ROCHESTER, N.Y. — Occult rockers Ghost performed their entire show with wastebaskets from a local Marriott on their heads after TSA lost their trademark masks in transit, several of the band’s apologists report.
“When we got to our hotel rooms and we all noticed that our masks were missing, the panic immediately set in,” one of the band’s eight Nameless Ghouls explained. “Knowing how quickly Tobias…err uhh Papa Emeritus…could fire us, we knew we had to act fast. One Ghoul suggested we just go out there with our shirts pulled over our heads like we’re about to get into a hockey fight or something. Another said we should just not cover our faces at all. Though that was a pretty good idea, using small trash bins as masks seemed far less silly and embarrassing. I don’t think anyone in the crowd even noticed.”
Many Ghost fans in the audience felt that they were witnessing a new, special chapter in the band’s career.
“When Ghost finally hit the stage, I knew something just seemed different than the previous 14 times I’d seen them,” superfan Erin Martinez explained. “It could’ve been the used tissues and banana peels strewn all over the stage and their clothes. Or maybe it was all the flies buzzing around their heads. I’m not sure, but I dig the new look. Not only does it give them a new refreshing sense of character, it’s also impressive to watch them perform an entire show constantly bumping into each other and no one getting seriously injured. I’m here for it.”
Tina Rucksfeld has witnessed many bands lose important stage gear in transit over her 35+ years working for the TSA.
“Legend has it that so many bands have lost stuff here at the airport in Rochester, it’s regarded as a portal to a different dimension,” Rucksfeld said. “I remember one time, Steven Tyler lost his bag of microphone stand cloth while traveling here to play a concert. Apparently, he used Burger King and McDonald’s burger wrappers that night in place of them. He tried to sue us, but the case was dropped, and I ended up with a brand new set of rags to polish my antique porcelain clown dolls with.”
At press time, many Ghost haters claimed the waste basket stunt had already been done by Mercyful Fate and Blue Oyster Cult decades ago.
This album represents Elliott Smith’s first foray into solo artistry, a sparse and unembellished introduction to his musical journey. This album, stark and intimate, unfolds like a series of confessions whispered in solitude. With its minimalist approach, Smith strips back the layers to reveal the essence of his songwriting—delicate guitar work paired with his earnest, soft vocals. Each track provides a window into his introspective world, laying the groundwork for the intricate narrative voice defining his later works. While “Roman Candle” shines with raw brilliance in moments, it’s more a hint of the artist’s future potential than a peak. This foundational album is a crucial chapter in understanding Smith’s evolution, showcasing his burgeoning talent yet hinting that his most profound work was still on the horizon.
“XO” is Elliott Smith’s ambitious major label debut, a significant turning point in his discography that finds itself at number five. This album is a fusion of his lo-fi beginnings with a more polished and expansive sound, signaling a new chapter in his musical journey. Smith delicately balances his acoustic roots with richer, more complex arrangements, creating an intricate and deeply personal tapestry. “XO” showcases his ability to evolve without losing the core of his introspective essence, offering a collection of textured and layered songs, yet unmistakably Elliott. Despite its standout moments and broader soundscapes, “XO” doesn’t consistently reach the peaks of his later work, positioning it as a pivotal but not the definitive chapter in Smith’s evolution. It hints at his potential to compose well-produced rock songs, laying the groundwork for his upcoming albums.
“New Moon” delves into Elliott Smith’s vault, presenting a treasure trove of unreleased tracks and B-sides that offer a unique glimpse into his artistic journey. This collection, not officially part of his main studio catalog, serves as a deep dive into the raw, unpolished undercurrents of Smith’s songwriting. It’s akin to discovering a hidden drawer of sketches, each resonating with the authentic essence of his creative process. These tracks, spanning from 1994 to 1997, provide a poignant look at Smith’s evolving artistry, capturing moments of vulnerability and emotion. “New Moon” is a testament to Smith’s enduring talent, showcasing a side of him that’s both delicate and rugged and shows the intimate acoustic charm that defined his early work.
This album marks Elliott Smith’s evolution into a realm where his intimate acoustic origins meet a more ambitious, rockstar-like polish. His second major label release is praised by fans and critics for its rich tapestry of sound—melding diverse instrumentation with intricate arrangements. It signifies Smith’s transition, merging the heartfelt storytelling of his past with a grander, more intricate musical canvas. “Figure 8” captures Smith at a point where his artistry burgeoned into something more expansive while maintaining the emotional core that is quintessentially his. Despite its broader scope and Smith’s venture into ‘rockstar’ territory while retaining his distinctive songwriting charm, the album doesn’t quite reach the pinnacle of his discography. It’s a significant chapter in Smith’s musical journey, showcasing an unmistakable evolution and a step towards a more elaborate sonic landscape. Also, I always laugh at the thought of thousands of people accidentally listening to “Somebody That I Used to Know” from this album while trying to listen to Goyte’s smash-hit of the same name.
“From a Basement on the Hill” stands as Elliott Smith’s poignant posthumous release, a window into the uncharted territory he was beginning to explore. This album merges the raw emotional intensity of his earlier works with a daring, experimental edge, marking a shift to an even more bitter and cynical vibe. It’s an album that vibrates with urgency and innovation, capturing Smith at a potential turning point in his artistry. Each track resonates with a sense of what could have been as Smith delves into a blend of familiar sounds and new, experimental directions. “From a Basement on the Hill” is not just a collection of songs; it’s a bittersweet testament to Smith’s evolving genius, offering a tantalizing glimpse of a future tragically left unrealized. While it showcases his talent in raw, unfiltered glory, it also leaves us pondering the masterpieces that might have followed, positioning this album as an essential, yet hauntingly incomplete, chapter in his legacy.
The runner-up spot is deservedly claimed by “Elliott Smith,” an album that not only cements his status as an acoustic singer-songwriter par excellence but also distills the essence of his artistry. This eponymous release serves as a profound exploration of Smith’s ability to weave deeply personal narratives with nothing more than his voice and a guitar. Each track showcases his songwriting at its most raw and pure, with gentle strums and passionate vocals that connect directly to the listener’s soul. The album’s intimate, unvarnished honesty offers a quintessential Elliott Smith experience, presenting a collection of songs that are as hauntingly beautiful as they are starkly honest. It is a seminal work in his catalog, a must-listen for long-time fans and newcomers, encapsulating the raw emotional depth and minimalistic beauty that define his legacy.
Elliott Smith’s magnum opus, a testament to his profound artistry and emotional depth. This seminal album gained mainstream attention with its inclusion in the “Good Will Hunting” soundtrack, which not only brought Smith’s music to a broader audience but also immortalized tracks like “Between the Bars” and “Say Yes” in cinematic history. “Either/Or” is Smith’s most accessible yet deeply poignant work, blending his signature intricate guitar play with reflective lyrics to craft songs that resonate with a haunting beauty. The album’s raw, expressive power and impeccable songwriting highlight Smith’s genius at its peak, offering tracks demonstrating his unparalleled ability to weave intricate emotional narratives with simple, evocative acoustic arrangements. “Either/Or” is not just an album; it’s a masterclass in storytelling, a beacon in the indie folk genre, and the quintessential representation of Smith’s enduring legacy.
April is an ethical journalist with a lot of integrity dedicated to telling the truth. She is currently unemployed.
Splinter is old, wise, and a master of both ninjitsu and the mystic arts. He knows huckstery snake oil pitches and thinly veiled fascism when he sees it.
After an experiment gone wrong, Brick Bradley becomes the super-strong Bugman anytime he gets angry. You would think being a rage monster would make him a natural Peterson acolyte, but the man has a lot of insect DNA, and Insects tend to form matriarchal societies, which Dr. Peterson considers unnatural. Hey, wait a minute…
These guys are from Dimension X where they lived under the tyranny of Crang the warlord for years. They’ve seen conservative thought leader’s endgame first hand and they have no interest in seeing it again.
A lot of frogs are trans, especially frogs who adhere to a punk ethos. The Punk Frogs won’t even watch the Harry Potter movies anymore let alone Fox News.
Leo is the leader of the Ninja Turtles, a morally driven idealist not easily swayed by the fear-based rhetoric of neo-cons. He wields dual katanas into battle but somehow manages not to kill anyone, which requires a strong sense of control and mindfulness. That’s not to say he doesn’t have his weak points. He did study the art of the pick-up under Sensei Mystery, and he had a really embarrassing fedora phase.
Carter is not easily influenced by anyone. He rides a motorcycle and plays by his own rules. When your name is Carter, you kinda gotta be like that.
As an ambassador to the planet Shell-Ri-La, Kerma has received mounting criticism over the years for attempting to bring his peace-loving (cough cough SOCIALIST) ways here to earth.
Photos of Irma from the time she became 50 feet tall and wreaked havoc on the city are often pointed to by Ben Shapiro, who claims “This is the future liberals want!”
This samurai rabbit is all about honor, and would never align himself with an impeached president.
Once a replacement for Shredder, Lotus renounced her evil ways and became an ally of the Turtles. As a mercenary, however, she is a 2nd Amendment hard-liner, and was pulled into the murky trenches of the far-right on that one issue alone. In 2019 she employed Dana Loesch to attack her once a week, just to keep her edge up.
Due to the fact that he contains the consciousness of all four Turtles at once, Metalhead suffers from a variety of mental illnesses and is prone to dissociative episodes, making him Fox News’ prime demographic.
Slash is not too bright and comes from an abusive household. Bebop and Rocksteady mutated him into being just to do their chores. He’s the exact sort of disenfranchised lost soul the far-right loves to prey upon.
Raphael is cool, but rude. He’s a contrarian by nature, a rebel without a cause who challenges authority in all of its forms, the kind of guy who is quick to point out “the wokes are just as crazy as the MAGA crowd” and thinks the left just doesn’t understand Rogan.
He’s a cop first and a cool robot second. ACAB, yes, including REX-1.
Take a closer look, he’s Steve Bannon. You see it now, right?
You know how in the movies Mobsters are always watching Anderson Cooper on TV? No? Exactly.
In a genre known for boundary-pushing album covers—Cannibal Corpse is only the tip of the iceberg on this—somehow this is among the most horrifying. What could be more grim than early ‘90s televangelism? The music is good, of course, with some especially killer drumwork, and an increased emphasis on melody, which, depending on what aspect of death metal you find most appealing, could be a good or bad thing. The riffing doesn’t seem quite as inspired or sinister as on the previous two albums, though admittedly, those albums were tough acts to follow. Also, there’s something weirdly off-putting about Chuck using a sexist slur on the opening track. We know, we know, it’s ridiculous to get prissy about mild profanity on a fucking death metal record, but it just comes off wrong.
We’re pretty sure our readers are going to be cool with our bottom ranking, but we’re pretty sure we’re gonna get roasted on this one. This is a lot of people’s #1. It’s a perennial fan favorite. And it’s an important step toward Death becoming more technical and progressive, stylistic shifts that they’ll execute much more interestingly on subsequent albums. This one just doesn’t feel all that memorable or interesting by comparison. Darn good album? For sure. Top tier Death? Sorry, we just don’t see it.
And the spicy takes continue. This is also a beloved Death album, but if we’re being honest with ourselves, aren’t they all? Is there a single one that doesn’t have its share of devotees ready to go to the mat for it? But then, isn’t that true of all art? Somewhere, there must be people who sincerely think “St. Anger” or “Illud Divinum Insanus” (yup, we’re gonna namecheck those trainwrecks twice) is the apex of artistic expression and audio engineering, right? What is art anyway, really, when you think about it? For that matter, what is art appreciation but the mere illusion that anything has an inherent aesthetic value at all? Have these ponderous questions sufficiently distracted you from the fact that we ranked “Symbolic” in the bottom half? Nope, guess not, y’all still look pretty pissed off. Shit.
It’s the first Death studio album and also the first death metal album. Accept no substitutes. And if you’re a metalhead under the age of 50, just think of what a roundhouse kick to the face this album must have been if you’d been mainly listening to thrash and NWOBHM when you first picked this up. Surely, nothing could be heavier and/or more influential after the bar set by “Powerslave” and “Reign in Blood” and “Peace Sells” and “Master of Puppets” in the mid-’80s, right? Haha, nope, wrong. Pretend for a moment that you’re a 16-year-old kid who picked this thing up at your local record store on a whim: it starts off pleasantly enough, with a nice, slow groove to make you comfortable. Then Chuck comes in with the growling vocals and you’re like “OK, that’s different.” And then it just explodes into a whole new genre of music.
Do you like tempo shifts? Then this is probably your #1. “Sound of Perseverance” is Death’s most technical and prog-forward album, but the cool thing is that that doesn’t mean it sounds like Yes or King Crimson playing BC Rich guitars through a collection of HM-2 pedals, nor does it come across as wonky Gorgutsian theory-nerd stuff. There’s no barrier to entry on this in the way there is for a lot of bands’ more abstract and technical releases. This is just Death doing their thing: solid songwriting, in-your-face performance, and a rhythm section you could set your watch to. You can 100% dig it on that level. The musicianship here is top-notch, but in an understated and modest way, without the pretension and self-importance of metal at its techiest. Special acknowledgment must go to “Spirit Crusher,” a deceptively simple mid-tempo number in which Richard Christy nails one of the most weirdly inventive drum transitions imaginable.
Released barely a year after the debut, it’s clear that with this album, Chuck & co. were bursting with ideas—not to mention an affinity for the kind of breakdowns that every deathcore band of the last ten years has homogenized into over-compressed sonic mush—and they channeled those ideas into this absolute monster of a death metal classic. Like a lot of the greats of the genre, their sophomore album pretty much leaves the thrash influence behind and fully embraces the burgeoning Floridian death metal/Morrisound aesthetic. Slightly more sophisticated than “Scream Bloody Gore” in terms of composition and production, but still so brutal and raw that it holds up with the heavyweights of the era like “Altars of Madness” and “Deicide.” When it comes to in-your-face aggression, those latter two might sound more evil and relentless, but “Leprosy” takes top honors for cohesiveness, an early step toward proggy technicality, and overall execution. Also, little known fact, it held the world record for “Pinkest Metal Album Art” for many years until it was finally beaten out by 
This one seems to fly under the radar sometimes, and we honestly think that might have something to do with the understated cover art. No dead-eyed lepers in a Mad Max wasteland or demonic mountaintops or “Tales from the Crypt”-style Halloween imagery or bug-eyed Evangelical lunatics committing elder abuse this time around. But never mind the album art (which is killer in its own right): this album is, to allude to a totally different sort of metal band, “more Human than Human.” Everything that made “Human” a triumph and a fan favorite—the flawless musicianship, the who’s-who-of-metal lineup, the jazz fusion flourishes, the stunning basswork, the thought-provoking lyrics—is even better on “Individual Thought Patterns.” Right out of the gate with album opener “Overactive Imagination,” this record goes from 0 to 100 in no time flat. This is basically Death’s “…and Justice for All.” It’s got a consistently satisfying “Harvester of Sorrow”-esque gallop, the lyrics are angry but poetic, the song structures are heavy as hell but deceptively intricate, and the bass could stand to be a tad higher in the mix. Oh, and like Justice, it’s the single best album in its band’s respective discography. We said what we said.