Some of you may remember last March when a little column called Metal Mondays debuted via Up on the Sun, and immediately dove into the subjects matters of Pantera, strippers, Jack Daniel's, and YouTube.
Well, there must have been something you all liked about that article, aptly named New Music From Pantera Calls for Homemade Vulgar Display of Power (then again, you can't really go wrong with that combination), because a year later, Metal Mondays is still thrashing, pouring out healthy doses of metal on a weekly basis.
It also reinforces a fact that everyone already knows but which needs to be recognized from time to time, that there are indeed metalheads who give a shit. Any hardcore music fan goes above and beyond to devour information about their favorite band or musician that comes along, and even more dedicated fans seek it out on their own.
So for those who read Metal Mondays religiously, we thank you. And for those who don't, here's a little recap of the best and worst Metal Mondays over the past year.
After visiting Vinnie Paul's The Clubhouse strip club in Dallas, I pondered how Phoenix missed the scantily clad boat of heavy metal and BYOB strip clubs, and contemplate a petition to Bret Michaels and Job for a Cowboy to open.
Nothing like a good old-fashioned reminiscing about broken bones in a Rage Against The Machine Pit or jumping from two-story balconies at Lamb of God.
One of my pop-loving friends didn't believe that metal worked as perfect sex music. Showed her!
The anger from not getting work off to attend the Golden God Awards channeled nicely into a tribute to different type of golden god Jim Marshall, who had passed away that week.
A glimpse into how heavy metal is keeping us sane during this day in age, despite the backstage rock star breakdowns -- because biting bats' heads off and enacting decapitations is so '80s, obviously.
A look into metal's influences that stem back centuries, all the way to present day.
There are tons of facts to be had in here. For example, did you know that 18th-century classical composers who wore white face paint and were said to be possessed by the devil? Or that, if not for Muddy Waters, The Rolling Stones and Yardbirds would never have become bands? Or that without Southern classic rock, there would be no sludge metal?
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Run-ins with pushy, psycho groupies at music festivals, as well as an analysis to the question I constantly get asked: Am I a groupie?
Here's to another year of Metal Monday!