“I have had it with these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane!”

Snakes on a Plane

Quite possibly the most entertaining movie I’ve watched this year. Thank you and have a nice day.

Gosh darnit, I hate having to fulfil my OCD quirk of having to write more than 500 words. Truth be told, how does one write a lengthy review about a movie you know already right from the title that it’ll feature snakes, and you guessed it, on a plane. The story is terribly simple: boy witnesses a brutal murder, boy becomes witness, person who did it is atypical Asian baddie and wants boy dead, tough as nails FBI agent is assigned to escort him to testify, highly amorous snakes are let loose, the passengers wage war on the cold blooded reptiles, they land the friggin’ plane and then they all live happily ever after. There’s no formula, no plot twists whatsoever, it goes from A to B and yet you still keep on watching even though you know the ending already.

For the life of me I still don’t know why Samuel L. Jackson put pen on paper and star in this B-movie masquerading as an A-list movie. But I am thankful, oh yes, if it weren’t for his trademark acting this movie would be on the bottom of even the most stupid C-movie pile. The other actors are so stiff it was fun seeing them get bitten on the boob, stabbed in the eye by a three-inch heel, and generally dying horrible yet comical deaths. And what the hell is wrong with them snakes? We all know that pheromones make male animals go extremely gaga but biting people on the jugular with pinpoint precision is a bit much don’t you think. The snakes would kill each other first, and then seek the stupid humans who are slathered in the frisky inducing scent. And can you actually land a real plane without the proper education, notwithstanding the fact that you’ve played a simulation of it for countless hours?

What’s that? Oh right, I forgot, it’s a movie.

The negatives are so bad that it actually is positives if you look at it properly. The acting is about as natural as Tara Reid’s chest attributes, the special effects are pretty decent, the storyline was probably drummed up by a pimply boy with a giant poster of some female wrestler in a tight fitting handkerchief, and the dialogue loaded with banal one-liners that they actually worked. But that’s the genius of it; you’re so offended and insulted by the absurdity that your brain shuts down for awhile and lets your funny bone be tickled pink.

The moral of the story? Doesn’t exist. Maybe kids will start playing flight simulator games. I don’t know. For sheer entertainment value this movie gets full marks. It takes quite a lot for me to laugh at movie jokes but this managed to get me chuckling and on occasion spurt out my chocolate milk. Through my nose. Sure maybe I lost some of my intelligence but it was for the sake of being entertained for one and a half hours. If there’s one movie to make your hypertension go down a little then this is it.

Iron Maiden – Dance of Death

I am not the world’s biggest Maiden fan. In fact, I can’t even consider myself a fan, not in the real sense of the word, anyway. You see, if you’re a fan of the band, then you’ll surely be in possession of most if not all of their albums. To be considered a fan you’d have to say that your favourite Maiden numbers are their classics: The Trooper, Killers, Phantom of the Opera and so on. Heck, you might even say that the classic Maiden line-up featuring Paul Dianno and whoever it was in the band at the time, is the best.

Not me.

Most metalheads would demand for my head for saying such blasphemous statements. Iron Maiden has some of the most fervent and loyal fans ever. After all, this is the band that helped shaped the music of heavy metal into what it is today. They’ve inspired countless bands and imitators. Some bands have come quite near though none seem into my mind currently so you’ll just have to accept my word for it. This is due to the fact that Maiden has a sound that whenever you hear even the first few chords, it is instantly and unmistakeably theirs.

So what is the Iron Maiden sound? It’s very simple: soaring vocals, beautiful arrangements, infectious melodies, sweeping solos and of course, the most annoying bass sound in heavy metal. All right, all right. Maybe not the most annoying but it certainly ranks high on the list. Put down that axe and hear me out first. I’ll try my best to justify my opinion. The bass in heavy metal is used primarily to boost the heaviness. It is also a part of the rhythm section together with the drums therefore mindless noodling on the bass is a big no-no when you’ve got the guitarist to do all the said noodling. I like it when everyone gets their instrument heard in the final mix. I go, “Ooo, there’s a double bass run,” and, “Ah, that’s a funky bassline there.” But when the bass is as annoying as Steve Harris’s then you’ve got a problem.

How do I describe the sound to someone who’s not heard it? Well, it’s sort of like garlic. I love garlic. I can eat a whole bulb provided it’s cooked right (raw garlic gives me gas). But when the garlic is overpowering the flavour of say, a lamb stew, then you’ve got yourself a dish that while is somewhat delicious, is also making you sick. It plods like a constipated elephant. It’s like a bridge that’s loose, held on only by duct tape. Steve Harris may be a good songwriter, at times subscribing to protraction and is slightly pompous, but by golly does he annoy me. On a good day, I may not be bothered by the obnoxious sound but that only happens rarely.

It’s a shame really because the material on this album is really good. I reiterate, I am not the world’s biggest fan of Maiden so if you find me gushing all over this then you can sod off. Where was I? Oh yes, the material. It opens with a somewhat catchy but forgettable track that is just a precursor to the first single, Rainmaker, a song with a silly video of silly men in silly costumes dancing in the, what else, rain. Montsegur is the “fast” ditty of the album, though it is marred only by sluggish drumming courtesy of bungalow-sized drumkit beater Nicko McBrain. McBrain is by no means a bad drummer, he’s good, knows when, what and where to hit the drums. It’s just that he’s slow. It’s the kind of slow that’s not too slow as to be almost plodding, but it’s slow enough to make you want to beat your fist on a freshly laid road. Paschendale is by far the most epic sounding Maiden song I’ve ever heard which would make any diehard fan feel faint and strangely murderous. It’s probably the only time I actually forgive Harris and his silly bass. The album then closes stronger than the start, which in many albums, is the way it should.

I may not be the world’s biggest Iron Maiden fan and frankly I couldn’t care less. I’d rather be the guy who likes this album very much.

Initial Rating: 7/10

Current Rating: 7/10

Chris’s Top 10 Metal Songs of 2006

What a year it has been for me. Without question this has been the most interesting year in terms of my music development. Yes, I say development simply because every time I listen to something new, be it a new band or an already established one with a new album, it becomes a lesson, a never-ending education and a journey of music. Sounds girly but oh well.

So without anymore ado that is sanely necessary, I present you, Chris’s Top 10 Metal Songs of 2006:

1. Deicide – Homage for Satan

Forget the stupid lyrics. Been there, killed Jesus yadda yadda. It’s not even remotely menacing or meaningful (for lack of a better word); it’s just a song with absolutely mindless lyrics. I used to hate, loathe, abhor, detested and other related synonyms Deicide. I thought Glen Benton was the silliest death metal vocalist (I still think he is) ever. The entire album you can hear him belching and squeal like a pig. But who gives a shit? Just listen to Ralph Santolla’s solo and you’ll understand why this is my choice for the number one metal song of 2006.

2. Mercenary – Lost Reality

The brutal Danish biscuits are back! I was a happy demonic bunny when news of their recent album said that while it doesn’t top their previous album, 11 Dreams, it does sound great. This song has dominated my playlist ever since I got it not too long ago and it jumped all the way to the second spot on the strength of the vocals and the harmonies. This is some top-notch stuff here people. Makes latter day Soilwork and In Flames sound like Incubus (they suck big time and all you Brandon Boyd fans out there can shoo off).

3. Vader – As Heavens Collide

I was close to writing these Polish legends off my list when they released the album preceding this. It was horrible. I was blown away when I first heard Wings which in my opinion is their best song EVER! but this plain sucked. When Doc (R.I.P dude) was unceremoniously ejected from the drummer’s chair, he was replaced by a drummer who I felt didn’t capture Doc’s imaginative and downright brutal style. So when this new album surfaced I thought what the heck, I’ll give these guys another go. It was like listening to Wings again. I was blown away only much further and harder. The opening drum and guitar assault of this makes me want to rip every single teddy bear in a department store. It’s that good.

4. Suffocation – Redemption

Frank Mullen may not possess anymore the deep, guttural, demonic rumble that scared me shitless when I was wee lad but he still manages to keep it low enough as opposed to the hoarse, vomit-sounding whisper of latter day Lord Worm (their last album was a big letdown vocally). What’s interesting about this song is that it’s not uncompromisingly brutal like Hate Eternal or blindingly fast like Deicide, it’s just simply mind-crushingly devastating.

5. Gadget – Day of the Vulture

I was never the biggest fan of grind. I love the godly Nasum (R.I.P Mieszko), the one-off genius of Terrorizer (I say one-off because I repudiate unreservedly the latest album), and I dig some Napalm Death. Clocking in at a lengthy 2:25 (it’s an eternity in grind terms), these four Danish madmen pound the listener unremittingly. Excellent if you’ve had a rough day and that My Chemical Romance sound rather pusillanimous (I like this word!) this is the song for you.

6. Zyklon – Vulture

While I read the reviews saying how brutal this song is I was salivating slightly. One of the better bands to have graduated from the school of Morbid Angel, this is off their 3^rd album. Initially, I was disappointed. I thought with a much better production and a tighter understanding of each other they would have upped the ante a little. Unfortunately, no. I’ve been spoilt rotten by all the brutal stuff lately and listening to this reminds me of Pantera; it’s brutal but not quite. Nevertheless it’s catchy and I love barking “Vulture!”

7. Yyrkoon – Signs

Oddly, this song is not even in the regular version of the album. It’s a bonus track off the digipak version. It’s a classic Yyrkoon song: drums hard-hitting, thrashy death metal riffs and features the distinct distorted vocals of Steph. It’s basically—I dare say—an all out “fun-sounding” death metal song.

8. DragonForce – Through the Fire and Flames

Hahahaha! The band’s name itself always elicits a derisive girly giggle from me. How can you respect a band that obviously revels in being goofy, fantastical and bloody fast all at the same time? Screw the respect, just headbang wildly and haphazardly. Old women watch out!

9. Arsis – I Speak Through Shadows

Unholy fruitcake of Beelzebub! For all you people who think that current American metal is Trivium and Lamb of God, think again. Think real hard. Arsis is a two-man band and they’ve put out the most harsh-sounding melodic death metal record of the year and this song is the best of the bunch. The end alone makes me want to thrash wildly and snip off my neighbours flowers. It’s that good.

10. Slayer – Cult

When I first heard this I was thoroughly disappointed. I thought that since Dave Lombardo is back on the skin-beating throne, the drumming would be top class. Marred by a horrible kick-drum sound (it sounds like rapid mouse clicks), Cult is yet another religion bashing, religion hating, thrash ditty that surprisingly gets better with more listens. It’s only the list because I don’t have many albums from 2006 and Iron Maiden’s latest is too patchy at times.

So there you have it. There’s not much variety I know since almost half of it is death metal but this year saw me rekindle my fervid fixation of all things mindlessly brutal.

Till then, I welcome 2007 with the devil horns!

Cornetto Love? Perhaps Blah Blah Bleh

The middle one is my favourite. Nice, um, accent.

"I tried my best and I have no regrets at all."

No, this isn’t about that dude who single-handedly cemented the fate of all Chinese geeks that they can’t sing for shit but rather my attempts at attracting the opposite sex (I’ve gotten some looks from gay men before and it’s really not the most pleasant feeling in the world). This is about a show which has just concluded and declared its “winners”. A series with more twist than Twisties, the show had garnered a loyal following of about a dozen people and all of them were on the show.

Would I enter a contest—a show on TV—to find love? I can’t really say for sure. My personal opinion is that these kinds of shows merely perpetrate the notion of finding love rather than cultivating it. How can any sane, gorgeous, smart and oh so lovely woman, choose a guy after 12 episodes? These guys have to strut, play the fool, entertain like a court jester, charm like snake charmer to win their way into the heart of their desired woman. It’s like how animals want to reproduce. Female peacocks don’t choose the more caring males who are sensitive, they choose the male that can impress them the most. The bigger the tail, the better.

We’ve finally reached the end of Cornetto’s Love? Perhaps. A show that had built itself considerable suspense and enough intrigue to keep most people interested but the grand finale, the shocking climax, ended up being the mother of anticlimaxes. It was humdrum at its most humdrum. Nothing surprised me. It was all way too much and far too little. It’s a show that is both silly and puzzling and somewhat demeaning. Oh yes, there was the obligatory back-stabbing, clandestine alliances, and the gorgeous host who tried in desperation to keep the wheels of suspense turning even though it was flat right from the get-go. She’s gorgeous all right but really, she should be doing something else other than hosting.

One of the taglines of the show was “Play the game of love and be a winner,” or something to that fact, I don’t really remember on account of the absurdity of it all and me watching Amazing Race. But is love a game? Personally, I would never call it that. I’m pretty old-fashioned when it comes to the matters of the heart even though I’m a metalhead with one of the metal of hearts.

Imagine if you’re the “winner”. What are you going to say to people, that I won a goddamn show and here’s my girlfriend who’s also the grand prize? But let’s stop for a while and eat my year’s supply of Cornetto’s. Would you be yourself?

A previous post of mine mentioned that:

I would I guess what I’m trying to say is that 99% of the time I’m very glad that my money is all mine to spend, but when the 1% does happen, I do wish I had a special someone to share it with.

Thanks to Lia, the above is juvenile and silly and I didn’t think it through properly. The meaning was there, it was just worded in the most ghastly of sentences. You guys get the gist, right?

Here’s to the next season. 

Chimaira – Chimaira

American Karate. American Football. American Beauty. Ugh, the last one kind of doesn’t make sense.

What do those things have in common? What did you say? No, it’s not Bush and another gaffe but the fact that the word American is affixed to the front to describe a certain entity that is as American as to what anime is Japanese. When you say karate, you think of Japanese men with their long hair bundled neatly into a bun with their arms and legs poised to attack. When you say football, people around the world think of Manchester United (Yeah baby!), Brazil, Pele, and of course, David Beckham’s impeccable dress sense and girly voice. But when you see the American in American Karate is becomes a new beast. Instead of buns of hair you have mullets and a strong fondness for Rocky Mountain oysters. American Football is of course the only sport in the world celebrated in only one part of the world, America.

But what we have here ladies and rough-men is called American Metal. Quite simply put, American Metal is what Pantera is what Judas Priest is to metal. American Metal is a subgenre of metal characterised by its innate chugga-chugganess, harsh vocals (a cross between drunk and growling) and riffs reminiscent the Swedish Melodic Metal scene and of course, American sensibilities.

Chimaira, alongside Lamb of God and um, Trivium are the current leaders leading the American metal scene. What this means is that these bands have harsh vocals a teenage girl is capable of producing, melody lines that haven’t been cool for the last 10 years and generally disliked by more experienced, angrier-looking and truer metalheads. Yours truly, on the other hand, doesn’t give a flying shit about being true; if I hear something nice to my ears then I’ll say it’s nice.

Vocalist Mark Hunter has probably one of the most annoying voices in modern metal. Every time I hear his voice I am reminded of eunuchs before they became eunuchs. He’s a grown man, six-feet-tall, sports a mean-looking nose ring yet he sounds like a high school girl who took testosterone pills instead of those pills. The music is simple: growl here, growl there, somewhat catchy chorus, rehashed Metallica solos, end of song, NEXT! The biggest problem this album has is strangely their strongest element: the metalness. In their valiant attempt of trying to prove to the big boys that hey, we are metal godsdamnit! and we’re not like Slipknot! they’ve taken upon themselves to be as angry and tough as they can be. Sadly, those moments are few and unsatisfactory. Opener Nothing Remains merely hints as to what may from these Oakland natives. It is mid-pace, with the drummer initiating a tribal groove before the fade-in effects kick-in and there you have it, Chimaira’s transformation from pseudo metal punks to bona fide metal mongers. The rest of the album follows a strict formula that works occasionally.

Somewhat major gripe: When you have Kevin Talley, who in my opinion is the new drum god, you’re not supposed restrain him. He’s a hard-hitting, don’t give two shits, bloody fast drummer who in his previous stint as Dying Fetus’s skinbasher, pummelled the listener while at the same time executing highly technical chops with panache of a bear in a tutu. It’s like asking Jackie Chan to be careful when he jumps from a two-storey building. To him, it’s like skipping rope!

I think Chimaira hoped that this album would be their ticket to metal stardom. Wrong. While the direction they’re heading is the right one, they’ve got quite a long way to go before they can release their own Reign in Blood or Master of Puppets. Better luck next time guys.

Initial Review: 6/10

Current Review: 5/10