| My Chemical Romance Slam Fame-Hungry Musicians on New Album |
[Nov. 30th, 2009|01:25 pm] |
source
After going the concept route -- or at least making a linear work on 'The Black Parade' -- My Chemical Romance are going in another direction on their forthcoming album, due early next year. Spinner visited the group in their L.A. studio to get an early preview and we were left suitably blown away by the nine very disparate songs we got to hear. The tracks ranged from the atmospheric 'Light Before Your Eyes,' a song frontman Gerard Way describes as Pink Floyd-ish, to the '80s-flavored 'Trans Am' and the punk/dance party tune, 'Death Before Disco,' which starts off with a Judas Priest 'Living After Midnight' vibe and turns into a lyrical salute to the Stooges, Velvet Underground and MC5.
Way tells Spinner the as-yet-untitled album is a definite answer to 'The Black Parade.' "Every single record we make is a response to the last," he says. "But sometimes it's not only a response to the last record -- it's a response to the opinion of that record or a response to the world at the time of that record."
What he sees and documents on the new album is a lot of rockers who are in music for the wrong reason. "There's a definite undercurrent of fame versus working class, people having stuff handed to them with zero talent versus working class kids that start a band," he says. "Rock 'n' roll is not red carpets and MySpace friends -- rock 'n' roll is dangerous and rock 'n' roll should piss people off. Right now, there's not a lot of that happening. What it is is a lot of people trying to be famous. That seems to be the goal."
In Way's opinion, that desire to be famous is messing up the sanctity of rock ''n roll. "It's bled into rock. It came from other places, but it's bled into rock 'n' roll and kind of tainted it a bit," Way says. "This record is really a response to that as well."
MCR certainly have the resources and notoriety to bask in that fame as well, so how do they resist that temptation? "Instead of us panicking and trying to see where we can grab the money or grab the opportunity, we just wrote music instead," Way says. "We tried to write a great record; that was our response to things. I think that writing a great record will sell records these days, as opposed to doing every other f---ing thing that people seem to be doing to sell a record." |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Dec. 1st, 2009|07:50 pm] |
she's touching both all the time
torn between grass and sky
so drawn to her, no eyes to see
her life line fatally stretching
she is magnetic in her pull
the attraction of the two undeniable
she can't decide which she'd like
so she keeps them both
in her pocket at her side
one loves her to the sun
one claims to love her
more than the other
both want to give her the world
and vow to be always and only hers
the word is on the plate
she will choose green or blue
and that decides her place
on the ground or up in space
blue offers devotion and
servitude to her every notion
green gives her peace
fertility and jealousy
she can't, insider her head,
distinguish either from the red
forces beyond our control
silently decide our fate
the trees shake
the earth quakes
and she aches
and she breaks |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Dec. 1st, 2009|07:45 pm] |
just needed to distance myself
maybe take a break
drove around a bit
looking for something to do
passed the signs
passed the lights
no one saw me
no one sees me
overlooked with the wind
pinching my skin
to see the white
i wanted to know
what it looks like
nails to my knees
trying to feel something
i'm a mess
i know it
under the lamppost
i see golden leaves
very misleading
in the light of day
they turn to green
i can hold them in my mind
i can touch them
i can crush them
sitting next to
the warm sensation of you
i know where i belong
i accept my invisibility
if it means that we can be
and so you understand
for everything i say,
for everything i do,
keep in mind that
theses axles and fumes
brought me to you |
|
|
| Definition of emo |
[Nov. 30th, 2009|09:24 pm] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Home | ] |
| [ | *mood |
| | Cynical | ] |
| [ | *music |
| | In Any Other World | ] |
Another word to judge Kick a man, girl, boy, human while their down I'd rather you say '*I don't care your sister just died* "I could care less that your parents split* like a tree in lightning I'd rather you tell me to go to hell Emo is just a sugar coat Putting candy on a hypocrite I'll deal my way You deal yours It's 10-7 in the karma game And guess whose got the ball? Posted via LiveJournal.app. |
|
|
| Fill In This Blank |
[Nov. 30th, 2009|08:29 pm] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Home | ] |
| [ | *mood |
| | Depressed | ] |
| [ | *music |
| | Headfirst For Halos | ] |
Today
I finally understood why
People kill themselves
It's not as hard as you might think
When you realize shit happens you can't
change
You do shit you can't take back
He's bitter and I know why
She's crazy 'cause it's in her blood
So if I can't do anything
What's the point?
When I'm dead
You sure as hell can't blame me
Oh
But if you do
I won't be able to fucking hear you Muah. *Thanks for letting me post on here Nikki! Xoxo* Posted via LiveJournal.app. |
|
|
| Nothing To Repair |
[Nov. 27th, 2009|06:06 am] |
I have a sinners heart,
I drag my way slowly home
cursing my tired bones
(a million transgressions
echoing alongside
the creaks that footsteps make
on this wooden floor
in this abandoned home)
I own a simple heart
I know the things you need,
I know you'll make it right
(there's nothing here
to repair
when there is no rain,
just leaves falling desperately
from trees
[from the heavens
they descend
and drain from me
my disbelief])
I've got broken bones
and constellations
that don't understand
my cordial convalescence
and you're not willing to stay
so I'll stay clean and pray
while this divine fire burns gray
(I know the things you need,
I hope you'll get me right)
As a side note, all three of the poems I just posted are still works in progress, with huge room for change. Most of the time when I post they're completed or virtually completed. Not so much on these three. I changed them considerably just when I posted them, I'll probably rework them quite a bit more still..... |
|
|
| Mannequins |
[Nov. 27th, 2009|05:47 am] |
Prudent Desire
show me your face
in this artificial light
(the only place
where we can feel safe
anymore)
We are all
so capable
of such egregious inhumanity
We treat each other with such dark disregard
spawned from a frightful fear
enduring individual tears
as if they were nothing more
than faceless mannequins
(frozen memories
left in the corners
of the dark,
as statues of divinity
monuments to all
that we have been
and what
we can no longer be)
Glory to purity
and this holy heart,
so rare,
like a lotus
drifting blissfully on the ocean
after a careful kiss
(We are digging
our own graves)
Here,
are the things I need,
Here,
are the things I keep
(Every metaphor for chaos
that exists
and every bit of beauty
spawned from that which is abstract
could give birth to symmetry
if we'd just believe)
But the elegy lingers
(We let hope slip
through our grimy fingers) |
|
|
| Returning To A Familiar Home |
[Nov. 27th, 2009|05:34 am] |
This farewell
tastes sweet
and I still feel
the placid loneliness
that drifted in
after your goodbye
but somehow
it is still truth
that isolation is safety,
being alone,
is being deep
within the calm and peaceful heart
of a ghost
Your eyes
discarded me
and drowned
words
in the notes
and proverbs
I sought destruction
while snow fell
with paragon patience:
determined to descend
onto my warm skin
and though I breathe
then choke on this
I have learned
to be perfect
and to exhale
Winter,
and desire
in a single breath
(you are a joyous goodbye,
sending me silently back
to this sacred safety)
So Sanctity
the countless wrinkles in your skin
are just insuperable smiles
(Sorrow is just another Sin) |
|
|
| Fire |
[Nov. 26th, 2009|01:07 am] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Kitchen | ] |
| [ | *mood |
| | cold | ] |
| [ | *music |
| | Wasted By Cartel | ] |
Uncontrollable
Uncontainable
Murder in the form of flames
The haze consumes her mind
Fire that's what I am
I'm the darkness that's killing her
Red with rage
You call me death
But I create life
For those whose is ending here
You hear screams but in reality it is silent
You feel terror but I heal the numb
I saved her
From drowning in sorrow
Shielded her from the pain she inflicted
Saved her from herself
For I am fire
So don't call me death
Call me a savior |
|
|
| AGAIN |
[Nov. 25th, 2009|10:56 pm] |
| [ | *mood |
| | melancholy | ] |
| [ | *music |
| | Gravity-Sara Bareilles | ] |
I am not...
the holy happy man
you think I am.
I am not...
the endless smile
that brings light to the faces of many.
Sometimes...
I feel less then.
Less then the brother,
less then the lover,
less then the person
you so lovingly claim to see.
I hurt.
I frown.
like you
I've ups and downs.
Most days...
just down.
I'm much more broken
then I could tell you.
fear and doubt
cloud more of my existence then I let on.
And, I wish I could change that.
Make it fade
the way smiles so often do.
But every moment of joy,
seems lined with worry.
Waiting for the next shoe to drop.
Waiting for the bubble to pop.
The moment when the happy stops.
I'm afraid...
afraid of opening my heart
and letting love in again.
Being defenseless again.
Giving all of me again.
Because the moment I do. . .
It may leave again.
again again again again
And I just...can't do it...again. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Nov. 25th, 2009|11:26 am] |
Don't bash, I have never written before (I did at around 13, two poems *shudders*)
Inspired by a photograph of Bukowski!
He is that odd man your parents invite over. He’s been there done that. Your mother is afraid of him telling one of his stories while you and your brother are sitting at the diner table, he still does it, omits the dirtiest of details and camouflages certain words but you still get it. He is the epitome of Dirty Old Man.
When you were children he would play with you and your brother, hide and seek, Cowboys and Indians, he’d even read you bed time stories. Now he looks at you different. He looks and smiles, the same way as when he tells those dirty stories. He looks at every inch of your body and you wonder what is he smiling at. You are still only 12 you don’t understand. And then he is talking “She’ll be a beauty when she grows up!”, “I wonder if that innocence is going to last!”. And he laughs and your father doesn’t know what to do, be offended or agree.
He is talking to you now, he greets you with “Oh my have you grown!”, “Gymnastics are really working good for you!”. He teases you and tantalizes you, throws sarcastic remarks when you come out to the table with black nail polish and heavy make up at 14. But he still stares and smiles.
You are 16 and pretty, boys look at you, they stare and smile and you understand. He was looking at every inch of your body seeing whom you’ll be, he was smiling at the girl he’d like to meet in a bar and tell those stories to, not omitting the dirtiest of details or camouflaging certain words. The girl whom he’d bed. Whose parents show a little ceramic sculpture praising her dexterity. “She’s good with her hands, isn’t she?” he answers grinning. And he wants to know if you are. And he wants to know you, not the daughter or the older sister. He wants to know how your cheeks would flush and your mouth would open ever so slightly while his hands roam your young inexperienced body. So he stares and smiles and wonders. |
|
|
| The Seasons Are Soluble |
[Nov. 25th, 2009|02:48 am] |
The city lights
they shine
in a distance
that is palpable
and the fire cracks
the trees
have lost their leaves
(lost them in
the cold)
We are all haunted
by ghosts
crawling through our memories
(caught by the months
as they pass
and we leave a little more behind
with every forward step)
So if you feel
like now is the time to fall
then I'll let you go
Your affluent heart
bursts
with generosity
and something
that I can not understand
yet though I try
I am unable to synthesize
hope and pain
into something
that you'd understand
November is white
and tempting
winter to come quietly
into its fallacy
while December is gray,
painted by numbers
and selected memories
(I feel better when I get some sleep
I'll feel better when the winter's gone) |
|
|
| Frank Iero vs. The Secret Service |
[Nov. 24th, 2009|05:29 pm] |
Link was posted on the Current: Music blog: article appears @ Altpress.com:
From The Editor's Floor: My Chemical Romance Alternative Press - Tim Karan on 11/24/09 @ 7:00 AM - altpress.com
HOMELAND INSECURITY: THE DAY MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE'S FRANK IERO MET THE MEN IN BLACK
MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE are putting the final touches to their follow-up of 2007's majestic The Black Parade. During a break in the studio, guitarist FRANK IERO recalls some of the great highs and lows he experienced during their break. Some of those experiences--good and bad--revolved around writing, recording and touring with his side-project, LEATHERMOUTH, whose debut album XO, appeared on Epitaph earlier this year. The good was that he honed his home-recording skills, did a lot of writing (which has helped inform MCR's next disc) and became a maniac frontman while Leathermouth were on tour with REGGIE AND THE FULL EFFECT during the summer of 2008.
The bad? Well, as the guitarist has made clear in interviews, Leathermouth are his vehicle for unfiltered ranting (i.e. "Sunsets Are For Muggings," "Your Friends Are Full Of Shit"). But it was track No. 4 on XO, "I Am Going To Kill The President Of The United States Of America" (about George W. Bush), which earned Iero a visit from the Secret Service. Wondering what happens next?
"The government comes to your house, searches everything and talks to your wife for hours," says Iero, adjusting the sleeves on his hoodie. "Then you have to get a real expensive attorney to keep you out of prison for five years. I had a long talk with the gentlemen of the Secret Service. [It was the] straight-up dark suits, sunglasses, Men In Black-vibe--I thought they were going to do the mind-erase thing [like in the movie].
"They said, 'Why did you write the song?' And I told them the truth. I was on tour [overseas] with My Chem at the time, and every time I turned around, there were Anti-American rallies. I wrote a song from the standpoint of the rest of the world. It wasn't from my personal point of view--it was just from someone who sees warmongering going on. I wrote the song, and the title is as blatant as humanly possible, because I wanted it to be that way. The Secret Service asked, 'Do you think someone is going to hear this song and kill the president?' And I said if they're going to kill the president, they're going to do it without listening to this song. That's like saying everyone who reads Jonathan Swift's A Modest Proposal is going to eat a baby. They didn't think that was too intelligent, so they said, 'Well, if you re-release the record with the song on it or perform the song live ever again, you'll be arrested."
What's really perplexing about the whole incident is how the agency even learned about the song in the first place. Iero says he's not sure who it was, but opines that it was a British writer who contacted the Office of Homeland Security looking for a comment. Clearly, Iero could've turned the whole thing into a massively public freedom-of-speech argument; now, he's just happy the whole thing is behind him. "I'm married and I want to have kids," he resigns. "I don't want to go to jail for five years." --Jason Pettigrew
Source: http://altpress.com/features/editorsfloormychem.htm |
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
0skar's Friends Page