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They’re Coming In For The Kill

26/5/2016

It’s the Free Bird of metal, only tighter, more controlled, less indulgent, not a note wasted, still building, all building, to that final vocal line. The final prayer of a dying man.

Hmm, let’s see. I’m going to guess twelfth birthday, here. Maybe thirteenth, but twelfth feels more likely. Appetite, The Headless Children et al. have sunk their vampire fangs deep into me, and I now shun the sunlight fields of chart pop. No, what my darkened, corrupted soul craves is raw rock and metal, preferably still dripping blood.

Yeah, I was kind of a dick at twelve.

Anyway.

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A TANKED UP MOB

4/5/2016

That smoke has a name, and the name is prejudice.
And when deployed in this way, it serves only to obscure the truth.

My Life In Horror

Every month, I will write about a film, album, book or event that I consider horror, and that had a warping effect on my young mind. You will discover my definition of what constitutes horror is both eclectic and elastic. Don’t write in. Also, of necessity, much of this will be bullshit – as in, my best recollection of things that happened anywhere from 15 – 30 years ago. Sometimes I will revisit the source material contemporaneously, further compounding the potential bullshit factor.

This is not history. This is not journalism. This is not a review.

This is my life in horror.

A Tanked Up Mob

It was going to be something else. It was supposed to be something else. Sorry Alex. Sorry Jim. My Life In Horror does Film Gutter will have to wait.

Sorry to you too, dear reader. Not much light in this one. Some, but not much. Too sad. Too angry. Too tired.

I was ten years old when Hillsborough happened. Unlike some earlier and later tragedies, I don't have a vivid memory of the event itself. As I've previously mentioned, my family didn't turn the news off, so I'd have seen it, but I have no immediate memory of the day itself. What I do have is an association of a sense of dread with the name. The very word casts a shadow inside. That kid feeling of Something Bad. I knew Hillsborough was Something Bad. I knew that People Died. Were, in point of fact, crushed. The figure 96 hadn't registered. Nor had the whys and wherefores.