Metal Lyrics

It is a widespread axiom among neurobiologists that "talent" as we know it, is built mostly from experience-10,000 hours of experience makes a virtuoso. There are, of course, intrinsic factors that make one person benefit more than another from two hours of mathematical instruction, or piano, or throwing a knife. To date, I have logged in about 500 hours with bass guitar-the playing and the musical composition that goes with it. My mind takes to the composition, and much less so to the process of making my fingers do what they should. The one part of creating metal that comes naturally to me is the process of writing lyrics. I wasted much of my youth writing poetry, much of it for open mic shows.
Now, I have discovered a wonderful new use for this ability. I have put in my ten thousand hours as a writer, and writing lyrics comes as naturally to me as singing and abusing drugs and sex partners comes to somebody like Rob Halford or Lemmy, or taking a dump in the shoes of unsuspecting fellow-hotel guests comes to Ozzy Ozbourne. Better still, a totally new parameter space to explore. All art, especially the art that pretends to challenge all boundaries, occupies a parameter space. There are things that can and cannot be done within the context of the art form. Violating the parameter space occasionally creates a new art form, but usually creates bad art. For song lyrics, especially metal lyrics, the parameter space is wonderfully delineated. I love parameters. I love one-sentence novels, for instance.

I wrote three sets of lyrics yesterday. This first one refers to the work of Chicago outsider-artist Henry Darger (who created a new art form by violating the parameter-space of the novel, writing a 10,000+ page, multivolume work describing a war between sexulalized child slaves and their dragon allies, and the Glandolinian overlords who worked their petite little nude bodies till they dropped to exhaustion. General Blood was one of many Glandolinain enemies. Their emblem, by the way, was the Confederate uniform.)

General Blood

Ready for battle. The legions await. Envenom their steel and reflect on their fate.

At dawn we confront them. Their beasts and their gore. With arrows of fire. Ballista and sword.

Thirst.

For their blood.

Fight.

Sword and Steel.

Triumph.

Lead them Home in Chains.

The flash of steel sabre. An ocean of gore. Ten thousand blue children impaled on their swords. Across the green landscape cacophonous cries. The angels are dying. Their empire’s demise.

Kill.

Make them pay.

Fight.

Win the Day.

Triumph.

Lead them Home in Chains

A gargantuan beast-its spine is exposed. Its minions and leaders are fleeing in droves. The children of Darger they meet their demise. The heel of a jack boot-a six year old dies.

Thirst.

For their blood.

Fight.

Sword and steel.

Triumph.

Lead them home in chains.

These angels have poisoned the minds of our slaves. At bayonet’s point interred in their graves. Dishonor their bodies their heads in a bag. At the crest of the hill a confederate flag.

Kill

Make them pay

Fight.

Win the Day.

Triumph.

Lead them home in chains.

This second one is about Meth. My clone and I came up with this notion of an entire playlist of songs with titles corresponding to procedures for loading and firing medieval siege engines. Overcranking is something, unwise, you can do to improve the range of a ballista.

Overcrank

Midnight spirits fade at dawn.

Pygmy shadows linger on.

Trapped inside a world of thought.

This hellish snare that mind begot.

Meth.

Crank.

Overcrank.

The glassy rock has done its deed.

And in its wake an oafish greed.

You took apart the TV set.

At noon you stare with dull regret.

Meth.

Crank.

Overcrank.

Your money vanished in a fog.

Your woman left and took the dog.

And on your skin you feel the bugs.

They aren’t real its just the drugs.

Meth.

Crank.

Overcrank.

The above two have a very strict meter, corresponding to the only simple rhythms I can play on bass and sing at the same time. This last one has no conspicuous meter because it was intended to be screamed over the top of a melodic piece. The Skeleton Coast is a real place, in Namibia. The above two were inspired by Venom and Motorhead...intentionally stupid and funny, the one below was inspired more by Bathory..ponderous and heavy.

Skeleton Coast

Bleached bones

A black sky

A scorpion’s fight

A skeleton’s fate

Diamond dry

A criminal fog

A serpent’s back

A killing sun

The desert is ancient its memory deep

Your fate, to perish with riches at hand

The lion is desperate come here to die

A fortune in diamonds adrift on the dunes

You’ll die here

The skeleton coast

Death’s grip

A black spear

A thatch hut

A dry wind

War paint

A savage night

A skin drum

A cannibal rite

The desert is ancient its memory deep

Your fate, to perish with riches at hand

The lion is desperate come here to die

A fortune in diamonds adrift on the dunes

You’ll die here

The skeleton coast