This thread is a focking dream come true.
I still have no fucking clue what the fuck is happening here.
No worries, it means you're pretty sane. We're using this little campy Lagavulin-soaked retrospective as cover-up for our real project, that is our imminent debut in Vegas as the New Rat Pack. I am obviously Frankie since I'm blue-eyed, basically italian and this is my focking thread. Podaar glides in with panache and classy barbs as only Dean could and TAC is the only one capable of pulling off a Sammy, given his legal ownership of SIT Cyborg Eddie's bionic eye. Bosk1 is our benevolent JFK, tolerating our inanities in this den of prog debauchery as long as we provide broads and booze. He's going to pull the plug the moment he bothers to actually read the focking bollocks we're soiling his message board with.
It weird that I understood all of this?
No sir, it's splendid news, welcome aboard.
Guys, we've got Peter Lawford.Now, still smelling of first time sex and panic, let's half-nakedly face the sequel to a focking hard to follow masterpiece:
6:000:00 0:11: John opened the previous album, now it Mike's turn, in flying focking colours I might add. And if you suspect such a wonderful drum intro is gonna make me open the Drum Intros Pantheon to visitors, you know me too focking well. Which one (no particular order) is gonna lose its place to this beauty?
Fireball Ian Paice
The Rover John Bonham
Rosanna Jeff Porcaro
Stargazer Cozy Powell
Hor for Teacher Alex Van Halen
Run to the Hills Clive Burr
50 Ways to Leave your Lover Steve Gadd
Where Eagles Dare Nicko McBrain
We're Not Gonna Take It AJ Pero
Blood Sugar Sex Magic Chad Smith
Walk This Way Joey Kramer
Superstition Carmine Appice
0:11 0:20: Atonal, frantic and gritty. What a difference two years make.
0:20 0:30: A dirty heavy elaborate Vanilla Fudge Metal, but it may be just me.
0:30 0:44: Wait a minute. Did they focking hire a second guitarist? If so, is he Scott focking Ian?
0:44 0:54: Ok, ok. I think I get it. It's 6 o'clock on a Christmas morning. Jeez.
0:54 1:04: Great grimy bass riff. Propably impossible without the emergence of Rage Against the Machine.
1:04 2:11: Thank you, James. I thought I had bought another band's release until I heard your (worringly growly) voice. Anyway, stunning rocker. It's like Space Truckin' raped Take the Time's verse and kept the resulting offspring on a proteins only diet.
2:11 2:25: James, you dare to push-belt out live that way and that growl is going to bite you in the winter rose before you hit 40.
2:25 3:14: What a powerful mess. I'm officially afraid some cupcake at the record label told the guys I&W had a pussy sound and they reacted wearing the Symbionte Costume.
3:14 3:52: Ok, maybe not. The Space Soda triumphantly returns, but way darker. I don't know, is losing verginity making me perceive every tone in a grimmer way?
3:52 4:12: It wasn't Scott Ian. It was Tom Morello.
4:12 5:10: What the fock happened in two years? Comparing openers, we went from Hamlet lost in the sky to a dude smoking marlboros inside a truck, from not being afraid despite worlds crumbling and sparrows falling to Yuletide midlife crisis because my weekend warrior Journey cover band sucks and my wife is fat. I focking blame grunge.
5:10 5:30: And here we go again with Santa's alarm clock and the contractual obligation to leave every album opener's finale on the editing room's floor. I focked a human being for the first time in my life fifteen minutes ago and I'm pissed. By the way, let me check on the undeserved beautiful poor girl sleeping in Material Mom's bedroom before Rikki slashes her open in order to sacrifice her life essence to some Egyptian Feline Deity.
Nonetheless, we have a Joey Bishop vacant spot still available.Coming Next (with a premature shitstorm from Awake lovers): Caught in a Web.