BLEED: Million Miles Away: CD

Mar 19, 2002

It’s a well-known fact, folks: I utterly fuckin’-A cannot stand the vast majority of metal-tinged musical mediocrity with all of its vile guitar-wank wizardry out there in limp-rockin’ HeadBangers Hell; and I especially loathe the sweaty nutsack grindmetal bullshit and watered-down meat-head rapmetal moronity that vomituously saturates the airwaves, video screens, and smoke-enshrouded nightclub stages all across this complacently incognizant land of ours. As for my particular metal tastes, I have no use whatsoever for bland corporate cocksuckers like Limp Dick Biscuit, Linkin TurdLog Park, Rage Against The Masses, PantyTerror, Shitknot, KornHole, Godcrack, Mama Roach, and other such knuckle-headed aural uselessness. Yep, if it’s not Black Sabbath, Motorhead, AC/DC, or Venom, I ain’t interested, and that’s all there is to it! With the obvious so belligerently stated, I must now confess that this disc is a bit of a sonic surprise to my jaded old punkrock ears. Even though Bleed nostalgically crank-out a mullet-curlin’ array of ‘80s-inspired glamour-puss hairspray-metal, it’s strangely appealing nonetheless. There’s a slight Southern-rock edge slithering throughout the songs and grungey distortion-heavy overtones that ornately embellish the true underlying textures within. Yeh, it’s ultimately MTV-friendly metal posturing ala somethin’ perfectly replicated from the colorful leather-clad backpages of the poofy-hair era (I’m hearin’ over-amped traces of Dokken, Tesla, The Scorpions, Guns’n’Roses, Motley Crue, and even a slight smidgen of Alice In Chains); but, damn, it takes me back in time to the pubescent stoned-immaculate days of my youth in high school right before I discovered the outrageous wonders of punk. A fuzzy-eyed period of time when I had shaggy, shoulder-length hair that vaguely concealed my long, dangly cross-shaped earrings; when I proudly wore Van Halen, Judas Priest, and Ozzy Osborne concert tees; when I feverishly smoked huge overflowing Tupperware bowls full of dark, sweet, Mexican-grown weed that’d do Jeff Spicolli of Fast Times At Ridgemont High proud. Wooooo-weee, dude, Bleed’s got me rockin’ like a hurricane with both hands vigorously thrustin’ the “devil sign” high in the air. Paaaaarrrtttyyy!

 –Roger Moser Jr. (no contact address)