To put into context what Denmark has given the world: Beer and Bacon. Oh.. and John “Faxe” Jensen.
Any more elaborations would simply get tangled up in opinions and lead to lengthy discussions and I absolutely hate discussions.
Enter Volbeat. Possibly the most pathetic band to ever creep from beneath the public restrooms at a Danish arse-fest. The token bands of Grunge have thankfully been left behind in a cover of anticipated dust (although Nickelback didn’t get the memo), most of them surrendered to overdoses of their drugs of choice, or now living a healthy life-style and appearing in TV Reality Shows. Besides the obvious offenders (I’m looking at you Perry Farrell), they have come to realise that their sound, and more often than not their way of singing belonged to a time gone by, and its best to just leave it there and evolve.
Denmark clearly were not invited to the International Music Awareness Conference where styles and genres were discussed at length, in which to provide clear guidelines for what is and what isn’t accepted in 2013 as a musical expression.
To even begin to explain how shit this band is would be to take the yearly deposits of fecal matter from the entire populations of China and India put together, plus their cattle and livestock, wild animals, tame animals, birds, fish in the sea, tourists, circus performers, priests, sadhus lost in mountain repose, migrating diseases and travelling merchants and add all of that to one side of “The Scale of Righteousness” and place the twats from Volbeat with their ironic Ramones T-shirts on the other side, and mark my words the shit would shift.
The Eddie Vedder-esque twang of the singers voice gives me ear-herpes, the music brings a ball-rash to my forearms, the band photos give me eye-warts. I don’t know where the world went wrong and sold these people instruments or encouraged them in their infancy with words like “You can do it guys, just try hard and believe”, “You are awesome, just keep practising”.. NO!!! ENOUGH! Stop fucking practising, stop singing, stop playing, stop touring, stop releasing your panda-ass cellophane pop records wrapped in “rock” vibes, stop thinking your’e Metallica, stop thinking you’re Rammstein, just please fucking stop everything and return to packaging sausages or whatever it was you had the brain-capacity to muster.
This kind of music is tailor made to be massive in Germany and Holland and probably Spain and Italy too. Yep, I just slammed most of Europe. Woteva.
If in any doubt of their credentials as a band, this was posted on youtube under their video! Nuff said:
“errr, im not, i repeat, not a simple man…… but… pleeezzzezee can these guys become the greatest band in the world!!!??? well ok after lady bla bla….. bla bla la bllaaaa bla. mmmmm”
If you need further proof just marvel at the Hemmingway-esque lyrics they must have spent centuries painting onto papyrus and drying in the sun for posterity:
A letter from her mother
Now dying in bed
Get on home quickly
With the medicine
No Money in her pockets
No wheels to get ahead
She grabbed her Colt 44
AND WHAT? Oh the suspense is killing me. DID SHE DIE DID SHE DIE DID SHE DIE????
Cover your laptop keyboard, press play and let the projectile vomiting begin: