LOS ANGELES — Members of Blink-182 were hurriedly escorted off stage just as they played the final notes of their set in order to make a frenzied mad dash across town to perform at another festival for aging punks, sources already late for soundcheck confirmed.
“This is easily the most stressful and lucrative 24 hours of my life. Everyone get out of the way, our escort is military and I don’t want anyone to get mowed over,” proclaimed Mark Hoppus while haphazardly coiling cables. “This way we can make it to Y2Krazy in Santa Monica and get to play for many of your friends who couldn’t make it out to see us here in downtown Los Angeles. I repeat, please don’t try to follow us, you will be rammed in the ass and our insurance won’t cover your car repairs.”
Not everyone was as excited about Blink’s wild escape, as it created a void of traffic and police officers in the city, as well as overtime costs for local police.
“The moment we pulled officers off their shift to help Travis Barker get to the west side of town faster, our incoming emergency calls increased by 75%. I understand how amazing it is to see a band that defines our teen and college years, but we can’t accommodate every artist with such an escort even if there are two millennial nostalgia fests happening at the same time,” explained Public Safety Officer Anton Lopez. “You know who won’t be at the show? The people who kept watching, waiting for emergency help.”
Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass dedicated today as “Blink-182 Day” in celebration of the group’s commitment to playing as many shows as possible in the area.
“We know this city is the entertainment capital of the world, and we can prove that by having the same artist headline multiple festivals in different locations on the same night without any issues. The city contracted every Land Rover available to accommodate the Kardashian-Barker-Jenner families,” said Bass while screen printing memorial shirts. “It shows how LA is ready for any challenge that ignores certain areas and only highlights our most affluent. And plus, the revenue boost from old guys in Vans is amazing.”
As of press time, it is still unconfirmed if the strange lights in the sky visible between the two venues were related to the shows.
“Lock up the Wolves” has a case of the Mondays, likely from a mix of ‘80s burnout and a looming sense of doom for the coming decade. The omens were already bad for Dio thanks to changes in the band’s lineup and the public’s music taste. All that aside though, the worst thing a Dio album can be is not fun (and to a lesser extent have a shite snare sound). This album feels like a colonoscopy, so keep these wolves locked up because they suck!
The only real “hot take” you’ll see on this list is that “Angry Machines” isn’t the dumpster fire it’s marked as by the angry Reddit machines. Ronnie and the boys make an honest pass at some new ideas, but unfortunately everything still feels caught in purgatory. All of the hard rock numbers have energy, but none of the great direction seen in Dio’s early work. That said, do yourself a favor and stay (or skip) to the end for closer “This is Your Life.” The surprise piano ballad is a genuinely moving reminder of why RJD’s voice ruled the metal world and beyond.
Being an ‘80s metal holdover in the ‘90s must have been soul-crushing. The kids had dumped perms for flannels and metal songs about goblins for grunge songs about gobblin’ prescription medication. Much like that last joke, “Strange Highways” depends on your tolerance: in this case a tolerance for a decent but not electrifying mid-90s swings at reigniting Dio’s zhuzh.
Though well-clad in the same Tolkien-drunk sword and sorcery trappings as its two older brothers “Holy Diver” and “The Last In Line,” “Sacred Heart” fumbles the trilogy by playing it too safe. Dio is a bit too sacred with what’s worked on “Sacred Heart,” which can kind of feel like a collection of B-sides for its predecessors. Part of this could be owed to the loss of guitar virtuoso Cambell, who jumped ship to join Whitesnake after rising tensions within Dio. David Coverdale was likely too busy scoring with everything that moved to notice the new guitarist, though.
Ronnie James Dio’s hatred of dragons is nothing short of admirable. Don’t give us that ‘oh you don’t get it they’re a metaphor for personal adversity’ bullshit. Dio wanted to kill dragons so bad he wrote an album about. Like, the “If I Did It” for killing dragons. And the album’s pretty decent, too! The band’s ‘00s revival period was still in full swing, with several tours and one more solid LP still to come.
Dio’s last studio album caps off an exceptionally productive period that began with 2000’s “Magica.” Though projects like Heaven & Hell would keep Dio the man busy even up to his death in 2010, “Master of the Moon” would be the last studio album in line for Dio the band. It’s a strong sendoff with great moments like “The Eyes.” You can debate the quality of each album into oblivion, but it is incredible how consistently badass Dio’s voice is on every song and every album, even toward the end.
“Dream Evil” is a great Dio record all the way through, with perhaps one of Ronnie’s strongest album openers in “Night People.” It succeeds where “Sacred Heart” fails thanks to more precise songwriting and a tactful use of ‘80s production wizardry. It also has on the whole more energy than “Heart,” which felt like a doom-metal precursor in all the wrong ways. The album would also see the departure of Appice, Bain and keyboardist Claude Schnell, effectively ending the classic lineup. But none of them were named “Dio” so ultimately it was fine.
Everyone loves a comeback record, and 2000’s “Magica” is a great one. This album has everything; killer tracks, a spooky concept about interdimensional demons, a dumbass made-up word for the title, Dio’s ‘90s malaise was officially over. The return of Bain and Schnell helped the band resemble something closer to the classic lineup. It’s a shame the planned “Magica” trilogy never panned out, as it would have been great to hear “Magic 2: The Streets” and “Magica 3: Tokyo Drift.”
Brimming with ideas while still tightly focused, high concept yet fully accessible, goofy but still badass, “Holy Diver” defied all of the odds and tore the metal world a new asshole when it dropped like an atomic bomb in 1982. Dio seemed to forgo any of the standard growing pains a new band would normally feel, instead entering a wildly productive period right out of the gate. Videos for chart-toppers “Holy Diver” and “Rainbow In The Dark” played around the clock on MTV, further solidifying Dio’s metal world takeover. After years under the thumb of bigger egos, Ronnie James Dio was finally on top. Ride the tiger!
While the Menzingers have never made a bad record, this one falls to the bottom because the rest of their discography is so strong. “Hello Exile” is incredibly well-made and there are some true hits that fit right in with the rest of the Menzingers touring setlist. That said, a lot of tracks don’t feel original enough make this album feel distinct. Even the highlights sound like when your friend corners you at a party to tell you a story you’ve heard a million times already.
This is a solid debut record. It has the seeds of what they would later cultivate over the next decade of their career: genuine heart, a penchant for literary references, and bright melodies. It’s all there, even if it’s a little unrefined. The entire record sounds like someone threw a huge party at their parents’ house–every lyric is a hoarse yell and the guitars and drums feel like they’re shaking the floor and knocking family heirlooms off the mantle. It ages very quickly because that level of frantic energy is difficult to hold on to. It’s similar to Minor Threat and Operation Ivy’s music in the sense that it could ONLY be created by young kids having a blast making music with their friends. It’s hard to not be charmed by that.
The turning point album. Things are beginning to click for the Menzingers on this album as they grow into a key participant in the Philly DIY scene. The screamed lyrics and wild energy are still present but they’re slowly beginning to use those elements to forge their brand of melodic punk.
Any worthwhile EP will cover everything a band is able to do in 5-6 six songs, and this is no exception. This Red Scare Industries release boasts some of the best tracks in the early half of the Menzinger’s career, so I’d be remiss to not at least address it. It packs so many Menzingers tropes it feels like you’re running down a checklist–an almost too sincere singalong chorus? Check. A loveable ripoff of Bruce Springsteen? Check. Self-medication with alcohol? Check. Alright boys, we’ve got ourselves an EP!
When “Rented World” was released, the Menzingers found themselves in the falling into trap door of being in a successful punk band: while they had finally gained a larger, devoted audience, the demands of touring all over the world were depleting them financially and emotionally. This record still has the same hopeless romanticism that was perfected in “Impossible Past,’ but they spit venom on some of these tracks. “I Don’t Wanna Be an Asshole Anymore” alone is a triumphant songwriting achievement. This single track is responsible for thousands of twentysomethings experiencing their first-ever moment of self-reflection.
Everything the Menzingers had been trying to express thematically and lyrically is in here with perfect melodies. Stories about unrequited love, shame, drinking, and fucking up are captured in picture-perfect clarity. If you’re 23 and hearing this for the first time after a breakup, I’m so happy for you but so sad for everyone else in your life who must now hear you talk about this album nonstop. The only reason this is #2 instead of #1 is that there have been similar masterpieces about nostalgia and romance written by other bands (cough cough Gaslight Anthem cough cough). These have always been powerful driving forces for the band, but the best Menzingers album was able to break through the rose-colored glasses with a harsh kick in the face from reality.
The fear of aging is palpable, especially working in a genre whose high water marks were made by literal teenagers. The Menzingers used this anxiety to fuel their best work with a simple question: Where are we gonna go now that our 20s are over? They answer with their most visceral, gut-wrenchingly honest lyrics about the guilt of years lost to drinking and touring which instantly connected with their audience, who lost years to drinking and following the Menzingers on tour. The timing of this release was perfect, as their main demographic was also getting older, but without any of the perks of being a rockstar. The sheer existential dread on this record also produced some of their best lyricism. They feel more motivated to preserve precious, hyper-specific moments in time. These aren’t as shiny as the ones in Impossible Past but it’s more important to draw attention to them given “After the Party’s” far bleaker context.
