RANTS & RAMBLINGS

The news vans are already parking down by the square. Some network plastic-face with a microphone was trying to interview kids outside the shop today, asking them how it "feels" to live in the shadow of the Shape.

It's only been a year, and these corporate ghouls are trying to treat our local graveyard like an amusement park. They don't care about the families, they don't care about the survivors, and they certainly don't care about the truth. They just want a flashy headline for the October sweeps to sell truck advertisements.

If I catch any of these stringers or camera crews trying to set up tripods inside the Java Hole or bothering my staff, I'm locking the doors and turning the house speakers up to maximum feedback. This isn't a movie set. People died here. Go back to Chicago and report on the stock market.

Hallelujah. The guitar solos are back, Lars finally fixed his god-awful snare drum, and Metallica actually remembered that they are a thrash metal band. After the total trainwreck that was St. Anger, Death Magnetic feels like a massive sigh of relief.

Tracks like "That Was Just Your Life" and "All Nightmare Long" are heavy, complex, and fast as hell. Robert Trujillo's bass gives them a massive low-end punch they haven't had in a decade, and Kirk Hammett is absolutely shredding again. My only real gripe here is the "Loudness War" mixing. Rick Rubin produced this so hot that the audio literally clips and distorts on standard stereo speakers. It's a shame, because songs like "The Day That Never Comes" deserve better than being brick-walled into acoustic mud.

THE VERDICT: Despite the terrible digital mastering, the music itself is a triumphant return to form. Buy the vinyl version—it breathes a little better than the CD.

Democracy has spoken.

Apparently even the customers agree that the customers cannot be trusted with a jukebox.

This may be the most accurate survey result we've ever recorded.

We had a line of angry teenagers wrapped around the block on Tuesday morning waiting for the delivery truck to drop off the boxes for this one. Joey Jordison's drumming on "Psychosocial" and "Gematria" is absolutely inhuman—the guy sounds like a machine gun tearing through drywall, and the kids are eating it up.

It's a strange record for Slipknot, though. It's got their trademark ferocity, but Corey Taylor is doing a lot more melodic, radio-friendly singing on tracks like "Snuff." It's a clear bid for mainstream rock dominance, and judging by how fast we're restocking the shelves, it's working. It lacks some of the raw, dangerous, low-budget filth of their early independent days, but you can't deny the technical precision of the riffs.

THE VERDICT: Mainstream metal's new high-water mark for the year. It's loud, it's angry, and it's going to pay the store's rent for the next three months.

You know exactly what a Motörhead record sounds like before you even pull the plastic off the jacket. They've been playing the exact same brand of loud, fast, unapologetic rock 'n' roll since 1975, and Motörizer doesn't break the chain.

Lemmy's bass still sounds like a diesel engine idling in a metal shed, and tracks like "Rock Out" and "Runaround Man" have more speed, grit, and genuine attitude than any of these fake punk bands clogging up the radio waves this year. Phil Campbell lays down some blistering, bluesy solos that remind you why this band is the bridge between punk and heavy metal. It's short, it's angry, and it doesn't give a damn about modern production trends.

THE VERDICT: Pure, unfiltered whiskey-and-gasoline rock. Buy the CD, throw it in your truck, and blast it until you get a speeding ticket.

A couple of young girls came into the store asking Meat if we carried the new Jonas Brothers album. I've never seen him yell at a child before, let alone make them cry.

Mya and Laurie felt so bad that they actually went out after them to make things right. I don't know what they said, but the girls ended up smiling before they left. Laurie is good with kids like that. We need a softer touch sometimes, but I still agree with Meat 100%.

If BOC wasn't enough for you, UFO is playing the same venue tomorrow! Get your dose of classic rock while you can, because these acts wont be around forever.

We just found out that BOC is playing in Aurora tomorrow, and the whole thing is FREE! Meat wanted to close shop, but some of the bozos opted to run the shop so he could attend. They don't know what they're missing. If you want to your ears to melt, head on over to the Fox River on August 1st.

Alice Cooper is back to doing what he does best: theatrical, trashy shock-rock with a high body count. Along Came a Spider is a full-blown concept album about a serial killer who leaves his victims wrapped in silk. It's campy, it's dark, and it's a hell of a lot of fun.

Musically, tracks like "Vengeance Is Mine" and "I Know Where You Live" lean heavily into that classic, crunchy 70s hard rock groove, but with a modern, heavy edge. Alice's vocals are venomous and theatrical as ever. It actually feels like a lost soundtrack to a gritty retro horror flick, which means the local cinephiles around town are probably going to eat this up. My only complaint is that the production gets a little too clean in the ballad sections ("Killed By Love"), but when the guitars are allowed to bite, it works.

THE VERDICT: A solid addition to the Coop's legacy. It's an automatic Staff Pick on the front wall.

The streetlights outside the shop went dark again last night. It's the same routine every month—the bulbs flicker, the transformers give off this high-pitched metallic whine, and the whole block drops into pitch black for a few seconds before the grid stabilizes.

Usually, I just curse out the municipal utility department and keep cleaning the espresso machine. But last night I happened to look right at the digital clock on the wall when the lights snapped off.

11:17 PM.

Not 11:15. Not 11:30. Right on the dot.

If the city is running some kind of automated power-saving cycle or a local grid test to save a buck, they could at least be transparent about it. But why that exact minute? It’s like the whole town is running on a timer that nobody bothered to tell us about.