For safety, wear a helmet
I’ve gone a bit nostalgic for the moment. Not much and it’s not that “oh, it might be crap but I loved it when I was a wee little kid so I must love it now” way. No, because this is good. really good.
Once upon a time, P3—we’re talking Swedish radio here for all you furriners—had a rather excellent show called Slammer, I know, it’s hard to believe that a radio show actually could be good and play stuff that made you want to go out and buy records but trust me. Once upon a time it was like this. I’m not throwing bullshit here. They played a lot of metal that just wasn’t popular. Of course then they killed it, transformed the corpse into a new show. Still a lot of rock, but it weren’t the same. Fucking bastards. It was for me the beginning of the end for the channel.
Now, where was I? Oh, Slammer! The host of the show liked to play Helmet quite a lot. I got hooked pretty bad even though it took me ages to actually buy one of their record. So now I’ve been sitting here for two days and have had Betty on repeat—it’s also loaded in the mp3-player so it’s always there. She spins pretty damn well if you ask me. It seems like Helmet was one of those bands that few listen to, but those who did started their own bands and was heavily influenced. Kind of like the Pixies. (The Pixies are way better than Helmet though. Sorry, but it’s a fact.)
Anyway. Each time Betty dances back to track one and Wilma’s Rainbow begins, I want to start a small mosh pit in the room, preferably in the junk corner but where doesn’t feel that important. Two songs later, Biscuits for Smut makes me want to dance around and invent a new kind of solo-shuffle. I’m not the moshing kind of guy at all and I don’t dance ever so what the fuck gives? I can’t explain it. Metal, blues, bluegrass and funk really do work together when fused together properly.
