Friday, April 29, 2011

Eat like a King!

As those of you who know me know already, and those of you who don't won't care about, I recently transformed by diet to a vegan one.

Old friends look at me in horror, touch my arm lightly, and ask me if I am ok. What happened, they ask, to that guy who would eat a sausage roll and Big M, and declare himself the happiest man on Earth?

Seriously, it isn't that hard, for one simple but powerful reason: garlic bread.

You know the stuff, that cheap rubbish from Woolworths, wrapped in tin foil. Delicious and, it turns out, totally vegan.

It really is the food of life and would, I imagine, allow someone to subsist on it solely for the course of one's natural life.

What else does one need other than delicious carbohydrates, essential oils and...herbs?

So next meal, drop those pesky chickpeas, that salad that you pretend to love, laughing hysterically as you shovel it in your mouth, hoping to God that it will end soon. Forget those lentils that look like someone vomited after a big night. And, for christ sake, drop that fuckin burger.

What else could one possibly want other than lashings of garlic bread, soy milk, a movie, and something soft and comfy to sit on? Other than a sausage roll and a Big M, fuck all.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Brass Knuckles and a Two by Four

Sometimes when I'm riding, whether it be racing or training, I think about my dad who died last year. Strung out, gasping for breath, heart rate well into the red zone; I try and picture him laying in bed, unable to do much more than move his head.

But no matter what i do on the bike, how hard and far i push, no matter how much i vomit, i know that Dad, at the end, had it rougher. The degeneration of the body is infinitely harder to experience, I imagine, than to push it to its limits.

Dad used to see me come home from a hard ride, often I would be speechless and trembling from exertion, and would usually just look at me and say: "You're a silly bastard, dunno why you do that to yourself."

Maybe it's to confirm I'm alive.

Dad listened to Blondie. Dunno why he did that to himself, silly bastard.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

It's just rock and roll

I know a bunch of people who are members of a local Jugend. Strange folks. I never understood the appeal, partly cos i was busy sowing Obituary patches on my denim jackets. That said, and I was never one to claim otherwise, you can't argue with a song this catchy.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Clear Nights

So Brendan just reminded me of the time capsule potential of youtube.

Two shows i was at, two of my favourite nights, well, ever.

Sweet death metal, at the height of my obsession for this band:

And grindcore. All vegans it might be noted.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

The Perrenial Quest

Death metal started when kids in the late eighties heard thrash and wanted to make it more aggressive. A few years before, a band called Possessed, probably the first proto-death metal band, burst onto the Californian scene, Dead Kennedy shirts all torn, and blew thrash away before it had even picked up steam.

Raw, fast songs, with throaty vocals were the name of the game and Possessed's first album, Seven Churches, is a cult classic and considered by most as the first Death metal album.

Then came Death. While Possessed might have anticipated the genre, Death made it their own. Fronted by Chuck Schuldiner, with a whole heap of session musicians, Death fucking slayed. From their first album Scream Bloody Gore, to their last, The Sound of Perseverance, they were consistently interesting, dynamic and heavy as fuck.

This is one of my favourite songs of all time:

In 2001, Chuck Schuldiner died of brain cancer. Generally speaking, I'm not one for idols or heroes, especially musicians. But Chuck, indirectly, changed my life. Death metal would not be the same without him and, without death metal, i know i would have a different outlook on thing. For better or for worse, thems the facts. His music, which was perhaps one of my first experiences of a borderline transcendental experience, had inspired millions of people across the world. As evidence listen to the solo about six and half minutes in. This is no heavy metal cock show. This is something else.

I'm the first to scoff at sentiments like this. It's kinda odd to see them written down by me. I guess it stems from wanting the unknown guys to be known. We hear about Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Hendrix, hell, even Kurt Cobain as having moved people. Well, Chuck moved me, more than any dude who plays a fucking guitar ever has.

Fucking, get into it.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Let's Take The First Bus Outta Here!

I consider myself a city person but, occasionally, and usually after having ridden out there, I can totally imagine myself living in the country.

If I'm totally honest with myself though, a large part of it, is due to my desire to grow my hair back, become a hermit, write terrible existential prose, and prance around the country side wearing corpse paint.

Friday, April 8, 2011

The garden sighs, the flowers die

While my haircut says otherwise, I still fucking love overblown metal. One such band that I haven't really spoken about much is the band Opeth. Despised by some as being overly pompous, loved by others for having a Frank Zappa like eclectic-ness (is that a word?) they sure as hell don't fence sit.

If you're into the clean/death vocal dynamic, then Opeth is pretty much your go to band. Seeing them live can be an interesting experience. Stuck with a song you don't like, you have at least ten minutes to sit through. Get a favourite though, and you will be sucked away to an almost timeless place, where sweet riffage and folk imagery is all that counts.

Sure, maybe this sounds like classic metalhead fare (whoaa dude, heavvyyyyy) but, you know what, fuck ya.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Funny Friends

Brendan has once again outdone himself with a new 'Ask Mr. B' section in his blog and, true to form, is already bringing the lolz.

The question i will send in will be as follows:

Dear Mr. B.

How do you think my road season will pan out? Mediocre, or just shit?

I promise this is the last time i mention Brendan for a while. Sometimes a dude just can't help himself.