With Christmas Eve finally upon us, our traditional trek to my grandma's house and the ensuing White Elephant gift exchange behind us, and preparation for my special BLT deviled eggs already underway, I would like to sit back and reflect for a moment on what the true meaning of this season is: failure.
Some people attribute the origins of Christmas to the Winter Solstice, or Jesus, or pagan rituals involving bones and fire or something, but we all know that the true meaning of the holiday months is to remember that what you are and what you could have/should have been are probably two completely different things. Take, for example, me. What could I have been? That's for the alternate universes to decide, obviously, but as a child I, like many of you, was told that I was so bright that I could do anything I set my mind to. Instead, I got a music degree (strike one), a ten dollar an hour job (strike two), and an obsession with heavy metal so rampant and pervasive in my life that I started this blog (strike three, back to the dugout).
Luckily for me, there are bands like Complete Failure around to help me remember that failure is subjective and in the eye of the beholder. I tend to gravitate towards bands like Complete Failure, generally because I could see myself wearing one of their shirts with a surprisingly appropriate descriptor of myself emblazoned on the front (this is also why I'm so into Cynic, Tragedy, Guttermouth, and an up-and-coming band called Fat Lazy Turd with Glasses). However, Complete Failure mislead the audience with their name; as a grind band, Complete Failure succeed.
The first time I heard of Complete Failure was fairly recently during a marathon Decibel-reading session in the bathroom. Their new album was out (which I thought was this one, but it's labeled everywhere as being from 2009), and had gotten a review with all the right buzzwords that turn my brain into a furious whirlwind of "must have MUST LISTEN NOW." Since I don't have that issue of Decibel anymore, and I never do any research or even bother to Google anything for any reason, that information is lost to the ages. But the thing I remember most vividly about the review was that the author described Complete Failure as perfect tourmates for Trap Them. This, of course, delivered unto me a purple, veiny D-Boner ready to sling D-jizz into the nearest D-receptacle.
Having listened to Heal No Evil, I have to agree with the Decibel writer's review; Complete Failure have a true talent for D-beats that change abruptly to washing-machine grind blasts and back, which is something that I tend to associate with Trap Them. Complete Failure also make much more use of the double bass pedal and approach songwriting in a way that is highly reminicent of old hardcore punk. In particular, the vocals are striking, tending toward a throaty, raspy punk rock shout than the standard hardcore vocal attack that could be attributed to that of Jake Bannon or that stupid wang from Earth Crisis. Complete Failure give the Christmas gift that keeps on giving: misanthropic, hateful grinding hardcore that serve to counteract all the garbage that gets radio play these days.
So this Christmas, give thanks for the important things in your life (read: crusty grinding hardcore), and forget all the rest. Your family? Your family is dumb. Your friends? If you're reading this, it's likely that you have no friends. Being alive? Don't even get me started. To observe the caustic maelstrom that makes me so incongruously happy, you should just follow your nose and prepare yourself.
Tomorrow, I'm going to spend the day drinking Budweiser in my mom's backyard with my ridiculous family and an army of idiot dogs, so to all of you out there, have a great Christmas. And to the other religions with holidays around this time, I'd just like to say that I don't understand you and am therefore afraid of you.
Also:
Thanks, Kwanza-Bot. I'll see you at the Hanukkah Zombie's luau.
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