I Love Waking Up In The Morning With An Election

Hai Guise,

I've received word that select members of the blog reading public find my blog posts a tad wordy. As in; I use too many words. As a result, instead of describing my trip to the Citadel of Democracy with the words what I done learned - I took loads of pikchurs instead. Proceed...

*NOTE* They wouldn't let me take pictures inside the Citadel, so I've added a picture displaying how much fun I had whilst voting.

Veni, Vidi, Vici.

Cimla, Cimla, Cimla.

L'Espirit D'Escalier or; Where The Fuck I've Been Since January

Hai Guise,

This is a little bloggage about why I haven't been up to much on here for a while. I'm a lazy fucking peen. End of chat.

Not much has appertained since then to be fair. I fear change. I'm still a Paperwork Monkey, but now my beard is hawge. Mahoosiver than ever. Also, my current FB profile pic is the actual pic that the banner for this blog was shooped off.

I have a number of sensational gigs coming up too: The Bronx in Clwb, Rage Against The Machine in Finsbury Park (Yep, the free one), Glastonbury Festival and Between The Buried And Me in Camden Underworld. Sch-ting!

Fundamentally my blog intentions (blintentions?) have been good. I've been outlining a mammoth project with my parter-in-grime: Dean "Bag" Williams, regarding the vocabulary and vernacular of South Wales since the beginning of the year; which should find it's way to you within a few weeks...

In the meantime I have a few new ideas that you'll be feasting your eyes on within a few days - excelsior!

Expect more lists of awesome stuff and a rebuttal that has been years in the making...

FUCKING YEARS.

LET'S DO THIS.

iFap, iFap or; How To Haemorrhage Money Whilst Staying True To Yourself.

I'm Super, Thanks For Asking.

I work in a supermarket. It's a widely known factoid of King. What with supermarkets being so damn super all the time it means that the stores are rammed all year round. As a result, the staff of said supermarkets never get a chance to let their hair down during the festive season. This means that while all you "Monday-To-Friday-Nine-To-Fivers" get to feel each others dangly bits during December we have to do it in January. It's OK though, we still get to open crackers.

Last Saturday (30/1/10) was my staff party. This is a Saturday Night Story.

"£15 a ticket and I bet you there won't be any wine on the tables..."

Don't get me wrong, the actual staff party was textbook. A wedding reception hall had been miraculously shifted back in time 6 weeks so that the world was still reeking with the stench of Christmas. Cheap crackers, napkins emblazoned with holly et al. After a minor fiasco which marked an unfashionably late arrival for me, I managed to muscle my way onto a table of pretty young things just so they could watch me get gravy all in my beard. While we were eating food the DJ (I use the term "DJ" very liberally here) spun some of my favourite tunes. This was met with mixed reviews in my brain considering that I could either: A) Leave my food and get crunk on my own to "Soul Man" by Sam & Dave, or B) Om nom nom nom. I chose the latter and just grooved my chair deeper into the carpet.

Once the Longford banquet was over the DJ *cough* continued to spin more of my favourite tunes including the collossal "Nutbush City Limits" by Tina Turner. I nearly got naked. The night was filled with much predictable works doo related debauchery including one genuine wounding of a teamleader and the obligatory dance-off. The venue was kicking out at midnight so it had been the consensus among me and friends all along to head to the bright lights of Swansea. More importantly, Oceana. Dun dun dun.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. Wreched Hive of Scum and Villainy - Got it."

Two six seater chariots were summoned to transport us to our destination. This is when I first ignored my gut instincts about bailing home. The ride itself was a joy as I had been nominated to handle the money at the end of the journey. This was principally due to the fact I can count to 20 without having to take my shoes and socks off. Also, I was closest to the driver. The stagecoach dropped us off right outside our port of call; The Reichstag of nightclubs - Oceana. I wonder if there'll be a fire tonight?

For those of you that are unfamiliar with this particular establishment it is a essentially a massive nightclub. It has many rooms - some large, some small, all of which are decorated differently and play different genres of music. It's as if the cultural aesthetics of a typical "nightclub" have been fused with that of a... I don't know... a motherfucking supermarket? Many aisles, some large, some small, all which have different layouts and different stock.

Stood outside this shadowy Lidl of the night I ignored my gut instincts for a second time. "Fly, you fool." Instead, I clicked my boot heels and was promptly Oscar Mike.

"I'm sure I can feel a spot of Stigmata coming on..."

We entered the clubs "Bar Quarter." It's the ground level portion of the nightclub that's free to enter but also has access to the clubs wallet-busting underbelly. The half a dozen of us that had breached the building had arranged to meet the rest of our clan downstairs. My feet were dragging slightly at the thought of it and my motor mouth suddenly started enquiring as to whether or not we should have a beer in here first, to meet the rest of the guys. To buy some time. I could really go for some sweet, sweet time right about now.

This idea was quashed and we mashed into the doorway to the paydesk. Enter: Mouthbreather.

Bouncer: "Have you got a hair band mate?"

King: "Am I in a hair band?"

Bouncer: "Have you got a hair band?"

King: "Yes, why?"

Bouncer: "You'll have to put your hair back mate."

King: "You're serious?"

Bouncer: "Yes, mate. And tuck it into your collar."

Cereal. They made me put my hair back and tuck it into my collar. Burn baby, burn. You know what was priceless though? I fucking did it. Just like he said. Enter gut instinct ignorance number three. I then mooched over to the paydesk and enquired as to how much this shitfest was going to set me back. Eight Pounds.

Heavens to Murgatroid! Looking back now I'm surprised I didn't start bleeding out of my eyes.

"Fly, you fool."

Once again, I silenced that massive part of me that does nothing but listen to Technical Progressive Death Metal and payed up. Heavily, clumsily and in a daze I descended the stairs. My destination? The Disco Room.

Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough?

The Disco Room is a dense, dark and sticky place. You are bombarded with cube lighting, heavy patterns and kitschy 70's Americana. The kind of place that gestates a very wicked chlostrophobia in my man ovaries. I stare a yard or two in front of my feet, occasionally glancing up to check my meandering path through the grim and the greasy. My hands are clenched into fists. Not in a Safeways Goth "I'll-rip-out-my-grimoire-and-curse-you-if-you-step-on-my-New-Rocks-again" kinda way; I do it so that my meat hooks hopefully won't be mistaken for caressing the derriere of some cackling dolly bird.

The bar is small, but adequately sized for the room. I easily mooch my way to the front as a gang of boys leave the bar, literally carrying armfuls of phosphorescent sugar water. I am positioned in the centre of the bar - a prime location for the aquisition of... well... phosphorescent sugar water I guess. I stare at myself in digust in the mirror behind the bar. Those mirrors are in place to create the illusion of space. The space between my ears. I wait...

The Theoretical Underpinnings of the Aesthetics of Darren J. King: Chapter XIV - "Chavving It Up."

I'll pause here and try to the describe how my brain frequently operates on any night out. When I get to a certain stage of drunkeness, where I'm not mashed up - just a little Ginned up - I find that my thought processes still appear to be lightening fast; but I can just catch up with them. Let's say my thought processes from thinking "nothing" to thinking "something," go from A to C.

In this perfect state I can catch my thought at the illusive point B and if needs be, alter it. I'm like Neo or whatever.

This ability finds me intercepting two principle thoughts consistantly throughout the night. These thoughts always pertain in some way to: A) How much something is costing me, and B) How long it's taking me to get something / somewhere. My attention to the costliness of items is a day-to-day thing, but in this state my "How Fucking Much?!" gland is inflamed. Inflamed by Gin. But what is genuinely horrible is my pinpoint analysis of time. If I'm queueing for a beer in this state I become frantic. This is due to one single fact that insists on floating through my head:

"The time you spend here; you'll never get it back. Ever."

I've been like it since I was a kid. It's hideous. Suddenly I feel that I should not be wasting my time with this shit and do something productive. However, being the human oxymoron that I am, this in itself conflicts with another of my childhood ethics:

If you spend even a millionth of a second in a queue, you may as well spend a million years in the queue.

Any epoch of your life - no matter how infinitesimal it may be - was wasted. In for a penny, in for a pound.

Oh, The Shame.

...and I wait. I wait for 20 minutes at that bar. Burly chaps (and let's face it, chapettes) writhe over and around me and promptly get served their drinks while I strain to make eye contact with the barmaids. Internally, Tech-Prog-Death-Metal man is turning up the volume. He's playing me some Mastodon. It's calling me home. One of my workmates slithers up beside me, enquiring as to how long it takes to get served in here (I was very, very aware of the time...) and literally turns her head and orders a drink. It's one of those fizzy blue tip-top waters they sell. Naturally, I ask how much one of those teeth-rotters would set me back. Three Pounds Ninety-Five Pence.

Suddenly, I was outside.

The Theoretical Underpinnings of the Aesthetics of Darren J. King: Chapter XIX - "Hometime and the Penances Therein."

When I reach a certain level of drunkeness, or if I am in an uncomfortable situation - my legs take me home. No questions. They move me along until they feel that I am in a position to fend for the whole package that is my body, alone. If / when this happens I do not tell my friends that it is happening. Ultimately, I like to do this with a great deal of stealth anyway. If you tell your friends that you are leaving a party they will attempt to convince you otherwise. Unacceptable. When I have regained control I usually send texts out to ensure that my friends know where I am and that I'm en route home. This disappearing act happens quite rarely. But when it does; I'm like Solid fucking Snake.

In this case, my mates where right behind me. I turned tail without a word and pressed through them. Traa' guys.

At this point I'm faced with prospect of getting home. An expensive endeavour. Another aspect of my psyche that fucks with me at this point is that I feel the need to punish myself for what I've done. It starts with my brain bestowing feelings of complete and utter shame upon itself for being so foolish. Principally, being so foolish with money. However, I need to get even more money out to pay for a taxi home. On average this costs around £25. This in turn makes me furious with myself for putting myself in such a shitty position - the rage is penance for my act of stupidity. Upon hopping into a taxi, I instructed the driver to drop me off in Neath; a 30 minute walk from where I live in Cimla. As further penance for my stupidity I make myself walk home in the freezing cold.

A blinding rage and sensory heat depravation seem to be a fitting tribute to 30 minutes on the tiles in Swansea. Within that 30 minute window I waxed an approximiate £40. That's more than my phone bill. That's a PS3 game. That's half a stompbox. That's a shame. A crying shame.

Omissions and Retractions [Spewing]

Within a mere 24 hours I have already been alerted to two pivotal bands that I crudely ignored within yesterdays top 10 albums list. Those bands / albums are:

• Queens Of The Stone Age - Songs For The Deaf
• Incubus - Morning View / A Crow Left Of The Murder

Goddamnit all. The QOTSA album would have easily made it into the honourable mentions but the "A Crow Left Of The Murder" record would have undoubtedly made into the top fucking ten. Shithouse. As to what record I would have bailed out the list to make room for it... I have no idea. These glaring errors being brought to my attention it has only served to rattle my cage and wonder what other records I have ignored. If you think there's a cracker I've missed; Get in touch.

Listen In

Here is a linky to a Spotify playlist I've created of my top 10 albums in order.

Body And Tail: Darren Kings' Top 10 Albums Of The Decade.

Unfortunately, a few of the albums aren't on Spotify, so there are some gaps. There isn't any Clutch on the playlist, but I did manage to find a few Reuben BBC Session tracks off the "In Nothing We Trust" record. I also added a Reuben cover of the Nine Inch Nails track "The Hand That Feeds," which oddly enough is off the number 8 album "[With_Teeth]" There's also a distinct lack of Mastodon records from their time on Relapse Records so "Leviathan" isn't on there either. However I did manage to score a pretty epic live B-Side of "Iron Tusk" so I've hoofed that on the end of the playlist.

Consume.

Body And Tail: The Best Albums of the Decade.

Ouch. This blog is the big boy. TEH BIG BWOI. Strangely, it only occurred to me to write this list around 6 weeks back and once the gurth of the task ahead dawned on me I have been epically procrastinating in an attempt to forget all about it. Alas. Eventually 50 or so records dragged their way out of the depths of my mind to try and fight their way to the top. These ones made it.

Open Your Textbooks To Page Eleven...

To get an idea of the scale of my musical development it is essential you know that I started playing guitar at age 11. Which was in 1998. The two records that kicked it all off were "Performance and Cocktails" by Stereophonics and "Americana" by The Offspring. All of my musical development came from being an axeman. The reason this list was so hard was that I pretty much spent all my time up until 2003-2004 trying to catch up with everything that had gone before (something I have still not accomplished and probably will not...)

Format

I'm going to have a mahoosiv countdown of the albums with a little bit of blurb about every album, how I stumbled upon it and why I dig it so much. Maybe pictures too. Afterwards, I feel morally obliged to add a section of epic records that just fell short. Guttog.

Let's Do This Thing...

[FLAMESHIELD ON] In no way is this list objective. It is my own personal top 10 albums of the decade. If I was being objective I would have had to have put the fucking Libertines in it or some shit. Fuck that. If you have something to say, feel free to say it. But know this; I don't care what you think. You got problems wif ma list? Write your own fucking list. Jerk. [FLAMESHIELD OFF]

DK's Top Ten Albums of the Decade : 2000 - 2009

10. NOFX - Pump Up The Valium

(June 2000)

"This is not a test of the emergency broadcast system. This is the real thing!"

Although my memory is hazy, this punk gem must have fallen into my lap via one of my buddys from school. A certain Mr. Andrew Harris. He was so punk he once got thrown out of the library for humming the 'Men Behaving Badly' theme at an increasingly loud volume. He used to wear Roskys on Geography trips to the Gower. Punk as fuck. A great many of my favourite punk records / bands were filtered through this mans discman before they were hoofed over to me.

To the ears of a 13 year old, this record is a stunner. Even to my 22 year old ears it's still insanely good. It managed to marry the fart-humour of the pop-punk stuff that was waltzing around at the time with legitimate political messages (and graphic lesbian imagery naturally.) Also NOFX were and still are impressive musicians. For me, discovering a punk band that had guitar solos instead of the 'one-finger-one-string' jobbies was a revelation.

While this album has never reached the cult status that other NOFX records have achieved it's still rediculously good. The production values still stand up and even 10 years on, it still smashes its competition.

Keywords:
Goofy,
Energetic,
Funny.

Stand-Out Tracks:
What's The Matter With Parents Today?
Dinosaurs Will Die
Louise

9. Every Time I Die - The Big Dirty

(September 2007)

"Bite your tongue! Who taught you those words?"

Every Time I Die (from here on in: ETID) are a band that my friends and I discovered out the blue. This record came out in September 2007 and earlier that year one of our favourite bands name-dropped ETID in one of their songs. I won't reveal who; because that album happens to be number four... As a result we worked backwards, and using the logic...

We like X.

X likes Y.

Therefore:

We like Y.

...we discovered 'The Big Dirty.' [Note: This system has rarely failed me. It works with bands, authors and directors.] There was a two-month deficit between this system being implimented The Big Dirty coming out, but the previous two ETID records seemed to tickle my fancy a tad. Granted that punky metalcore shizz wasn't (isn't) my bag, but it had potential. When this album came out the band were streaming it all on their Myspace. I spun the album and instantly balked at its aggression, its pace and its mighty riffery.

With this record the band seemed to drop the gimmicky tech ideas that many bands within this genre use and opted to just have nice, crushing riffage. It's been a long time since I have been so impressed with a vocalist as I was with Keith Buckley. His lyrics are also quite wordy which adds a certain credibility to the album and to the band in general.

I hammered this album into oblivion and it still hasn't got old for me. Plus, once a few years have passed I am going to fully pinch the breakdown from the end of "Cities and Years" for one of my tunes. Shhhhh...

Keywords:
Brutal,
Aggressive,
Mosh.

Stand-Out Tracks:
Cities and Years
INRIhab
Pigs Is Pigs

8. Nine Inch Nails - [With_Teeth]

(April 2005)

"I got my arms that flip, flop, flip, flop, flip!"

A blog entry that I have on the horizon is a "Bands I Used To Hate But Now Love" piece. Nine Inch Nails (from now on; NIN) fall into this catagory. This album also wins the award for strangest discovery in this list. I was in a mates car and we were listening to some general tunes. The first track was a somewhat spacey euphoric number. Something that could easily have been assembled in a bedroom and found on some dance compilation. The second track however was pure rage. Frighteningly so. You know when you find a mate is listening to something very unusual and it makes you wonder "how the fuck did they find this before me?" I enquired as to who was creating this glorious racket and he replied, "Nine Inch Nails ini'." Suddenly I'm hoofed onto my back foot thinking: "Fuck. I fucking hate Nine Inch Nails." But I couldn't help but be absorbed by this album.

The album is bit of a rollercoaster of genres that takes you every which way. I learned to embrace this quality from Trent Reznor and found the album very engaging as a result. It's one of the only albums in this list that isn't even moderately guitar-driven, which goes some way to prove I'm not just some drooling Guthrie Govan mouthbreathing fanboy. Ish. The album has a general malaise that makes it's harsher moments all the more... well, harsh. The live drums on the album were also provided by a Mr. Dave Grohl, so if that prospect hasn't made you cower under your mothers apron, nothing will.

Despite it's rocky genre-spanning peaks and troughs this record is relentlessly brilliant. An absolute essential if you want your mind expanded a touch.

Keywords:
Vast,
Strange,
Harsh.

Stand-Out Tracks:
All The Love In The World
You Know What You Are?
Every Day Is Exactly The Same

7. Robot Hive / Exodus - Clutch

(June 2005)

"Come a litter closer honey, I won't bite ya..."

This is another record on this list that I can't for the life of me remember how it crossed my path. I do recall a mate doing a spot of light illegal downloading and stumbling on a few Clutch numbers, but as for this whole album? Unknown. Regardless, this album is a romper-stomper. Clutch have a very unimitable style that appears to be everything but. Many bands utilize a somewhat clichéd 'old-school, gruff, beer-swilling riffage' vibe; but not a one amongst them can hold a candle to Clutch. This album is grunting, sleazy and quite, quite fabulous.

The album lurches along like a crazy drunkard looking for fag-ends and errant £20 notes. No questions - just answers. Neil Fallons vocal performance is nothing short of remarkable whilst the rest of the band smash ten bells of shit out of the instruments around them. Whilst the tracks pose as mindless riffery many of these riffs find themselves in odd time signitures which display supreme musicianship on behalf of these hairy legends. This album also marked the addition of a keyboard player into the bands roster, so there's plenty of gratuitous usage of a fuzzy hammond organ in the mix.

This album will appeal to a very primal side of you that just wants to crack a beer and hold it aloft for the rest of time. Life is made better with the addition of Clutch. It's like audio Gin.

Keywords:

Gruff,

Funky,

Beards.

Stand-Out Tracks:

Burning Beard

Gullah

Circus Maximus

6. Age Of Winters - The Sword

(March 2006)

"A Sword of Fire and an Axe of Gold..."

I discovered this band while they were supporting Clutch in TJ's Newport. Not only were they one of the loudest bands I've ever heard, their particular brand of Sabbath-esque Swords n' Sorcery Metal was just too astonishing to ignore. The album just exudes a very convincing old-school vibe even down to the guitar tones and production values (in fact when I played this record to a mate of mine, XIA's very own Matt Peters he disdainfully enquired, "is this the
pre-production of the album?") This album evokes a similar reaction within my soul as it does when I listen to Clutch; with the whole beer chugging, hot motor-city mama thing going on. But this album puts more of a "Quaffing Ale and Buxom Wenches" spin on things.

The band have so much groove it really isn't funny. The songs are little more than 4-5 minute collages of filthy, filthy (FILTHY!) riffage with an occasional bluesy solo or jizzery Thin Lizzy guitar harmonies. Also they make stunning usage of the heavy metal staple: The "Chug." You know that Iron-Maideny "chug-chugga-chug-chugga" horse galloping effect? This band use it in a very functional way. It pisses on any other bands usage of this principle. I also like to think of this album as a concept album, even though the lyrics are somewhat vague at points. Subsequently over the 3 or so years I've championing this record I've sort of made up my own concept for it. I may give this it's own blog so I'll just blow past it:

Tyrannical King > Alchemist Wizard > Epic Teenage Witch > Shadow Wolves > Mountain Goddess > Awesome Orc Things.

Or something like that. Regardless, It's amazing. Granted all of this albums ideas are thoroughly tried and tested but as a result it fits very comfortably from the first listen. Don't fight the urge to adore this band; they'll mount your head on a bloody spear outside your house. What will the neighbours say?

Keywords:
Mighty,
Wonderful,
Chug.

Stand-Out Tracks:
Freya
The Horned Goddess
Iron Swan

5. Alaska - Between The Buried And Me
(September 2005)

"We are just mortal souls left to die..."

This album found it's way into my hands around the beginning of 2008. Between The Buried And Me (BTBAM...) were a band that I had heard of, but never heard and never really interested me by all accounts. The whole insane tech-death-jazz-easy-listening-core mash up was definately not my bag. But after the insistance of a friend (Rhys "Rex" King) he made me have a listen to a few tunes from the bands back catalogue. I found this insanity to be quite palettable considering, and I quickly and quietly pilfered their tunes off him for further research.

At the time I had a very low-tech MP3 player that was violently malfunctioning in as much as it would only playing albums in alphabetical order and sometimes entire track listings in alphabetical order [Note: As a result, many of my favourite albums are albums with an alphabetical track list. Try "As The Palaces Burn" by Lamb Of God alphabetically; it's much better.] In this case it was playing albums in order, and while this album isn't their first album my MP3 opted to play it first; purely because it starts with an 'A.'

I like this album more than other BTBAM records merely because I heard it first. The album juggles all of the aforementioned genres with devastating ease. The whole bands musicianship is of the highest level to be found on this list. Crushing technical death metal meets and beheads ambient progressive ramblings. Beautifulness. The first listen of this album is a major culture shock if you're not into "this-sort-of-thing," and you'll definately get questioning looks from your mates if they get wind of you listening to it; "you actually like this stuff?"

This band destroys any band I've heard within this field and judging by their newest record (2009's 'The Great Misdirect') they will continue to do so. This band will take you low...

Keywords:
Beautiful,
Brusing,
Maths.

Stand-Out Tracks:
Roboturner
Selkies: The Endless Obssession
Medicine Wheel

4. In Nothing We Trust - Reuben
(June 2007)

"We're All Going Home In A Fucking Ambulance!"

Here we have it: the elusive number four I name-dropped earlier on. One of the tracks on this record gives a quick shout-out to ETID, which inspired my research... Cheers, Reuben. By the time this record came out I was a fully fledged Reuben fanboy despite the fact I got into them insanely late; circa 2006. I had heard little bits of stuff on MTV2 around 2000-2001 which I was moderately impressed with but then promptly forgot all about. It wasn't until 5-6 years later on that, once again, I was spinning around in a mates car (Rhodri "28 Inch" Evans) and we were just listening to arbitrary tunes. I found the album was "Racecar Is Racecar Backwards," Reuben's first album from June 2004. The track that caught my attention was "Our Song." A nasty little tune that's about 15 different kinds of harsh. It spun my around considering that they posed as an alt-rocky band on telly...

This album was one of the highlights of 2007 for me. By the time that this album came out, the band had been violently sodomised by a number of record labels so their gloves we're well and truly off. They had moved on from friendly bitter alt-metal stuff to a more prog tinged sound. The album was nicely polished without being given the full pro-tools treatment. The track lengths had started to creep up around the 7-8 minute mark and their virtuoso drummer Guy Davis seemed to be leading the band a lot more. Erratic noise based sections were now implimented as opposed to traditional middle 8 sections. However, the album still reeks of the bands trademark goofy cynicism.

A bit of a departure for the Surrey boys but a very intense and engaging listen.

Keywords:
Shouty,
British,
Inciteful.

Stand-Out Tracks:
We're All Going Home In An Ambulance
Suffocation Of The Soul
Blood, Bunny, Larkhall

3. Deloused In The Comatorium - The Mars Volta
(June 2003)

"Transient Jet Lag Ecto Mimed Bison."

This is yet another record that I discovered years late. It was until '05-'06 ish did I first try to get into the Volta. They important word there: Try. Generally if you have to try to get into a band they just aren't for you. Bit with the Volta I felt the need to push myself to understand it; as if something amazing was going on and I'd be missing something really special if I didn't get my head around it. A few of my friends bought the bands previous album (2005's bonkers prog mammoth "Frances The Mute") on the strength of the single "The Widow." Upon finding that the rest of the album was not as easily digested as the single, the album was promptly dismissed.

I had heard 'Frances,' shat myself in the process and immediate ran and hid from the Volta. But somehow they found me. I decided to give their first record a spin to see if I could make head or tail of the band first, then potentially head back to 'Frances' to see if it still frightened me (yes, it does.) I found "Deloused In The Comatorium" to be a very abrasive but encompassing listen that pulled me in as opposed to push me away. I became fascinated with the bands ethos, concepts, themes and delivery. This album has it all: swirling soundscapes, sing-a-long choruses, proto punk noise, latin vibes, jazz vibes and furious percussion; all woven into delicate avant garde storyline. Whereas BTBAM is musically insane, The Mars Volta are a more genuine kind of insane. Bat-Shit Mental just doesn't cover it.

Everyone needs a bit of Volta in their life. Mine has been infinately enrichened by it.

Keywords:
Expansive,
Intelligent,
Straight-Jackets.

Stand-Out Tracks:
Roulette Dares (The Haunt Of)
Take The Veil Cerpin Taxt
Cicatriz ESP

2. Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not - Arctic Monkeys
(January 2006)

"How Come It's Already Two-Pound Fifty? We've Only Gone About A Yard..."

The hardest choice I had to make within this list was whether or not to put this bad boy at number one or not. Cereal. It's that good. This record came out in January 2006 and my life was at a weird crossroads. I had major New Years blues due to the fact that 2005 was without question the best year of my life, and it had just ended. In '05 I turned 18 and saw Black Sabbath in the same summer. Unbelievable. However 2006 was looking up as I had just entered my first major relationship with an actual female and the September before I had started my Music degree; the real upside there being that I promptly bought a shiny Marshall half stack with my student loan. This hype for this album blocked out the sun and when it came out it knocked me right on my arse.

The day it came out I must have spun it 5-6 time in a row - completely shellshocked. This album was punchy, concise and strangely... for me... Indie. I had abandoned Indie very quickly after picking up a guitar due to the fact I wanted to play well. This album has a number of the traits that I look for in Metal etc. as it has solos, a great drummer and storyline. This album is without a shadow of doubt the best concept album I have ever heard. Read that sentence again. I'm serious.

The question on your lips now is; "Why?" It's because I've lived this album. The album deals with a storyline of a guy popping off to town with his mates and attempting to get into nightclubs. Having a little dance trying to pull girls. Getting cockblocked by roiders. Queuing with spackers for a taxi. Waking up and regretting the whole thing. The whole album is frank and honest. Alex Turners inciteful lyricism and witty observations are a joy. Plus the songwriting values on this album are just perfect. And their drummer is really creative. And they pull off that punky-pop thing really well. And I'm babbling.

It's one of the only albums I've ever heard that makes me think: "Damn. I wish I'd written this." Flawless.

Keywords:
Funny,
Catchy,
The Parade in Neath on a weekend.

Stand-Out Tracks:
Riot Van
Dancing Shoes
Perhaps Vampires Is A Bit Strong But...

1. Leviathan - Mastodon
(August 2004)

"Vast The Head, Body And Tail..."

Anybody who knows me moderately well must have been thinking; "Alright then King, when's 'Don gonna be in here?" Here it is m'lovelies, my favourite album of the last ten years. It is simply particle. It has everything that makes me puke / cry / defaecate / cower in one concise package. And that's just the artwork.

The album entered my circle of friends when a track off the record (Iron Tusk?) was on a Metal Hammer teaser CD in December 2004. The album won about a bajillion 'Album of the Year' awards in magazines on both sides of the Atlantic and yet it wasn't a 'hype machine' buzz. It was a legitimate fan based frenzy. Upon hearing the track 'Iron Tusk' I was very indifferent. It wasn't the sort of thing I was into at the time. I felt more of an affinity with Lamb Of God at the time but it wasn't until June 2005 did I rethink this particular stance.

Remember I said that 2005 was the best year of my life? It's principally due the fact I went to Download that year. I saw scores of epic bands and was generally wasted for 4-5 days. I was dragged to see 'Don by one of the boys on the Saturday afternoon and I missed their opening number (Iron Tusk as it happens) because I was having a piss / eating chips. I ambled into the tent to prepare for a 40 minute drudge through a metal band I didn't know. The horror. Within that 40 minutes Mastodon chewed me up and spat me out. I remember actively keeping a tenner back in my tent so I could immediately nip out to by this album as soon as I got home. Which I did.

Holy Mary Mother Of God.

Riffage. Jizzery harmonies. Gruff-ass vocals. Shredding Drummer. Progressive as ten bears. No, twenty bears. It was a turning point in my life. As a guitarist. As a musician. As a metalhead. As a human being.

Add all those things together and you have one bad-assed record. But, it's also a concept album. All of the pieces of my perfect metal Fibonacci Sequence rolled together into one disc. The concept is that of Herman Melville's sea-faring classic "Moby Dick." So they're singing about sea monsters and stuff. Epic. This album is literally a brute from top-to-bottom, front-to-back, inside-and-outside, upside-down and downside-up. It has to be. It's the breakthrough record by the planets most intelligent metal band.

Every once in a while I dig it out and give it a listen. But I always make sure I nip to the shop to get some Kleenex first. Outstanding.

Keywords:
Gruff,
Low,
Whalecore.

Stand-Out Tracks:
Fucking all of the them, idiot.

Honourable Mentions

Here is a list of the albums that a really, really loved other this last decade that either just fell short of being in this list or I've only discovered quite recently and so I haven't digested enough for them to warrant being included. Go!

A given few albums that aren't in this section are the back catalogues of the bands that made the list. Every one of those bands have a devastating backlogue of tunes for you to find.

• The Red Album - Baroness
• Old Crows, Young Cardinals - Alexisonfire
• Orchestera Of Wolves - Gallows
• decemberunderground - AFI
• In Rainbows - Radiohead
• To The 5 Boroughs - Beastie Boys
• For Emma, Forever Ago - Bon Iver
• Relationship Of Command - At The Drive-In
• Wavering Radiant - Isis
• Curses & Travels With Myself And Another - Future Of The Left
• Kezia & Fortress - Protest The Hero
• Good News For People That Like Bad News - Modest Mouse
• Mirrored - Battles
• Broken Boy Soldiers - The Raconteurs
• Black Gives Way To Blue - Alice In Chains
• The Hazards Of Love - The Decemberists
• Source Tags & Codes - ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead...
• A Sun That Never Sets - Neurosis
• Opeth - Everything really...
  

Phew.

Plug [Shameless]

Judging by the posts added to my Facebook profile after yesterdays post it turns out there are in fact females on the internet. Who knew? Regardless, welcome to the internet ladies. Al Gore invented it in the mid to late 80's. There are boobs on here somewhere.

On the side bar thingymabob there's a "King On Cracked" linky thing. I have taken to writing articles for a website called http://www.cracked.com. It's a satirical comedy website that deals with widespread topics ranging from Steven Seagal to Jean Claude Van-Damme. Gripping stuff. They've been trying to put together their own wikipedia effort which heavily relies on submissions from lurkers like myself. Here are my contributions:

The Best Rock Drummers
http://www.cracked.com/funny-1713-the-best-rock-drummers/

This was the first article I wrote for Cracked a few months back. I basically needed a vehicle to blast Neil Peart off the face of the Earth. It kinda worked, but not really.

The Most Overrated Rock Bands
http://www.cracked.com/funny-1862-the-most-overrated-rock-bands/

I feel like I was born to write this article. I should have done my motherfucking dissertation on it. Once again, expect Rush-bashing and a quintessential King view on The Smiths...

Be sure to have a butchers at the frontpage articles and videos too; most of them are awesome.

"Go Loud!" or The Origin of the Word Mouthbreather.

"Go Loud!"
Hi Chaps (I'm not being sexist; Everyone knows there are no girls on the internet) and welcome to my blog: Mouthbreather.

From this here blog you can come to expect entries about tunes, guitar crap, day-to-day detailings of my shitfest and discussions about the theoretical underpinnings of the aesthetics of Jeremy Bentham. Within these entries you can come to expect:

• Curse Words
• South Wales Slang
• Cimla Patriotism
• Guitar Jargon

'Cited? 'Course you are.

The Origin of the Word 'Mouthbreather."
The word "Mouthbreather" has been part of my vocabulary for many years and as a result, I convinced myself that I'd made it up. As it turns out after a quick shufty on http://www.urbandictionary.com/ (potentially the world's greatest website) informed me otherwise.

Mouthbreather :

1. literally, someone who lacks enough intelligence that they never learned to breathe through their nose.

2. a really dumb person.

"In his latest work, the director has forsaken the indie audience and made something for the mouthbreathers."

That post is from waaay back in 2003. Which quickly and quietly scuppered my theory.

Now it is common knowledge that I, in fact, am a graduate that works in a supermarket. Dispair. I have been employed by this very same shopiau since I was a mere undergrad and it drains my soul to be fair. However, as a result I have a wealth of stories about the hive mentality of discount shoppers. Kick ass.

Circa late 2007 - early 2008 I worked on the checkout department. The penultimate line of defence. The warm welcoming face of the conglomerate. Anyway, they had hoofed me onto this shithouse late night Friday shift: 18.00 - 22.15. As you can imagine the store was absolutely dead with the exception of pissheads and NPT Council yuppie-types buying £3 romcom DVD's, bottles of White Zinfandel and Durex Endurance condoms for the night ahead. But...

...they mostly come out at night. Mostly...

Working on a checkout you get regulars. I'm serious. "Regulars." They seem to have sniffed out that your shift patterns must match up with their 'shopping day' and they make a bee-line for you. I had a Friday night regular. Female, late middle age, not a looker, potentially divorced, definately single. A real Babysham and Weight Watchers ready-meal kinda 'gal. And she used to breath through her mouth. Just her mouth. A Mouthbreather. She'd hover over to my till, panting and gasping, for no other reason than she had not mastered the usage of her nose. Have you ever encountered a gin-u-wine Mouthbreather? It's exactly the same as when somebody has some toothpaste / food on their face: You subtley (desparately?) ape their movements whilst rubbing the area of YOUR face where the offensive crumbs are on THEIR face, in an attempt to make them notice.

With a mouthbreather you find yourself huffing and sighing and snorting in an attempt to educate them. But more often than not; they get you. Suddenly you are mouthbreathing along with them. And, just like putting on a comedy lisp - It's fucking hard to stop. Perhaps if a person spends too much time in the company of a veteran Mouthbreather they find they can never stop... Oh, God...

Hey, World! These nostrils give life! Use them!