LANSING, Mich. — The coat check at the Iron Smelt Theatre was filled almost exclusively with capes during fantasy metal legends Polarian Amulet show, event staff reported while sweeping up prosthetic elf ears.
“For people who put on such airs of adventure and whimsy they sure can cop an attitude when it comes to the handling of their capes,” said coat check attendant Molly Chambers. “Each cape had its own rules that I was somehow supposed to know. One guy threw quartz dust in my eyes for using the wrong velvet gloves while touching his cape. Someone else insisted I steam their sleeveless outer garment every 15 minutes so the hemstitching wouldn’t fray. We’re a coat check, not a museum. The worst was how they only referred to their cape by its proper name. There was no ‘the black one with the red lining,’ only ‘I’ve come to retrieve Lordicai!’ As for tips, I got about a thousand guest passes to the same polycurious magic show.”
One fourth-degree succubus who identified themself only as Xalystra was none too pleased with the cape check service.
“That rube running the operation didn’t know the first thing about capesmanship,” said the longtime fantasy metal fan. “She was hanging capes from feuding mother realms right next to each other. Another time the hood fringe from one cloak got tangled in the neck clasp of another and you could practically see the mana draining from both! Having to explain the obvious difference between a Celtic knot and a Triskelion spiral caused half of us to miss the opening of the show when the band hatches from a dragon egg. Now I’ll never get invited to the backstage virgin sacrifice!”
Veteran hospitality coordinator Patricia Gill was sympathetic of the frustrated concertgoers.
“Coat check failed to honor the cardinal rule of any successful event; know the act! If you’re bringing a band like Polarian Amulet you better believe outlandish outerwear are coming with it,” said Gill. “Patron eccentricity is no excuse for not being prepared to meet their needs. I vividly recall staffing a snake check at a Limp Bizkit concert in Clearwater. It went off without a hitch save for one pit viper we had to put down after throat striking a corndog vendor; you learn to roll with the incidentals.”
At press time, the Iron Smelt Theatre had postponed all future performances while venue personnel worked to cast a summoned demon back to whatever hell it came from.
Short of kicking out Kelly’s boyfriends, Al Bundy doesn’t really take much interest in his kid’s lives. If it’s not Psycho Dad or something No Ma’am affiliated, the likelihood of him showing up to your show is pretty slim. After a long day of selling women’s shoes at the mall, which leads us to ask how in God’s name he was able to afford his house, a man is entitled to sit on the couch with his hands down his pants. As we get closer and closer to middle-aged, we’re starting to see why doing that is so appealing.
If it’s not related to sports, we can’t see Ray taking any sort of interest. His kids mostly seemed like they were background characters anyway, so who even knows if music is something they’d be interested in. The writers didn’t really do much in the way of exploring those characters beyond them being Ray and Debra’s kids, so that’s really more on the writers for not taking the time to develop them more. If anything, he and Debra should be using that time to attend couples counseling because that marriage was clearly on a downward slope.
To his credit, for lack of understanding his son (his words not ours) he is generally supportive of Bobby’s endeavors, even if it’s only as the result of Peggy forcing him to. But even the most supportive parents have their limits and we’re pretty sure that Hank Hill wouldn’t even qualify drone metal as music. Bluegrass, country, classic rock, and even the occasional boy-band are more his speed. Besides, he’d probably spend the whole evening complaining how asinine the whole thing is. You could try pointing out the pyrotechnics are powered by propane, but he may not approve of propane being used in such a manner and rat you out to the fire marshall.
Neither of the Griffin parents are an example of good parenting. Given that Peter openly hates Meg, goes out of his way to avoid spending any real time with Chris, and has foisted parenting duties for Stewie onto his dog, he’s probably going to spend the whole evening at the Drunken Clam. Also, it’s canon that he’s a KISS fan so drone metal will probably sound like a robot with diarrhea to him. This is likely for the best as he’ll likely spend your entire set insisting you play ‘Surfin Bird.’ Which sounds like a good cover on paper, but your band doesn’t do covers.
Since the story of how he met your mother took about seven years to tell, there’s a good chance that you’re not making the show either. And, to be frank, this is starting to become a problem. We don’t want to say there’s talk of you being kicked out of the band, but let’s just say your frequent absences and lateness have not gone unnoticed. Seriously, get your shit together, we told you when we invited you to join the group we needed someone reliable and we’re not buying those bullshit excuses that your dad won’t stop telling you his goddamn story.
Guy Blank appears to have locked-in syndrome or something so, this is a hard no. Maybe if he were still fully in control of his mental and physical capacities, there’s a chance. But, it’s hard to imagine a guy whose only daughter becomes a boozer, a user, and a loser was the best parent. Again, we’re just speculating, but there are studies that support this theory.
At the time of this writing there’s a strong possibility he’s either in prison or a fugitive from the law. Not that this is any kind of real excuse for him not being more present in your life. Your therapist has been over this time and time again that this is toxic behavior and it’s detrimental to your own personal growth and self-esteem to make excuses for him. Sure, you’re expected to be a character witness at his fraud trial, but God-forbid he makes just a little time for you. He had a one-armed guy teach his kid’s life lessons by traumatizing them. When are you going to come to your senses and just cut him out of your life already?
You’re probably wondering why we’re ranking the frontman of the Rippers so low. Allow us to explain: first of all, he’s an Elvis guy so drone metal probably isn’t his jam. Secondly, he’s probably too busy hanging out with the Beach Boys. What was the deal with that anyway? Did the Tanner’s have dirt on them or something? They just always were inexplicably at their house. The series really should’ve done more to address that.
Oh where do we begin with this piece of shit. Even if he did come to your show, he’d probably try and steal some of the door money and take and use all your drink tickets to buy appletinis, which we’re sure the bartender at a metal venue is not going to enjoy making. Plus, would you really want him there, awkwardly hitting on girls half his age and genuinely making you wish your mom went through with the abortion? Fuck this human parasite.
Did he have a name? We can’t remember and our internet connection is kind of shitty so Googling it wasn’t really an option. Actually, we don’t really know much about him. That show was a little before our time and we weren’t really in the target demographic. Maybe we shouldn’t have included him on this list, but we kind of needed to pad the numbers. We’re sorry.
Homer has been shown to have appreciation for rock music, so he’s got that in his favor. Also, he took his kids to the show’s in-universe version of Lollapalooza, which let’s be honest, most of our dad’s probably wouldn’t have done that for us. Sure he might be quick to anger, and a borderline alcoholic, but at his core, he does legitimately care for his children. He’s already got tinnitus so he won’t really have much to complain about noise-wise. Just make sure he doesn’t find out about drink tickets because, well as we mentioned earlier with borderline alcoholism.
Not only will he be there, he’s probably fronting the money to host the show. Now, before you go giving Frank platitudes for supporting the Philly metal scene, it’s probably that he’s got ulterior motives if footing the bill for this one. Expect to see Wolf Cola being heavily promoted and sketchy bridge people in the crowd. Okay, the latter crowd would probably feel right at home come to think of it. Though, you should probably tell the doorman not to let Pondy in. Either way, don’t expect to get paid for this gig.
Yes, with a but. That but being that it only if it were for Ross. Throughout the series, they seemed to indulge his every whim and shortsighted decision to the point that it likely severely stunted his emotional growth and development as an adult. We figure that’s the only reason for Ross’s increasingly bizarre, childish, and selfish behavior throughout the series. Come to think of it, Ross seemed to be a mostly absent Dad for his kid, so maybe we should be asking if he would have gone.
Danny Tanner’s attempts to prove to his kids that he is still their ‘rad, bad, dad’ range from cringe to downright traumatizing. So, as much as you try to fight it, he will be there front-row center, and probably trying to clean your pedal board mid-set due to his undiagnosed obsessive-compulsive disorder. At the same time, he seems to have an inability to allow his kids to spread their wings and grow, so there’s a chance he won’t approve of drone metal and force you to quit the band. If that happens, just tell him he doesn’t love you anymore and that you hate him and he’ll cave and no one will really learn anything.
Like it or not, he’s coming. He will wear a band tee, probably make a sign or something, tell everyone there he’s your dad, and then injure himself attempting to stage dive in violation of the venue’s strict policy on that. His attempts to fit in will result in something that will come across as embarrassing at best and extremely racist at worst. The best thing you can do in this situation is take advantage of enthusiasm by getting him to work the merch table or lug all the gear. You can justify this by saying you’re doing it for his own advantage, which likely isn’t far off.
What’s new is always bad and what’s bad is always new… this adage can be applied to your grubby klezmer band named after your cousin’s trapper keeper, but it cannot and should not refer to Cake’s sixth/latest LP as of now known as “Showroom of Compassion.” You want passion, it’s always in fashion! Anyway, Cake’s discography may have some meh songs but the band doesn’t have a bad album; no no no. And, in the Easter egg to end all Easter eggs, the final track on “Showroom of Compassion,” the simply and elegantly named “Italian Guy” clocks in at, wait for it, three minutes and eleven seconds. For the plebs in the room, that’s freaking 311! That number inspired more teen pregnancies than it should have but also didn’t. In closing, this is Cake’s lone independent release because they’re independent men.
2004 was an incredible year for the world in both politics and music: GW “Nepo Baby Of Babies” Bush became our nation’s vice dictator for the second of two terms, which proved Relient K’s 2004 blockbuster “American Idiot” title track correctly in spades for all Moses’ in Urban Spaces. Dick Cheney may want a word with you, me, and everyone we know. Cake’s fifth album “Pressure Chief” was also released that year of all things years, but other Cornerstone acts sadly superseded it. Still, Cake has a high caloric amount of super fans, all of which are prescribed Ozempic, and “Pressure Chief” won one or more for the Gipper! The band’s last major label release, and literal conglomerate LP to hit stores (remember those?) altogether debuted at an impressive seventeen on the Billboard 200, proving that the Sacramento icons had many in the palm of their hands.
Rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle up so close: 1994 was the true year that punk rock broke through the mainstream with such blockbuster bands as The Offspring, Green Day, Rancid, and Anal Cunt getting a flurry of radio acclaim. In addition, incredible movies like “Pulp Fiction,” “The Shawshank Redemption,” “Forrest Gump,” and “Citizen Kane” were also released said supernatural year. It’s interesting to note, and we use the word “interesting” to describe an ugly painting, that Cake started their full-length studio album career in the nineteen ninety four with an album that was “interesting” in an interesting way. Yeah. Fun fact: This album was recorded at a place called Pus Cavern. Yeah part 2. Anyway, ardent supporters of desserts, sweets, and vegemite may scoff at this “low” rating, but that’s show business, baby!
Cake’s fourth album is their best album from this century BY FAR and not just because of a short jacket and long skirt, but because the songs are consistent quality-wise, making this LP the first to be mentioned here with nearly zero filler; shadow stab us if you disagree, we will still LOATHE you madly. Deservedly, this album went gold, which during this century is a huge accomplishment, and contains their best song title, albeit not best song, in “Meanwhile, Rick James…”. Speaking of colored awards, single #1 from “Comfort Eagle,” “Shirt Skirt, Long Jacket” went platinum and we ain’t mad about it; nay nay nay. If you have the chance, watch its music video even if you’ve seen it before.
Cake’s third album altogether/last of three ‘90s efforts, contains one of their biggest, if not biggest hit single, at least chart wise, “Never There”; you are never ever there and we are never ever sorry. Also, we posit the supreme and earth-shattering opinion that this album’s opener, “Satan Is My Motor,” is not only the band’s finest opening track (sorry, Nancy Sinatra), but also the best song in their vastly superior sonic catalog; hear our motor caaaall. “You Turn The Screws” is almost as good, and “Sheep Go To Heaven” is the most haunting and gorgeous portrayal of livestock this side of the Mississippi. Back to “Never There”: Its opening line truly sucks you in from the start and the badass riffery/horn lines keep ya guessing/stressing. You may be more of a McNugget than a Copperfield, but this album is for everyone!
The only “no skip” release of Cake’s career, which is likely your gateway drug to this band, whether you tools are willing to admit it or not, “Fashion Nugget” is an all killer no filler of a sophomore LP, and wins the gold here, whilst Frank Sinatra sings “stormy weather” sans Daniels. The world wasn’t prepared for a mainstream assault of spoken word musings with a trumpet sans upstrokes, but the band was thinking of someone for whom the world still burns, and created a studio album worth surviving for; to quote Kurt Angle, “It’s true! It’s true!” We may get hate for this, but “Fashion Nugget” also contains perhaps, perhaps, perhaps the best lineup of Cake of their career, and that’s all we have to say about that, except it isn’t. In conclusion, friend is a four letter word and we can’t spell and/or speak English good.
