The Domestic Terrorist - On The Rock N Roll

“Let There Be Rock”

First things first, to understand Metal, you need to appreciate the following works of art. You don’t need to know them intimately, just at least know roughly something about them.

Hysteria. Def Leppard.
Open Up And Say Ahh…. Poison.
Bark At The Moon. Ozzy Osborne.
No Remorse. Motorhead.
Live Without A Net (video). Van Halen.
Live After Death. Iron Maiden. ^
Cherry Pie. Warrant.
New Jersey. Bon Jovi.
All Those Wasted Years (live at The Marquee). Hanoi Rocks
Headless Children. W.A.S.P. *
Sonic Temple. The Cult. ^
The Dirt. Motley Crue. +

^ not strictly Hair Metal as they didn’t sing about chicks and booze, but look at those haircuts. And those tinny guitars.
* aka We Are Sexual Perverts. RAWK!
+ ok, it’s not even a record, but it rocks better than “Too Fast For Love” : it hasn’t got any of the music, but plenty of attitude, dood.

Just remember that after about 1982, the word Metal no longer need a prefix. It stopped being Heavy quite a while ago (as anyone whose listened to “Hysteria” will tell you). So anything loud and stupid, is, by definition Metal.

I’m not mentioning Guns’N’Roses in this, primarily as Appetite For Destruction transcends the genre by virtue of being probably the best album of all time, even though it is more metal than a Steelworks.

By it’s very definition, ‘Hair Metal’ is metal made by people who have hair. And that means that when the bands that made it get old and bald, they can’t make it anymore. Unless they get wigs. The sight of Gary Glitter, defrocked, disgraced, and deported with a dome shinier than a Boot Camp Soldiers Boots will show you that wigs rock.

But that’s not what Metal is. Metallers don’t change their spots, or their perms : they just dress in darker clothes these days. So these days, Def Leppard just wear black t-shirts instead of white ones.

WHY JOIN THE METAL MILITIA?

Partially because it’s incredibly enjoyable. All you need is a cowboy hat, a geetar, a woman at your side (or two, or three), and some JD in your bottle. And you can rock n roll all night, party every day, live whilst your alive, and sleep when you’re dead. But not when you live with your parents, cos Your Mamma Don’t Dance and Your Daddy Don’t Rock N Roll. And partially because it’s ridiculous. A love for Hair Metal must come enshrined in the knowledge that musically, it’s stupid, vaccous pop-rock; lyrically there’s more substance in a Big Mac, and that conceptually it’s the equivalent of nine year old boys playing at Rock Music.

To understand the ridiculous, to know that yes, it is stupid, and big, and dumb, and yet to love it for exactly that reason, is why people love Hollywood blockbusters. Or at least, why I love them. Because it’s a stupid, braindead spectacle. Maybe its not smart enough to realise how stupid it is. Which is a philosophical concept : I look stupid in these rock star clothes, but at least I know that I look stupid in these rock star clothes. Apologies to Joe Elliot, or whichever other major philosopher I just paid tribute to in that statement.

To me, a James Bond film isn’t exciting. It’s parody. Which is why Johnny English is one of the worst films ever made. You can’t parody a parody. Unless you’re Spinal Tap.

But Metal? There’s something incredibly thrilling about seeing grown men in spandex, surrounded by wickermen and vestal virgins, singing about troopers, and Rocking You Like A Hurricane. And even if they know it’s stupid and silly and ridiculous, didn’t Oscar Wilde once say that a man never shows his true side until he plays a character?

So I love Metal. I can’t get enough of saccharine, Nutrasweet pop with guitars. I know it’ll never be cool, it’ll never be lauded as the works of genius it undoubtedly is, but you know, I gotta know tonight, if you’re alone tonight, can’t stop this feeling, can’t stop this fire, I get hysterical, hysteria, when you’re near..

Metal is about regression. Emotionally it’s about eight years old. Everything is black and white and in bright colours and covered in sweets and honey. It sounds great; and who doesn’t want to live in a world where all a man needs is a woman at his side, a guitar in his hand, and a steel horse to ride?

Especially when these days, there are no rock stars. There is no-one left that is prepared to take the concept of a rock star, and run with it to the logical extent. Sure, there’s Axl Rose, but his idea of being a Rock Star is more like being a reclusive new-age Metal Diva. Besides which, anyone who has a guitarist called Buckethead who believes that he channels the spirit of chickens in his playing and is obsessed with Robots can’t be taken seriously.

There’s Fred Durst, but his idea of being a rock star is just being an obnoxious, belligerent redneck. In fact, Puff Daddy is the nearest there is to a rock star. Or Elton John, in terms of sheer extravagance. So what this world needs now is the good, old-fashioned glam metal. I haven’t seen spandex in Kerrang for at least a decade. It’s far far too long. We need stupid lyrics, squealy guitars, and Rock Chix.

What the world needs is big dumb rock music, made by people who firmly believe in the redemptive power of rock n roll to wash away Every Bad Thing Ever and replace it with Nothin’ But A Good Time : some time a rain will come, and wash away all this dull grunge metal. Faced with a world of flannel and grim denim, gimme spandex, gimme widdly woo geetars, and gimme High Voltage Rock N Roll.

LET THERE BE ROCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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