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The Flood / GOJIRA: Gay-Friendly Metal for Indie Rock Fans
« on: June 17, 2016, 04:12:57 PM »
As an out-and-proud homosexual, I have always felt maligned by heteronormative society and the tyranny of the heterosexual who crusades against my God and secular humanist-given right to lick another man’s anus like ice-cream and engage in public sodomy.
I have been arrested on numerous occasions for waving around my phallus in the public sphere – my phallus is like a dagger to pierce the heart of oppression I, as a homophile, experience on a daily basis.
The first occasion was when I was 18 years old and just beginning to affirm my status and form my identity as an anal sex fanatic. I was living with my parents at the time in a Manhattan apartment. I come from a secular-Jewish household, both of my parents regularly donated to some gay rights or ethnic diversity charity or other, so I had no problem coming out as a faeces-eater to them. My father himself told me he ‘experimented’ in college, he told me he liked to shove an Israeli flag up his rectum (as an act of defiance against Zionazis and in support of the poor, oppressed Palestinian Arabs) whilst other men would masturbate over him.
So, anyway, I was a fresh-faced young gay – and the world just had to know about it! I was sitting in an ice-cream parlour, enjoying a delicious chocolate ice-cream, and was wearing a skin-tight white t-shirt with a marijuana leaf emblazed on the front and three-quarter length khaki shorts.
I have always found ice-cream to be an aphrodisiac, and there was a cute waiter who had served me – I swear he winked at me! So I was feeling rather horny, and began to develop a semi-erection – a bit like an old soft carrot. Intoxicated by homoerotic passion and the enthusiasm of youth, I began to stroke my penis through my shorts.
Another patron looked at me, saw what I was doing. But I didn’t care. I just smiled at him and his silly conservative sensibilities. “Hello! It’s the 20th century, just be more open-minded”, I thought to myself. At this point I stood up and jumped on the table – knocking over the ice-cream and ripped off my shirt to reveal my skinny, hairless chest.
I unzipped my fly and pulled out my modestly-sized package. Everyone around me was screaming and gasping in horror – parents covered their children’s eyes.
I spoke in a firm but delicate voice – “I am a homo! A gay! A sodomite! I like to forcibly insert my dong into another man’s asshole and slap his buttocks! And for this, I am not ashamed. You there, you cover your child’s eyes and ears so he cannot here my expression of sexuality? He too is a sexual being! He must be open-minded and tolerate me!”
I felt like a Queen among men. I was masturbating with one hand and with the other took off my pants, reached into my anus and defecated. I began flinging faeces at the customers; I ejaculated and flicked my chunky semen at them as well. I heard sirens in the distance, the police burst in and tried to grab me – “you closed-minded reactionaries!” I shouted in prideful defiance.
On that fateful day I became a martyr for homophiliac tolerance and open-mindedness. I was a righteous man – I entered every gay club with a new-found sense of justice. And as I tasted that anonymous sperm in the toilets, I knew this was my calling.
Now, I have always been a musical person – I love music that reaffirms my personality. I had a pretty good collection of hip-hop to show I’m totally cool with black people, and my Mogwai CDs told people I was an artsy intellectual. Yeah, post-rock, emo and Indie have always been my musical passion. It’s just so trendy and liberal.
One genre I always felt difficult and problematic was Heavy Metal. Heavy Metal concerts were a sea of white faces – where was the diversity?! It was racist music; those guys just stole from the blues and other black music, anyway. Ok, so the pentatonic scale is used in most cultures including Europe, Asia and the Middle East... and Gospel comes from the call-and-response service found in Highland churches in Scotland and other rural European folk traditions... and the bass drum came from the Turkish Janissaries and was used in European polka and waltzes before Jazz music. But Heavy Metal is implicitly white! And that’s racist. And racism is bad.
All the lyrics are about things like death – that doesn’t make me feel good about myself! I don’t want to think about cold and harsh realities of life, just pass me a bong instead. Oh, and is that Family Guy on TV?
And then there’s those Black Metal guys – it’s kind of cool that they hate Christians so much (the oppressors of homosexualism) but they’re so elitist! Music is music, man, why label everything? Like, how can you say Britney Spears is better than Beethoven? It’s just your opinion LOL. Dude, we’re all equal and everyone’s opinion is equally valid. (Conservatives are bad though).
One day GOJIRA came on my Last.fm playlist. I immediately thought ‘Heavy Metal’ – no thanks! But since I’m so open-minded, I decided to listen. Immediately something was different. It sounded so... Indie Rock!
It was artistic and the surface-level technical flourishes and window-dressings reminded me of modern, functional architecture. It was composed in the manner I was most familiar with: radio-friendly, safe and comforting rock music but played with a Heavy Metal aesthetic. I recognized those chords from bands like Fugazi and Jawbreaker, and the candy-like pop structure reminded me of REM.
GOJIRA was like Indie Rock but with a metal flavour. They stripped metal of its weird style of composition and made it something easily digestible to the type of person who flicks around his shiny new IPod and wants to impress his friends – and potential homosexual recruits.
They appropriate metal riffs, but they’re more like an add-on to the safe and comfortable pop-rock format. The music is rhythmic based, just like any other rock band so it’s nice and predictable and repetitive. You can easily sing along to the catchy chorus, too!
They made metal about personality and image, not some silly abstract concepts. They made metal accessible and inclusive – something that WOULDN’T offend your mother. They stripped metal of it masculinity and aggression, Bob Marley would be proud.
This is the kind of music that you can slip on in the background to show that you’re not out of touch and open-minded enough to like that scary metal music but not upset any minority group. You can show people you appreciate technicality – but don’t worry, underneath it’s just like Sunny Day Real Estate or Sonic Youth.
The music of GOJIRA speaks to me on a populist level, I just know these guys are open-minded tolerant individuals – and probably like to spice up songwriting sessions with blasts of semen to the face.
I have now attended several GOJIRA concerts where I have masturbated amongst the crowd – and far from being oppressed I am embraced. The mosh pit regularly becomes a gay scat orgy. Joe Duplantier himself strips on stage and blesses us by ejaculating and pissing into our faces. I was standing at the front of the crowd once and got a great taste of his ejaculate – it was like an Oreo McFlurry.
So, there you have it. GOJIRA made it ok for me, a homosexual, public masturbating scat addict, to be a metalhead. I now prance into gay clubs wearing a GOJIRA shirt and delight the other men by stripping to a 100% cotton GOJIRA thong and perform the best blow jobs in New York.
I have been arrested on numerous occasions for waving around my phallus in the public sphere – my phallus is like a dagger to pierce the heart of oppression I, as a homophile, experience on a daily basis.
The first occasion was when I was 18 years old and just beginning to affirm my status and form my identity as an anal sex fanatic. I was living with my parents at the time in a Manhattan apartment. I come from a secular-Jewish household, both of my parents regularly donated to some gay rights or ethnic diversity charity or other, so I had no problem coming out as a faeces-eater to them. My father himself told me he ‘experimented’ in college, he told me he liked to shove an Israeli flag up his rectum (as an act of defiance against Zionazis and in support of the poor, oppressed Palestinian Arabs) whilst other men would masturbate over him.
So, anyway, I was a fresh-faced young gay – and the world just had to know about it! I was sitting in an ice-cream parlour, enjoying a delicious chocolate ice-cream, and was wearing a skin-tight white t-shirt with a marijuana leaf emblazed on the front and three-quarter length khaki shorts.
I have always found ice-cream to be an aphrodisiac, and there was a cute waiter who had served me – I swear he winked at me! So I was feeling rather horny, and began to develop a semi-erection – a bit like an old soft carrot. Intoxicated by homoerotic passion and the enthusiasm of youth, I began to stroke my penis through my shorts.
Another patron looked at me, saw what I was doing. But I didn’t care. I just smiled at him and his silly conservative sensibilities. “Hello! It’s the 20th century, just be more open-minded”, I thought to myself. At this point I stood up and jumped on the table – knocking over the ice-cream and ripped off my shirt to reveal my skinny, hairless chest.
I unzipped my fly and pulled out my modestly-sized package. Everyone around me was screaming and gasping in horror – parents covered their children’s eyes.
I spoke in a firm but delicate voice – “I am a homo! A gay! A sodomite! I like to forcibly insert my dong into another man’s asshole and slap his buttocks! And for this, I am not ashamed. You there, you cover your child’s eyes and ears so he cannot here my expression of sexuality? He too is a sexual being! He must be open-minded and tolerate me!”
I felt like a Queen among men. I was masturbating with one hand and with the other took off my pants, reached into my anus and defecated. I began flinging faeces at the customers; I ejaculated and flicked my chunky semen at them as well. I heard sirens in the distance, the police burst in and tried to grab me – “you closed-minded reactionaries!” I shouted in prideful defiance.
On that fateful day I became a martyr for homophiliac tolerance and open-mindedness. I was a righteous man – I entered every gay club with a new-found sense of justice. And as I tasted that anonymous sperm in the toilets, I knew this was my calling.
Now, I have always been a musical person – I love music that reaffirms my personality. I had a pretty good collection of hip-hop to show I’m totally cool with black people, and my Mogwai CDs told people I was an artsy intellectual. Yeah, post-rock, emo and Indie have always been my musical passion. It’s just so trendy and liberal.
One genre I always felt difficult and problematic was Heavy Metal. Heavy Metal concerts were a sea of white faces – where was the diversity?! It was racist music; those guys just stole from the blues and other black music, anyway. Ok, so the pentatonic scale is used in most cultures including Europe, Asia and the Middle East... and Gospel comes from the call-and-response service found in Highland churches in Scotland and other rural European folk traditions... and the bass drum came from the Turkish Janissaries and was used in European polka and waltzes before Jazz music. But Heavy Metal is implicitly white! And that’s racist. And racism is bad.
All the lyrics are about things like death – that doesn’t make me feel good about myself! I don’t want to think about cold and harsh realities of life, just pass me a bong instead. Oh, and is that Family Guy on TV?
And then there’s those Black Metal guys – it’s kind of cool that they hate Christians so much (the oppressors of homosexualism) but they’re so elitist! Music is music, man, why label everything? Like, how can you say Britney Spears is better than Beethoven? It’s just your opinion LOL. Dude, we’re all equal and everyone’s opinion is equally valid. (Conservatives are bad though).
One day GOJIRA came on my Last.fm playlist. I immediately thought ‘Heavy Metal’ – no thanks! But since I’m so open-minded, I decided to listen. Immediately something was different. It sounded so... Indie Rock!
It was artistic and the surface-level technical flourishes and window-dressings reminded me of modern, functional architecture. It was composed in the manner I was most familiar with: radio-friendly, safe and comforting rock music but played with a Heavy Metal aesthetic. I recognized those chords from bands like Fugazi and Jawbreaker, and the candy-like pop structure reminded me of REM.
GOJIRA was like Indie Rock but with a metal flavour. They stripped metal of its weird style of composition and made it something easily digestible to the type of person who flicks around his shiny new IPod and wants to impress his friends – and potential homosexual recruits.
They appropriate metal riffs, but they’re more like an add-on to the safe and comfortable pop-rock format. The music is rhythmic based, just like any other rock band so it’s nice and predictable and repetitive. You can easily sing along to the catchy chorus, too!
They made metal about personality and image, not some silly abstract concepts. They made metal accessible and inclusive – something that WOULDN’T offend your mother. They stripped metal of it masculinity and aggression, Bob Marley would be proud.
This is the kind of music that you can slip on in the background to show that you’re not out of touch and open-minded enough to like that scary metal music but not upset any minority group. You can show people you appreciate technicality – but don’t worry, underneath it’s just like Sunny Day Real Estate or Sonic Youth.
The music of GOJIRA speaks to me on a populist level, I just know these guys are open-minded tolerant individuals – and probably like to spice up songwriting sessions with blasts of semen to the face.
I have now attended several GOJIRA concerts where I have masturbated amongst the crowd – and far from being oppressed I am embraced. The mosh pit regularly becomes a gay scat orgy. Joe Duplantier himself strips on stage and blesses us by ejaculating and pissing into our faces. I was standing at the front of the crowd once and got a great taste of his ejaculate – it was like an Oreo McFlurry.
So, there you have it. GOJIRA made it ok for me, a homosexual, public masturbating scat addict, to be a metalhead. I now prance into gay clubs wearing a GOJIRA shirt and delight the other men by stripping to a 100% cotton GOJIRA thong and perform the best blow jobs in New York.
