Hold on to love
What a long, strange trip it's been. And still we roll down this baffling road, missing those who have left us. Daisuke Jigen, Sifl, SNK4EVER, Nightmare_Tony, Boog. Gone but not forgotten :buttorck:
I knew there was a reason I haven't liked metal since I was 13
Originally Posted by GregN
Moarliek: FROTHMAN for Megadeath, amirite?
Good stuff.Originally Posted by Wikipedia
Undomesticated Primate. Trying to preserve La Raza.
Dave Mustaine's biography is a real good read. The guy is obviously unstable, and I believe he's slightly aware of it, too. It's funny, I hadn't seen the dude since his VH1 special aired in 2001, and I think, maybe in 2010, I saw him again in an interview, and it's like the guy aged 40 years in that time span. He looks really bad. I can't see his eyes, and that makes me uncomfortable - like he has no soul, or he's hiding something. I don't trust the guy.
Peace Sells... is their best album, imo.. followed closely with Rust in Peace.
I think everyone has at some point in their life known someone like Mustaine. Thus an easy assumption can be made about all people: the slow-witted of us take note their remarks, and the more cerebrally nimble of us completely disregard everything that comes out of their mouths.
there is no coming back from "Crush em"
Dave Mustaine is awesome.
Metallica last album was...... Better
That's enough to piss anybody off, but not for 30 years. That's where all the shit-talking came out. James flat-out said that Dave was an awful guitar player, and whenever he would try to be "brilliant" it was a disaster. I could write a book on all the shit Lars has said. Also take into account that when Metallica took off, it took Megadeth almost 5 years to catch up, of sorts. Playing smelly-ass shit-holes, while everybody screams "METALLICA!!!" everywhere you go just to piss you off (and it does) - that shit can really fuck a person up, especially if you're unstable as he is.
Then when they were inducted into the rock n roll hall of fame, they invited Dave, but he couldn't be on stage because he "didn't play on any of the albums." How about the fact that he wrote almost half of Kill 'em All? Metallica could've easily have said "listen, this guy was instrumental in the creation of this band, and, without him, who knows if we would be where we are today" and fought for that.
This is a pretty good insight, taken from his book:
Imagine my shock when Metallica's debut album, Kill 'Em All, was released in the summer of 1983, and four of my songs were included: "The Four Horsemen" (formerly "Mechanix"), "Jump in the Fire," "Phantom Lord," and "Metal Militia." The same four songs that had been included on the No Life Till Leather demo. The writing credits were altered to reflect changes made in the songs during the recording process, and, I can only speculate, to minimize my contribution. Each of these songs was primarily mine, and yet James or Lars (or both) took a share of the credit for all four songs. On each, my name was placed last, so that songwriting credit for "Jump in the Fire," for example, reads as follows: Hetfield/Ulrich/Mustaine.
I listened to these songs with a blend of wonder and indignation. I couldn't believe they would use my songs after throwing me out of the band. They never contacted me, never asked my permission. They just did it. To suggest that the modifications made to these songs somehow reflect a collegial atmosphere or a more balanced division of labor is equally inaccurate. The day after I was dismissed from Metallica, Kirk Hammett was in New York, taking my place at the Music Building, auditioning for my role in the band, and mimicking the blistering lead guitar solos I had created, solos that stand today as the genesis of thrash metal.
But, like I said before, Dave Mustaine is still slightly self-aware. He admits many times that he shouldn't be so angry at them, and it's merely the same as "driving your BMW next to another at a light and being bothered because theirs has a higher number than yours." That's got to suck - being so fucking angry, knowing most of it is irrational, and then not being able to do anything about it anyway.
wooo, look at that tangent
If Mustaine had all that anger, he should have just found the few members of the band that have the pills for a good, old fashioned beating. I mean, if you’ve got someone making tons off of your material, well, that just has to result in a good round of savagery. I imagine Hetfield likes to believe he’s hard, so it shouldn’t have been too difficult to lure him into a manly exchange of insurance providers.
that site was full of fail. wtf...
" Of all the frictionless resistances, ignorance most retards human movement." Tesla
Dave doesn't need anybody to help him fight. Another good story from his book:
Although he looked the part of a gunslinger, James wasn't big on confrontation either. One night I went to the Mabuhay Gardens, a nightclub in North Beach colloquially known as the "Old Mabuhay," with James and his girlfriend. While we were waiting outside for the club to open, a girl came running out of a nearby alleyway, flailing her arms and screaming at the top of her lungs.
"He broke my nose! He broke my nose!"
I had no idea who she was or what had happened. And I didn't care. Instantly I felt the rush of adrenaline you get before a fight. I looked at James, didn't say a word. I just smiled, and I could tell what he was probably thinking.
Oh, what's this crazy fucker gonna do now?
Finally, I touched him on the shoulder and said, "Let's go, dude!"
So we ventured into the alley, hardly able to see a thing. I was quiet, but behind me, James was grunting, snorting, yelping half-baked threats.
"Gonna kill you, motherfucker!"
I almost laughed. James wasn't so much threatening anyone as he was whistling past the graveyard. You know, like you did when you were a kid, trying to convince yourself that you weren't afraid of anything when in reality you were about to shit your pants.
At the end of the alleyway was a parked van. As we drew near, with James still yelling, the driver's-side door opened, and out stepped this big son of a bitch.
"Which one of you assholes wants to kill me?" he said, the look on his face signaling either inebriation or a complete lack of fear. Maybe both.
Before I could respond, James took a quick step backward and yelled, "He does!"
I turned around to see James pointing at me.
Thanks a lot, brother . . .
There wasn't time for an explanation. The big guy lunged at me, and as he moved forward, I opened my hand, thumb pointing down, and grabbed the back of his neck. Then I swept his foot out from underneath him, threw him on the ground, and started rabbit-punching his head until he was unconscious.
A few minutes later the cops arrived and took the guy away in handcuffs. James and I went back to hanging out in front of the club, acting like nothing had happened, but inside I was pretty shaken up. When I woke the next morning my hand was swollen and sore, like I'd punched a wall. When James asked me if I was okay, I just nodded. We never talked explicitly about the way that incident unfolded. There was no point. We are who we are. And I accepted James as such.
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