Whiff o’ the Week (9/28/14)
When the whiff first came to me in a dream, it manifested as a single, boorish sonic expression of ignorance nestled snugly within the confines of an otherwise congruous track. However, as I gave more and more of myself to the whiff, it grew and metamorphosed into something bestial and hulking, amalgamating entire songs, then albums, then whole bands themselves. I have fought the whiff too long. I fear that I, like the proverbial dragonslayer from Nietzsche’s omen, may soon lose all to the whiff and inevitably succumb to it. Yet I cannot help but revel in the guilt. This is Whiff o’ the Week.
This week I’m flushing Jeff Loomis for breaking up with Warrel Dane. Please kiss and make up. I need more Nevermore in my life.
Papa Joe Thrashnkill
Franky De Smet-Van Damme, your voice sucks and your lyrics are asinine. This song is a shining example of my least favorite thing in metal. The instrumentation is totally capable and on-point, but then the vocals come in and fart all over the place. Eventually we get to the cringe-inducing chorus with godawful clean vocals that deliver this gem: “I say fuck you, go to hell!”. ‘K brah.
Don’t get me wrong, I actually like this song. I think these Spaniards do the whole gothic/doom thing pretty well, but this video (which I’m guessing is supposed to be sad) is a lolfactory.
1:10 — Don’t mind this rando in your bathroom growling his brains out while you get dressed.
3:20 – Top-shelf invisible forcefield effects.
4:43 – “ARRRRGGGGGGH FUCK FISH BOWLS!”
As a Texan, it is in my blood to be a huge Pantera fan, but dear Lord do I hate Psycho Holiday. From how oddly upbeat it is to that God awful chorus to that grating solo. As Phil says within “You can’t please all the people all the time.”
I know this album was in WotW before, but goddamn. If actual music were allowed in San Angeles instead of stupid jingles, this crap is the lounge music that would play while you wait for the waiter to bring you your godawful “healthy” fancy Taco Bell dinner that consists of two baby carrots and some vomit colored sauce. The so called heavy riff at 3:40 is the audio equivalent of the eloquent dump you will take in the toilet afterwards while your date flirts with said waiter by asking what color he prefers for his purse. That Anders does this stupid spinning motion in some lameass attempt to emulate the metalcore singers he’s taken singing lessons from in the video only punctuates the absolute failure of this song.
Dafuq happened to you, In Flames?
Unashamed fan of Mötley Crüe but this song is indefensible.
Jack Bauer and Spear
Necromancing the Stone = Lolbuttz. You’d think with all that talent they could get vocals that work. Plus that name is one of the biggest whiffs in metal history.
We’re all flushing Randall Thor for spamming us with his basic love of these:
Enjoy picking your wrinkled yoga pants up off the Frat house floor, buddy.
Feel free to defend any of these choices in the comments section and tell me what a turd I am for my opinion. Also, if you hate something I love, send it to me for the next Whiff o’ the Week! All opinions here are strictly those of the writer in question, although most of them are correct.