Velvet Revolver
Contraband

THE REVIEW

So here I am sitting on my leather couch on this sunny afternoon with my damn cup of coffee, I turn on the TV to Sky for a rerun of game 1 of the NBA finals Lakers-Pistons and what do they show during the break? None other than a documentary: some scientists in Australia or New Zealand or wherever the hell have claimed that they might be able to cross a human being with a SKUNK!
And what the hell is it for?
There are already Velvet Revolver out there, right? Idiots, come and get them and study them!
What I wonder is: will it make us screw like them? The skunk-men Weiland-Slash and Duff M. I mean. Or will it create a damn new animal race intelligent enough to express itself with a more limited vocabulary than ours, stand on its hind legs and dance while the radio plays Slither, Do it For The Kids, which is curiously déjà heard, but not from the Guns side nor from the Pilots side, it reminds of something from the Spice Girls, I'm serious, and all the new repetitive grunge-metal crap that these assholes have come out with this June?? Just stereotypes damn it!!!
W eiland still singing like 10 years ago with a hoarse voice!! But hasn't anyone told Slash yet that Guns rock has been dead for at least 15 years????
These pseudo grunge puppets piss me off, and Duff McKagan with his air of a shabby artist for 20 years but never kicks the bucket, Duff McKagan me cagan nu cazzo!!!! and that's from someone who loved Pearl Jam, Alice In Chains and the like!!

But those were different times, Alice In Chains were dramatically sincere in what they played, and what a punch with Dirt or the three-legged dog!!, but today it's 2004, today we have the triad of sex, drugs, and rock and roll (which was once synonymous with transgression) used by the power to swallow up and annihilate the people, every hour at every moment, we have news broadcasts with its editorial staff made up of girls under 30 talking to us about how to give good blowjobs hoping that the towel heads will blow up the Rome subway to get more ratings, and then Mario Giordane the genetically modified scum on the vocal cords, a sellout parasite with his skewed pro-Berlusconi news... damn... that's why you Velvet Revolver aren't transgressive today, you're just scum adding to the scum, I challenge you in drinking bouts Slash, I challenge you damn it!!!!!

And we also have great scientists today, likable, selfless people with impeccable morals who, until a couple of years ago, declared they would never screw around with DNA and stuff because it was against their shitty ethics.
And yet there they are with these damn guinea pigs producing human skin and all these mutated pig eggs from which hawks are born. Yes, because they said that even mammals, if properly manipulated, could lay eggs. In short: it is already full of mulattos, mestizos, and other mixed bastards around, what the hell are these bastards doing experiments for to look politically correct? They've already told us there's no damn difference between blacks and Caucasians, between men and women, in a few years they'll tell us there's no damn difference between a damn horse and a damn man!. Is that possible?

For some years I have noticed that some of my metalhead friends can't see beyond metal or rather they see but not with as much joy and they speak a bit in clichés like metal headlines (e.g. the latest of Labirinth got 4 stars, mind-blowing etc. etc.). I mean, I'm sick of people who, if you talk to them about guitarists, they bring up Steve Vai or Joe Satriani or Slash (for heaven's sake they are geniuses, but have you ever heard people like Jeff Beck, David Gilmour, Robert Fripp, Hendrix, Thunders, Kramer??), or like the other day talking to my 18-year-old cousin already lost for these Velvet Revolver, in 1987 my cousin was 1 year old while Slash was pouring out the solos of Appetite For Destruction, now what the hell does he know about Slash and grunge??? There losing his head, and me telling him: "cousin take a look at the scene of the early 90s, and you'll see what the hell end your Revolver will meet..."

Me, who for work constantly moves between Genoa and Milan, I say that in all of Genoa, or in all of Milan there will be 5000 melted metalheads.
Genoa is a shitty city invaded by damn posers and fake punks who panhandle to buy a beer, at night these bastards return to their damn 900 million houses, these are the little bastards with the lawyer father and the whore mother, yyyaaa...
The more time passes the more I realize how the so-called "metalheads", those who say their genre is an elite, true, for musical connoisseurs, etc. are not much different from the so-called MTV-generation... from the average fan of Britney Spears, Ricky Martin, Lunapop...
And this GOM has also fallen into complete shit... who will it be next year? Until it becomes GOTM (Gods of TRUE Metal)?
So reflect on how stupid "hard and pure" metalheads can be (in the sense of compact and pure distilled idiocy). But don't worry: stupidity is a common trait of all extremists blinded by their own dogma, so the company is large and well assorted: the responsible ones need not fear feeling alone.

And after tackling the embarrassing male metalhead universe let's tackle the female metal planet: in Italy there aren't many girls dressed as metalheads there are some metalheads however more on the "dark slutty" side provocative, vulgar, and for 90% of the male fauna... vomit-worthy, for a girl to dress as a metalhead means killing the sex appeal admitting that metalheads are 10% of the male fauna: by dressing as a poser potentially I could interest 90% of the men, but in practice, it doesn't happen, by dressing as a metalhead (besides the fact that I like it) I attract that 10% in a deep way, but you don't attract Vic Smile beauty!, Vic rejects the dogmas, Vic revels in the most disparate conglomerate of expressions of art for art's sake and not for fashion, you little goth if you are truly a metalhead-darkie do an analysis of David Lynch's Lost Highway and next time talk to me about Timothy Leary while you put your tits in my face listening to the fucking Revolver, maybe during the first and second half of Welles' Citizen Kane, maybe I'll remember you the next day.