Don't Piss Off A Musician

Recently, I rediscovered one of my favorite bands Type O Negative. After a long estrangement from their wonderfully morose stylings, the gods at YouTube saw fit to reacquaint me with a group that so exemplified my childhood.

I must admit, it's been a pretty happy reunion. I had forgotten just how epic that band can be. Those guys sure know how to use the same damn chord progressions over and over again, and continually make it sound fantastic. And, the older fella in me found some new appreciation in lead singer Pete Steele, who barely managed to hit his musical stride in his early 30's. And here the guy is, approaching 50, and still working a great deal of magic. Who can't dig on that?

While getting reacquainted with the catalog, I happened to be listening to one of their newer songs entitled September Sun, when out of a fit of boredom, I decided to do a bit of research on the song via my friendly interweb. You see, being a new song and one I really hadn't listened to until recently, I didn't know the lyrics by heart. This is rare people, since I usually tend to listen to a song so many times, that if I wasn't allowed to hear it until several years later, I could probably remember every single word within the song. So, in an effort to "catch up" and to answer a few things about what the song is about (since it's a little vague,) I hit up Google.

One of the things that caught my eye was that there is a point in the song where my buddy Pete yells out the name of an ex-girlfriend. Even more interesting was that this was the same girlfriend he was complaining about when I was still in high school. And anyone who knows the work of Type O knows that nobody on this green earth knows how to poetically bitch about a woman whom has caused scorn quite like Pete Steele. So here it is, some eleven or twelve years later and the guy is still tearing into her, and doing it brilliantly.

As someone who's own body of work has spoken harshly about my ill encounters with women, I find this absolutely fascinating. Being tortured sells, and nothing tortures more than bad blood with the women-folk. Sorry gals, I love each and every one of you, but your gender does a hell of a lot of damage on our fragile male psyches (and yes, I know most of the time it's our fault.) And, we tend to immortalize it....and by proxy you, in one of our angst ridden tales.

So be warned people of the world, especially those of you who deal with musical types, that if you cross us in any way, we will retaliate in the most melodic ways possible. And 10-20 years later, you'll probably still be in the cross hairs when we need another single.

Hug a musician. Only you can prevent having your name shouted angrily in songs.