Earth, who inspired the mighty SunnO))) as wellas a dirge of less inspired drone/doom-bands. On this and previous album, "HEX (or Printing in the Infernal Method)", the band have taken on a much "cleaner", more melodic sound, painting a prairie of resounding experience with their instrumental compositions. Quietly, calmly psychedelic, like eating sweet peaches in the sun.
Also playing are Gallhammer, the evilest little Japanese girls I have yet to hear, and Black Dahlia Murder, who just kick ass, and don't mince words about it.
That's it for now – I'll get some sketches up again once I've accustomed myself to being temporarily without children
Tags: Astoria, comic, currently reading, heavy metal, update
The countdown clock is ticking for this year’s Danish comic festival, Komiks.dk, held on May 31st and June 1st.
Like previous years, I have been invited to participate, and once again, I find myself wonderfullly under-utilized and free to do whatever I want. Which usually amounts to hanging out with colleagues during and after opening hours.
One signing of Black Mouth is scheduled on Sunday June 1st (at the Faraos Cigarer stall), but there will probably be another on Saturday at the Brun Blomst stall. Otherwise I will be at Gimle Studio’s booth most of the time, doodling, humming, having a laugh.. Wasting time. The usual.
Lest we forget the other guests, the festival has managed to attract such alternative (ie, non-superhero, non-duck and off-mainstream bande-desinées) creators as have been lacking in previous years. David B (Epileptic, Babel), Martin tom Dieck (Der Unschuldige Passagier, Hundert Ansichten der Speicherstadt) and theorist Thierry Groensteen are attending this year, along with more reader-friendly Italian fumettioli (is that a word?) Barbucci & Canepa (Sky Doll) and Duck-maestro Giorgio Cavazzano.
I make light of the fact that I haven’t been callled to participate in panels and such, but I can’t help noticing that my book has been casually omitted from the shortlist for the grand prize of the festival. The decision has to do with the publication date, I’m told, but books published on the same date have been taken into consideration, and I suspect there are other motives to the lapse. My publisher was told off the record that Black Mouth has had enough media coverage as it is, and it is true that I went on national tv twice in promotion of the book.
Well, pardon me for getting air time. I’m sorry for getting good reviews. And I’m terribly sorry that the nominators of the festival don’t see that as a value. Really. But one mustn’t forget that the festival at this point is a non-profit event, and the people behind it, enthusiast grassroots. For their effort and engagement, I salute them.