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shinelikethunder · 7 years

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in the end, it mattered.

So, I... was not expecting to open up the news tonight and feel like I’d been kicked in the stomach. I’d barely even thought about Linkin Park in years. They were my brief, embarrassing nu-metal mallgoth phase. They were everyone’s brief, embarrassing nu-metal mallgoth phase. Then they were the band even nu-metal posers made fun of. By that point 15-year-old me had plunged down the rabbit hole and discovered Rammstein, and the Smiths, and the Sisters of Mercy, and KMFDM, and I had so much awesome music to wallow in that I barely had time to feel self-conscious that I’d never really stopped loving Hybrid Theory. (Although I did, a little, because I was 15 and nothing was too stupid to feel self-conscious about.)

But holy fuck did I love that album. “Crawling” is the first music video I have any actual memory of seeing on TV. Linkin Park was the first rock concert I ever went to. (And fuck you, they were awesome.) I loved it for the exact reasons my entire age cohort found it embarrassing as soon as we were out of middle school. It’s a primal scream of rage and anguish, artfully bottled up and beautified, that manages to articulate a lot of the nuances of how people hurt each other and what it’s like to be hurt so badly you can barely hang on. Which means it had its finger squarely on the pulse of what it’s like to be 14. Stuck in a rat cage with a few hundred other rats, all of you hopped up to the gills on hormones, clumsily figuring out all the ways people can hurt each other, how and when to protect yourself, how to judge others’ behavior. And because people learning how to judge get awfully enthusiastic about it and nobody likes the primal anguish or the pants-on-head stupidity of their 14-year-old self, it didn’t take long for us to start finding Linkin Park embarrassing. Their angst is utterly sincere, and sincerity is uncomfortable. Especially when it reminds you of the utterly sincere, solipsistic, overblown, ridiculous angst over trivial shit that your adolescent hormones were pumping through your veins in middle school. Getting over yourself is healthy.

Coming back to listen when I’m pushing thirty, though, nothing on Hybrid Theory makes me think about my mid-teens melodrama. Some of it makes me think about friendships and relationships that turned into the kind of fucked-up shit that makes me want to grab my past self and shout “run while you can.” But most of it--speaking as a grown-ass adult here--most of it makes me think “holy shit, I want to find whoever did that to this kid and kick their ass six ways from Sunday.” It is so fucking unbelievably obvious in retrospect that none of the shit Chester Bennington is screaming about is something you just get over once you’ve grown up a little and escaped the shitheads you went to high school with.

Transmuting pain into art is a natural, almost universal impulse; doing it well is hard. Getting close enough to grab the beating heart of it, pulling it out to dissect it, ruthlessly rearranging it into something with structure and clarity, stepping back far enough to judge what you’ve made... the strange, disconcerting realization that you’ve turned it into something beautiful. Something that will appeal to other people, make them relate it back to their own pain even if it’s not the same. (Something vulnerable that can be criticized and judged and sneered at.) Maybe at first it’s for your own benefit, help you process and understand it, let out a bit of that primal scream... but let me tell you, the first time someone says “thank you” or “I needed this” or “you articulated what I couldn’t” or “this got me through a dark place”... that doesn’t just make it worth it, it humbles the shit out of you. And it makes you want to keep doing it forever. It turns the pain into shared understanding and an offer of comfort.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t make the pain go away.

Chester Bennington was really fucking good at transmuting his pain into art and offering it up with utter sincerity.

So RIP, dude. I don’t know the details of what you were going through, but you gave the world a pretty good glimpse of the broad outlines. And that glimpse got a lot of kids through adolescence, my dumb ass included; I can only imagine what it did for people who were going through the same stuff as you. Life may not be some fairy tale where turning your demons into art is always enough to save you from them, but I wish you’d made it. You saved a lot of other people. Whatever peace eluded you here, you deserve to find on the other side.

#chester bennington #linkin park

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welovelofi · 5 years

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Introducing: Kilonova Records (Interview)

Meet Espen Gaarde O’Halloran – a mild-mannered government employee and father of two by day – and a passionately dedicated local scene-head by hobby. While most folks his age and station do other more potentially boring and granola things with their free time, Espen has used a massive part of his “down time” to start a record label to release the music he loves. With Kilonova’s first release – an exclusive 7” with the ascending local post-punk darlings, Tears, we sat down on a hot summer evening by the river with a bag of cans and had a good ol’ chat about how this all came about.

WLLF: What was the idea behind getting a label together and putting out a Tears 7”?

E: It’s a long story, but began at Trøjborg Beboerhus (ed: local youth club that hosts shows) in 2015, the label ‘100 Records’ had an ‘introduction evening’ show where Tears and a few others played. I met Jeppe (Grønbæk Andersen) after – I wanted to buy their tape on Posh Isolation – I’d heard their Soundcloud tracks that were up around that time and really liked them. Jeppe seemed like a really nice guy and we kept bumping into each other at various shows. We ended up loaning each other a few records, he seemed to like the albums I loaned him…

Wllf: Oh yeah? What’d you give him?

E: Love’s Forever Changes and Gruff Rhys – Hotel Shampoo which he both really liked actually and Grandaddy’s Software Slump because he’s really got a thing for keyboard rock y’know…”keyboard rocking in the free world” on all of the Tears posts and stuff – but for some reason he didn’t like that one, ha! Which I didn’t really understand. But the record swap became a reference point for our conversations and then we got on to talking about starting up a label.

WLLF: This all sounds kind of like how we met – Just over a mutual love of good music and going to shows – and that’s why I was so happy to hear that you had actually gone and started a label. It seemed like it was for all the right reasons – not a complete outsider coming in and just trying to make a name or a buck for themselves on the coattails of a ‘happening scene’.

E: Well I’m pretty convinced that I’m not going to make any money out of this – but that’s not the motivation as you said. I believe it’s for the love of music. I really just wanted to contribute to the scene.

WLLF: How did you first start getting into this scene, this generation of bands?

E: Well I think it actually has something to do with what you were writing for Sound Of Aarhus a few years back…(http://www.soundofaarhus.com/new-video-yung/) I wasn’t really aware of the underground scene here in Aarhus. You were writing about some of the first Yung shows and really interested in their first 7” and lead video, “Nobody Cares” from Falter – so I got that and really loved it – couldn’t wait for the Falter LP to come out. I really realized that there was something going on in Aarhus.

WLLF: Yeah it seemed like “Punk” kind of came back in a big way – which I think was needed. Before the 2010s it just felt like Aarhus was all about Gangsta’ Rap, Metal and Tina Dico…Then these young bands – most of which Jeppe or Yung Shord were in started putting on shows and switching members and instruments. All of a sudden you had a dozen or so bands doing loud ugly music, or experimental stuff…that’s a scene.

E: yeah, all those bands made a big impression on me of course.

WLLF: I think it’s especially interesting to see how it all evolved – from the straight up ‘hardcore-punk’ of say, Fright Eye and Happy Hookers For Jesus for example to something a little more mature and palpable to outside ears such as Yung, Tilebreaker and of course Tears. When I saw the video of Tears playing 1001 Mates night at SPOT Festival recently I was like – ‘holy shit’, that’s actually really really good. (see link at bottom).

E: it really was. I think this live constellation of Tears is the best they’ve ever been. It’s a different line-up even than the 12” (2018s “All Songs From 2015”). Basically, everyone left the band except Jeppe.

WLLF: Well- how long did it take from initially talking about the label to actually getting it going?

E: The idea had been there for a while as we said, but this time around, we sat down in December (2018) to really make it happen. He had played me some demos of these tracks and I really liked them… he started recording just before New Year’s and finished up sometime in January. With mixing and mastering it was done that March and he sent over rough mixes and stuff along the way. I visited a few times during the process but I didn’t interfere too much – he knows what he wants to do.

WLLF: Then, presumably, you had some work to do to get this out. How was that process for you? Figuring out all that you had to do to actually get a physical record out?

E: Jeppe of course has some experience with that, but I surfed around a bit to find a pressing plant and ended up going with 100 vinyl in France – they had a good deal for short run pressings and they have GZ (Czech Rep.) do the manufacturing. But I went through all the little stuff you find out about along the way – mechanical licenses etc. There was a steep learning curve and I wanted to do everything ‘by the book’ – I work for SKAT y’know, (ed: Danish Tax Authority) so obviously I need to do things properly!

WLLF: How long then did it take then to turn around?

E: We sent the recordings in the beginning of May – and inside 3 weeks we had the test pressings and they began pressing by July – they were actually pretty quick.

WLLF: As a vinyl lover, all this must have been very exciting!

E: Yeah, when we got the test pressing I was thrilled.The first time I put it on at home – it was just magnificent. Even though it’s not my music – I was very proud of it, it was something that I helped make happen.

WLLF: Amen. So – what’s next?

E: I hope this is just the beginning. For now, though I’m just focused on seeing how this goes when it comes out – but I’m really hoping to do more, not only 7”, full length releases. I’d like to do another Tears release – but also open to other things that may come up.

And with that, we continued drinking, chatting and being intermittently interrupted (as you do) by the Asian can collectors circling around us after every clink of an empty one called them to arms.

Espen and I – apart from an almost eerily similar taste in music also share a mutual love for space physics and cosmology – a kilonova being the merging – or rather crashing together of two neutron stars, or a neutron star and a black hole together to form a cataclysmic cosmic event, emitting gamma waves (even gravitational waves). One of the more impressive and powerful events in the cosmos where two powerful entities collide. I think it’s an ambitiously apt name for a start-up label, and symbolic of the creation of something new, a transmission out of chaos. We need more of this happening and frankly more folks like Espen willing to try and make them happen. We wish them all the luck in the world.

You can start hearing and buying the Tears 7” on all streaming services and via Kilonova’s FaceBook page (https://www.facebook.com/KilonovaRec/) and of course at the release concert tonight at Café Vennelyst: https://www.facebook.com/events/438851636696358/.

“Single ‘19” Is ltd to 200 copies so get them fast!

Follow Tears on FB: https://www.facebook.com/keyboardrockinginthefreeworld/

Tears on Soundcloud:

https://soundcloud.com/tears94

-Words//Bobby McBride.

youtube

#Kilonovarecords Tears Aarhus punk postpunk DIY Cosmos indie newlabelnewmusic newreleases newreleasefriday livemusic denmark

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ecotone99 · 5 years

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[MF] Gone Songs #01

The first time Wayne had heard Guns and Roses' Appetite for Destruction, he'd thought it was quite possibly the best album ever made. Plenty of cussing, heavy music, only one obligatory ballad and even that was pretty good. Then, upon listening to it a second time, he stood convinced - it clearly was the best album ever recorded.

Now, a year and a half later, having been forced to listen to the tape thousands of times blasting from every cassette player in every car on every ride ever taken with his friends, Wayne realized that assessment may have been premature.

"Please," he begged Sean, "Please can we play something else."

Sean turned up the volume on Mr. Brownstone and said, "Nope!" He stomped on the accelerator and started singing along with Mr. Axle. "oh-OH-ohown!"

Sean's car; Sean's music.

Oh well. They were only a few minutes away from school and the blissful, dull silence of the classroom.

***

"Where are you going?" Wayne asked when Sean cruised passed the exit to Edwardsville High School.

Sean cut his eyes towards Wayne and flashed a mischievous grin. "Nowhere," he said. "Just to meet Garth real quick. Won't take but a minute."

Shit. Garth. Sean grunted a noise of disapproval.

"What?" Sean asked.

"Fucking Garth, man."

"What's wrong with Garth? He's cool. He's a real funny guy."

"Looking," Wayne agreed.

"Well, yeah, that too. But he's okay."

Sean turned off the highway, then down a gravel rural route, and in short time found Garth's rusted out Chevette parked next to a dying corn field. When Sean pulled behind the car and cut the engine, they heard the sound of Guns 'n Roses blasting tinny and awful from the small car's blown out speakers.

Wayne groaned again.

Garth came running as they opened their doors. He was small, with a narrow face and a patchy mustache/beard combo. His eyes were wild with excitement, mouth already running, and the stupid rat-tail dangling from his bowl haircut repeatedly flipped up and slapped him across the eyes.

"Hey Sean the fuck took you so long I've been here forever and I can't find anything I was so wasted is this even the right place can't be late again for school my mom will kill me and-"

"-Garth!" Sean put a hand up. "Relax. This is the right place."

"Well fuck me then." Garth finally noticed Wayne and nodded his chin. "Wayne."

"Garth."

"Well fuck help me look then!" Garth turned, went back to the edge of the cornfield and started stomping around in the dirt.

"This is something stupid," Wayne guessed as they headed for the corn. "Isn't it?"

"No," Sean sounded indignant. "We hid some beer and wine coolers in this field last Saturday so our parents wouldn't find them. We'll need them tonight for the Megadeath concert."

Wayne stopped and put his fists on his hips.

"Look," Sean said, "You can either help us or walk to school. Your choice."

Sean joined Garth at the field and they circled each other, noses towards the ground.

Wayne took a few deep breaths. He went to Garth's car, reached in and turned off the cassette player.

"Hey!" Sean and Garth stood up as one. "Turn that back on!"

"I was going to suggest," Wayne said, "Maybe we spread out? So we can cover more ground?"

Garth and Sean shrugged at each other. Then they started talking and pointing and eventually came up with a plan. Soon the three boys were scanning the dirt in more or less a sensible pattern.

***

Three rows of corn into the field, Wayne spotted what looked like the swatch of a rag poking out of the ground. He tugged on it and loose dirt fell away from a pillowcase sized canvas bag. The bag was open-end down and the contents fell out as Wayne lifted.

The bodies of many small dogs, puppies, in various states of decomposition tumbled across the ground. Wayne recoiled first at the sight then, a moment later, the smell.

"Hey!" somewhere Garth yelled. "Hey hey! I found it!"

Wayne looked up and saw a hand holding a six pack waving above the barren stalks of corn.

Sean and Garth were already at the Chevette, loading the trunk up with their treasure, when Wayne came staggering from the field.

"What's wrong?" Sean asked.

"Nothing," Wayne answered. "Can we go?"

"Wait! Wait wait," Garth ran back into the corn. Moment's later a triumphant hand holding some sort of canister shot up into the air. "Got it!"

Garth returned to the car and tossed the canister at Sean who grabbed it, smiled sheepishly, and placed it in the trunk alongside the booze. A can of Scotch Guard.

"Jesus you don't look good," Garth said to Wayne. "You sick?"

"No. No, just...," Wayne looked back to where he had found the puppies. "Something in the corn."

"What's out there?" Garth took off again, this time trying to retrace Wayne's steps.

"Garth, get back here," Sean complained. "We're going to be late!"

With Garth away, Wayne reached in the trunk and grabbed the can of Scotch Guard. He rattled it next to Sean's head.

"Yeah, I know. But I don't huff. I don't really think Garth does either. He just pretends to."

Wayne kept rattling.

"Knock it off," Sean snatched the can away and threw it down.

"HOLY FUCK!" Garth yelled from the field. "This is fucking sick!"

"Garth!" This time Wayne hollered at the corn. "Leave it alone!"

"Wait!" Came the reply. "There's more!"

"What's out there?" Sean asked.

"A sack full of dead puppies," Wayne answered.

"Bullshit. Really? Bullshit."

Garth continued rustling around in the corn, talking excitedly to himself. Eventually he returned, dragging with him a whole bunch of canvas bags.

"Man this is sick some fuck really hates dogs and there's a lot more of these out there too," Garth said, slinging the bags on the road next to his car. He turned one over and a mass of deceased puppies, not long dead, still fluffy with fur, rolled across the gravel.

"Jesus, Garth." Wayne turned away. "What are you doing?"

Garth started laughing inappropriately, pushing the dogs around with the toe of his shoe to separate them. "Man," he said, "some fuck really hates dogs that's like twenty of them right there."

"Come on, Garth," Sean said. "Let's go."

"No wait," Garth said. "Check this one out."

He upended another bag. Nothing but bones this time, and when they hit the ground, they blended with the gravel. Garth squatted and shifted through the skeletons. He came up holding a tiny puppy skull. "Check this out!"

Garth giggled as he took the skull to his car, dug around in the backseat until he found a tennis shoe, undid the lace, looped it through the skull's eye-socket, and hung it from the rear view mirror.

"Check it out!" Garth laughed as if it was the most hilarious thing in the world. Then he turned on the cassette player and sang Paradise City to the dangling puppy skull.

"Oh for fuck's sake...," Wayne started, then a siren went Woop! and red/blue lights flashed.

While trying to talk sense into Garth, they hadn't noticed the cop car that had turned onto the rural route and was coming right towards them.

***

The cop's gun was in his hand. It was out of the holster. It was in his hand.

He'd pulled it just seconds ago when, while all three boys were talking over each other explaining why there were sacks of dead dogs by their cars, he shouted for them to "Shut up!" The gun came out. "Shut up or else so help me...."

The cop had a large frame, large belly, and as he squatted over the deceased puppies, his face flushed red. He reached down with his free hand - the one that wasn't holding a gun - and almost touched one of the bodies. He pulled away before making contact. He wiped the back of that hand across his eyes. Wayne noticed it was shaking.

The cop stood straight and stared out at the field for a moment. Then turn towards the boys.

"You say you found these-"

The cop started and immediately Garth burst out; "Yessir some fuck really hates dogs but we found them in the field while we were looking for some stuff we'd lost in that field but we don't know anything about those dogs sir they were fucked when we-"

"-GARTH SHUT UP!" Wayne and Sean shouted simultaneously.

"You," the cop used his gun to point at Wayne, whose knees buckled. Wayne grabbed hold of Sean's shoulder for support. "Talk to me. Just you. Everybody else better stay quiet."

It took a moment, but Wayne found his voice. "Yessir. I found a bag there," Wayne pointed towards the spot, "and it had these dead.... dead puppies...."

"What were you doing in the field?"

"My friends had hidden some beer and I was helping them find it."

"Where's the beer?"

"In the trunk sir."

The cop looked in the trunk, saw the beer. He also saw the Scotch Guard. He held it up and shook his head.

"You huff this?" he asked.

"No sir," Wayne said. "Not me."

"Then why hide it in a corn field?" The cop knocked dirt from the canister. "Why hide it at all?"

"I... don't know."

"Uh huh. And, while looking for beer and Scotch Guard, you found a bunch of dead dogs?"

"Yessir."

"Buried out there?"

"Yessir."

"But you dug them up?"

"Yes... well, no... they weren't really buried...."

"Dug them up and brought them to your car?

"Nuh... No, not..."

"Shut up." To Wayne's relief, the cop holstered his gun so he could rummage through the Chevette's trunk. Fortunately, aside from the beer and Scotch Guard, Garth didn't have any other contraband. Just a bunch of dirty clothes, shoes, fast food bags, old papers and heavy metal magazines.

The cop circled the car, stopped at the open door on the driver's side. He bent over and reached in. His hand came out holding the puppy skull on a shoelace.

"Ho shit," Sean said.

Garth started babbling, giggling at the same time, trying to explain it, until the cop un-holstered his gun again.

Garth fell silent.

The cop looked at his feet for a moment. Wayne noticed his Adam's apple bob, as if he were overcome by emotion. Then he raised his head and looked at each boy in turn, his eyes absolutely blazing with anger.

"Lots of fun, huh? Playing with dead dogs?'

"Nuh no si-"

"SHUT UP!"

In a rage the cop threw the puppy skull at Wayne's head. Shocked by the violence, Wayne fell down.

"Fun...," the cop muttered. "Lots of fun here. Fun with the dead puppies...."

He went to the bags by the side of the road, nudged them with his shoe. He found one that was exceptionally gross, the canvas sagging and smeared with gore. "You," he pointed the gun at Garth. "Come here."

Garth sheepishly obeyed.

"Pick it up."

Garth did.

"Hold it open."

The repelled Garth but the policeman grabbed him by the back of his head and forced his face towards the opening.

"What's the matter, punk? I thought this was fun?"

Garth retched but somehow managed not to throw up. The cop backed away, clearly troubled by the horrible odor.

"Oh, I know. I know how to make this fun. You," he pointed at Sean. "Come here."

Sean started.

"Bring the Scotch Guard."

Sean hesitated. The gun focused. Sean moved.

"Good," the cop said when Sean was standing next to the canvas bag. "Now. Spray some in there. Don't be cheap, son. This is a party. Fun and games, right? Go ahead. More.

"Now. Huff."

Gore dripped from the bottom of the bag. Garth started crying.

"HUFF GODDAMN IT!"

Garth brought his face to the bag; crying, choking, gagging.

"Help him out," the cop told Sean. "You hold the bag. Get it tight there, tight around his face. That's right."

Garth exploded in a cloud of vomit. It went everywhere, all over Sean, all over the bag. Everywhere. Garth fell down and vomited again. When he collapsed his face fell into a puddle of the disgusting stuff.

"Oh God," Sean dropped the bad and stepped back, holding his arms out to inspect the amount of chunks on his clothes. "Oh God."

"Nuh uh," the cop said to Sean, still holding the gun. "Not fair. You haven't had any fun yet. Pick up the bag. Pick it up. We've got to have our fun and games at this party. Now. Get your face in there. Get in there and huff."

A moment later, Sean lay next to Garth on the mucky gravel, sticky and stinking of vomitus.

The cop set his eyes on Wayne.

"Don't look so sad, son," the cop said. "This is a party. We've got fun and games. Join in."

***

We've got fun and games....

***

And from that day forth, Wayne could never again hear Appetite for Destruction without throwing up a little in his mouth.

The End

A few months ago I inadvertently deleted my entire MP3 music collection. 35 years of digital albums gone in a blink. I'm far too old to rebuild, plus I think I may be going a little deaf, so I've started Gone Songs which is my way of remembering those records and/or artists who have been with me as a constant inspiration throughout these many long years.

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