Excerpt from the one and only review God Analog guitarist “X” received.
Used with permission from “Music I Like and Everything Else” author Mitch Sugarman.
I’ve written before about some so-called “musicians” and took the “less-said-the-better” approach. In the case of acoustic death metal act “Festering Pig Sore,” and their unique mix of acoustic beauty and utterly confounding Black Metal ear-rapery, I find such an approach doesn’t give enough credit where it is due, nor does it provide a detailed enough warning. “Festering Pig Sore” is made up of three members;
- Guitarist and vocalist, “X,” a white mask with a black “X” on it that looks strikingly similar to a certain psychologist-y named superhero.
- Second guitarist… uh… Honestly, I never heard his name and he left before I could ask it. Let’s just say that he bore a very striking resemblance to Willie Nelson, only, with no hair and he wore purple sunglasses (inside… at night).
- And finally, drummer Benny “Spud” Knowles. He was entirely average looking and made no impression on me.
SO!… I think it’s pretty self evident that I did not enjoy the band’s two song “set.”
In fact, I hated it. All SIXTY-FIVE MINUTES of it.
You read that right. Two, and only two, songs were played during their abortion of a show.
And what a show it was!
Where do I start?
Why start with “The Good?” Because, frankly, it is the shorter of the two lists and I want to get it over with so I can begin to purge the memory of “The Bad” from my poor, traumatized brain.
1. Guitarist “X” is stellar. Can you believe that? This man is a genius on the guitar. I’m actually not being sarcastic or sardonic.
That’s it though. One point. Shall we get on with it then?
Oh god. Oh man. Oh god. Oh man. Okay. Calm yourself, Mitchy… whew. Let’s get this done.
1. The first song began with a gorgeous Flamenco guitar piece courtesy of “X.” This was quickly turned into “The Bad” though when he began punishing his poor guitar with a relentless metal beat… still acoustic though… and just shouted “Blood!” at the top of his lungs over and over again.
2. The second song. It sounded almost identical to the first… except now “X” began to scream “FATHER! FATHER! WHY DIDN’T YOU LOVE ME?! WHY?! WHY?!” and some other gibberish.
3. Drummer “Spud” pulled out his phone and began texting around the 20 minute mark. The problem? He was still supposed to be playing. So instead of any sort of steady beat, he ended up hitting some drums, phonephonephone, drums, phonephonephonephone. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t an emergency either, as more than once, I watched “Spud” pose, take a selfie (with the flash on, no less), EDIT THE GODDAMN THING and then smile like an idiot!
4. Roughly forty minutes in, the crowd dwindled to only myself, and three other people. A charming gay couple named Larry and Bob (who I’ve actually become good friends with! Maybe this should count as a “The Good” too?) and a sixty-five year old Caucasian woman with more hair on her knuckles than I have on my chest. Since I didn’t bother to get her name, let’s just call her “Knuckle Hair.” Okay, so roughly forty minutes into the show, Knuckle Hair began searching through her backpack that looked almost as old as she did. From it, she pulled out A GODDAMN feather headdress and approached the stage. I pinched myself to be sure that I wasn’t stuck in a nightmare at this point, as Knuckle Hair then began to do what I can only describe as interpretive dance. It was only at this time that I was able to tear my eyes from the biological trainwreck/broken condom that was “Spud” and what I saw, I will remember for the rest of my days… The second guitarist (The Willie Nelson looking guy? Remember?) wasn’t using a pick or a slide or whatever the hell guitarists normally use to pluck strings. What he held and kind of flopped across his fretboard was, I later learned, a homemade marital aid shaped to appear like an amalgamation of a unicorn and Queen Elizabeth I.
5. The show ended abruptly with “Spud” just kind of… getting up and walking off-stage. Dick-tarist Willie Nelson guy followed shortly after, though, he was actually escorted off-stage by a nurse and “X” eventually just … stared silently at the “audience,” looming with his imposing physique. No one clapped. And Knuckle Hair was still dancing when “X” finally said, in a surprisingly charming voice “Thank you! Be sure to grab a copy of our CD “Stumbling Blindly With Blood In My Throat” on your way out! G’night, guys!”
...I… I don’t really know what else to say. For those of you still reading at this point (and I wouldn’t blame you for abandoning this particular review 5 words in…), I am ashamed to admit that I DID take a copy of Violence Unplugged’s CD. I have not dared to listen to it, but I have the feeling that someday, like souvenirs of other travesties committed against Humankind… I might be able to sell it on Ebay or something.
Until next time,
Keep listening to what I like!