BLACK SABBATH - FORBIDDEN (1995)

You would think that after such a long absence, I might return bearing worthwhile gifts for my beloved readership, but alas, no such luck on this sunny Thursday afternoon--today I present you with naught but pure, undiluted garbage, in the form of the mighty Black Sabbath's final studio embarassment, Forbidden.
What constituted "Black Sabbath" in 1995 was a sad diminishment from even their lineup in 1992, much less the Dio years, much much less their heyday in the early-to-mid-seventies. What we have here is a broken, limping, generic-riff machine fronted by terminal no-name Tony "The Cat" Martin (above right), who even with the omnipresent Tony Iommi (no Geezer at this point--he was busy with GZR. LOL!) in tow couldn't muster an ounce of thunder on this resounding fart of an attempt at "hard rock". The handsome and talented Cozy Powell (who was later replaced by Blue Oyster Cult's Bobby Rondinelli, a dude that subsequently attempted to steal my girlfriend in the mid-00's--true story) rounded out the squadron on skins, but his servicable thumping is piss in an ocean to the utter, anachronistic misstep that is this album.

Did I mention that Ernie C from Body Count (left) was hired to produce this album? Or that esteemed thespian Ice T himself makes an appearance on the opening track? It's all true, which, in a way, is the only selling point to this album. It's pure novelty/curiosity, this ill-fated pairing of British rock legends and talentless urban street toughs, and really the only reason I brought it up today is that I find Tony Iommi's idea of what was "hip" and "edgy" in 1995 just about the most hilarious thing imaginable. His "go-to" was Body Count. Think about that shit.
Anyways, sorry to drop this turd in your proverbial punch bowl today, but hey, you can't win 'em all. Keep your head up, and just remember: RUSTY ANGELS, THEY CAN'T FLY.
Apologies.

Don't download HERE
Don't purchase HERE



Enjoy a low-budget documentary about the Tony Martin Era of Sabbath:

Brave New World and a Half

Although its roots remained firmly planted in the buddy-comedy genre of previous decades, the offshoot emergence of the buddy-cop subgenre in the mid 1960’s began posing a challenge to post-war American society. Despite some tentative steps that decade, it wasn’t until the 1970’s that the buddy cop movie first began testing the limits of traditional social norms. It was in 1976, when the unthinkable happened; a woman became the buddy to the cop. While the foundations of the status quo were surely shaken to their roots by this and other ruptures, it wasn’t until almost a decade later that the genre really began to come into its own.

The 80’s proved to be the heyday of the buddy-cope genre, a time when the form truly crossed a threshold and, dare I say it, forever changed the face of American cinema. This is thanks to the release of Beverly Hills Cop in 1984, a film which pushed the envelope for African American characters in American cinema. That year, the floodgates weren’t just opened, they were swept from their very hinges. Buddy-Cop films became the leading edge of a social revolution, recasting conventional stereotypes with greater subtlety and nuance and daring us as individual citizens and as a nation to question long held assumptions about workplace integration and traditional ways of combining comedy and action. By the end of the ‘80’s, new and more daring buddy-cop entries arrived monthly, addressing complex social issues each time. Women buddy-cops reappeared, Soviet/American buddy cops, Japanese/American buddy cops, dog/human buddy cops (it’s own sub-sub-genre!) human/alien buddy cops, and even federal/municipal buddy cops. The 80’s was a cultural and political minefield, but Buddy Cops were ready for the challenge.

As the decade came to a close however, it seemed that the Buddy-Cop had reached its apex. It was a heady and inspiring time in America, daily forging a new nation of comedic multicultural camaraderie on the screen. Yet, at the same time the very maturity of this groundbreaking genre prevented it from fully remaking society in its own revolutionary image. The Buddy-Cop could apparently go no further. They may have been a symbol of all that was right with America, but the genre’s aesthetic complexity remained out of reach of the very beneficiaries of the new America that the buddy-cop was carving; children under ten.

In the early years of the 1990’s the genre was foundering, seemingly unable to carry through its promise of a greater society. In the bowels of Hollywood however, a chance encounter between two screen-powerhouses was brewing the formula of a new Buddy Cop that would very nearly achieve the status of its progenitors. With almost half a century of collective experience in the television industry, Henry Winkler and Burt Reynolds had a bone-deep understanding of the American intellect. But how do you translate all the complex socio-cultural commentary of Buddy Cops into an ageless cypher?

The answer turned out to be deceptively simple. By taking the touchstone of modern buddy cop cinema, Axel Foley, and effectively shrinking him into an 8 year old child, the genre became palatable to even the most sensitive of American tastes. While Foley had been a comedic loose-cannon, albeit a “good guy”, he was still a ‘black-man’ and this represented a traditional threat to whiteness that his goofy smile could never quite temper. All the imminent sexuality, violence and anger that black men represent in the white American mythos vanished and was replaced by a cute, well scrubbed and innocuous child that needed to be protected from his own naivete. With Burt Reynolds as the cigar-smoking excessive-force-using bitter old man rougue-Cop to this new incarnation of the Buddy, it was a miraculous reconception of paternalism that transcended metaphor entirely.

Cop and a Half is streaming right now on NutFlex, so go and see the the film that made the 90's the 'cool' decade.

Further Down the Rabbit Hole of SHIT: Counting Crows Fan Art

So hey. The death of music blogs is upon us. It's inevitable that Illogical Contraption will get shut down eventually by the evil record companies. In light of these recent Nazi-esque crackdowns we decided to become a full time fan art blog. Enjoy!

Nailbomb - Point Blank (1994)

This album should need no introduction whatsoever.

In fact, I don't have anything relevant to say at the moment anyway.

All I know is that the picture above is a good representation of how I feel right now (and probably look). My brain is fried due to my academic ventures (its finals week) and I have been under the gun so-to-speak the last three to four weeks.
In a nutshell, this album fits my overall mood at present.

Plus, I haven't contributed a post here on IllCon for at least a couple weeks so I kind of owe it to y'all I suppose.

So without further ado, I think I'm gonna go get hammed on Oly and listen to this noise on repeat for the next few hours while trying to repress the memories of the past weeks' events...
Sounds fun huh? Why don't you join me? Crap! For Fuck's Sake, I'm out of Oly.
Nevermind.

Must. Numb. Mind. Now.

Be Proud To Commit Commercial Suicide here
not here

(unlike these guys)

Metallum / Last.FM

Public Enemy - Muse Sick-n-Hour Mess Age (1994)

Muse Sick-n-Hour Mess Age was released in 1994. This was a post "The Chronic" world and rap glorifying drug use and violence was already the status quo for a couple years. PE was considered "old" and "corny" by most fans of the genre and the bad reviews started flowing in before the album even came out. The decline of PE in the eyes of the record buying public happened so fast. The switch from party rap and political hip hop dominating the charts to the overwhelming rise and popularity of so called "gangsta rap" happened in the blink of an eye. It's almost as if the prison industrial complex and high level music executives had a secret meeting to  calculate the gangsta rap trend, fill up prisons and make a quick buck!  That's crazy though. That would never happen in our pure white America!

Here's the facts ("facts" being used loosely):

• People slept on this album when it came out which caused it to not have much of a legacy.
• People are fucking stupid and this album is THE BEST, ANGRIEST, most listenable Public Enemy album. (Challop)
• It's heavy as fuck.
• Chuck D's "message" is still as relevant today as it was in 1994 if not more so. His delivery is straight up fierce on this album. 
• This is Flavor Flav's best work! (Challop)
• This is the most GROWN up PE record, as they grew out of their sexism and gay-baiting lyrics of the previous releases. They learned from their mistakes and made better music.

Seriously, and I know I will get shit for this, I enjoy later-period PE more than the early shit. The Bomb Squad's "throw everything at the wall" style of production just has not aged well. See also Ice Cube's AmeriKKKa's Most Wanted. 

Bottom line: don't be like the great unwashed masses and sleep on this album. The songs are awesome, the music is powerful, heavy, funky and FUNNY. It's their masterpiece as far as I'm concerned. PE still had it in '94 no matter what the music press wants you to believe. Also check out that beautiful cover!

Download it!

Buy it!

The 6 Shittiest Little Brother Bands Of All Time

Being the little brother of an established rock star is a mixed blessing. Sure you can get more hype for your crap band but you will forever be in the shadow of the dickhead that kicked your ass when you were little. Here at Ill Con Labs we have been doing extensive research on the phenomena of little brother bands and we have come to this conclusion: THEY ARE ALL SHITTY.

Deep inside Ill Con LABS

Through many years of studying we can now bring you the definitive list of THE TOP SIX SHITTY LITTLE BROTHER BANDS EVER (after the jump)!

6 - .38 Special

Legendary Lynard Skynard front man Ronnie Van Zant will go down in history as one of the most badass singer/lyricists of all time. Too bad his shitty little brother Donnie won't. Known for their famous earworm "Hold On Loosely," which is obviously about Van Zant's masturbation style, .38 Special will forever be known as one of the most frequent bands on the county fair circuit. Amazingly .38 Special have recorded a whopping TWELVE albums including a disastrous Christmas album. Catch them live since they are perpetually on tour playing venues full of people waiting for that "one song."

5 - Malo

This is Carlos Santana's little bro Jorge's band. Known for their hit "Suavecito" which should be familiar to any red blooded Chicano American. I have to admit that I have mad love for that song as a burrito eater of Mexican decent, but the rest of their 8 album output? SHIT SHIT SHIT. Admittedly Carlos has become a total flaming bag of musical poop himself over the last decade. However those first 5 Santana albums (Self Titled - Welcome) are mighty, brutal and heavy as fuck. That's right. I rep for early Santana!

PS: Malo is also perpetually on tour. I'm seeing a trend here.

4 - Powerman 5000

I don't even know where to start with this fuckface. Powerman 5000 is the brainchild of "Spider One," younger brother of one the worst rock vocalist of all time Rob Zombie. If you thought "Dragula" was bad then you have never heard "When Worlds Collide" the one Powerman 5000 song to hit the charts. He's actually a WORSE singer than his older bro which is saying something! These guys basically cornered the shitty soundtrack market, as their contributions to terrible soundtracks is mightily impressive. Here is just a partial list of the soundtracks they have appeared on in addition to their 9 craptastic studio albums:

Freddy vs. Jason, Bride Of Chucky, End Of Days, Zoolander, Universal Soldier: The Return, Little Nicky, Scream 3, Dracula 2000, Blade II, Return Of The Living Dead 5: Rave To The Grave, NASCAR Thunder 2004


And thats just the tip of the iceberg! SHEESH! The only movie in that list I'll stand behind is Zoolander, though I have not seen Return Of The Living Dead 5: Rave To The Grave which I must say intrigues me. I guess Blade II is OKAY.

3 - Adema

Fuck Bakersfield, CA for being a shitty town that gave us not one, but two of the shittiest bands of the last two decades. This band is fronted by Mark Chavez, who is the lil' half bro of the current King Of Dubstep, KORN's Johnathan Davis. Yes, this band got a record deal by riding KORN's coattails. How can they sleep at night? Can you imagine the groupies they get? Like Powerman 5000 they ended up on a bunch of b-movie soundtracks and still seem to be playing in some form or another. They are currently playing venues called things like "Bleachers Sports Bar" in Bristol, CT and have 4 amazingly awful albums under their belt  You remember their song. It's the worst. Fuck you, Adema! 

2 - Bloodcum

Ok this one gets a little confusing. The bass player in this 80s thrash outfit is the little brother of Slayer's Tom Araya. That is a fact. However the singer "Joey Hanneman" was NOT the brother of Slayer guitarist Jeff Hanneman and they just gave him that name as a joke since they kind of looked alike. I guess they reformed in 2005 and play shows on and off. These guys get a pass because they aren't that bad and LOL "BLOODCUM" is a funnie name, but let's face it, compared to Slayer they completely suck.

1- Audiovent

Fucking hands down, without a doubt, no two ways about it, the WORST little bro band in the world ever is the steaming pile of dreck known as Audiovent. Audiovent is very special as 3 out of the 4 members are little brothers of the terrible people known as alternative rockers Incubus. THREE OUT OF FOUR MEMBERS. FUCKKKK ME! According to wiki:


Three out of four of the original members of Audiovent are related to members of the band Incubus. Jason Boyd is the brother of vocalist Brandon Boyd. Benjamin Einziger is brother of guitarist Mike Einziger, and Paul Fried is their stepbrother.


Everything about this band is utterly embarrassing for everyone involed. Their lyrics were juvenile at best. Riffs? Who needs riffs? The production sounds like my butt. Look at that motherfucker's half shirt. Makes me upset.


They achieved minor success in 2002 touring with other amazingly disgusting bands like Saliva (RIP) and Theory of a Deadman (lol).Also they are from Calabasas, CA which is the same suburban cesspool of rich white shitheads as Linkin Park and the Kardashians (they are Armenian but you get my drift). Thank god they broke up in 2004. Something we can all be happy about. 

Honorable mention: Roger Clinton

Little bro to our very own rockstar POTUS, Roger Clinton is famous for doing coke while Bill was Governor (which Bill later pardoned him from while in office!) and releasing a terrible album of whiteboy blues while his older brother was the president. Roger is also an actor appearing in such films as Fred Claus and Pumpkinhead II!

A true American hero! Roger Clinton we salute you!!!!!

Recent shot of the Clinton Bros. I would totally smoke a blunt with these dudes.

Check out this hot JAMMMMM! WALKIN' THE DOGGG!! OWWWWWWWWW!

THE WEEK OF HONG 2: BLOODSPORT 3

Goddamn it, Seth. Why do you put me through this shit? I've been nothing but a friend to you, and how do you repay me? I'll tell you how: By making me sit through not one, but two goddamn Bloodsport sequels, and afterwards, I don't even get the small fucking dignity of forgetting about them altogether--OH NO, I have to actually write about the fucking things, in a way that's supposed to be "engaging" and "interesting". Well fuck you, Seth. Fuck you and the scraggly-ass VHS tape you rode in on.

Now where were we?
Ah yes, Bloodsport 3. The 1997 follow-up to the abysmal 1996 shitfest known as (surprise!) Bloodsport 2 (full-ish review HERE). I guess we might as well get this over with:



So this whole "Week of Hong" was supposed to be about the iconic actor James Hong, but to be honest, his character Sun gets killed off pretty early in this movie, being replaced as a "father-figure"/"master" by the twin team of Pat Morita (conspicuously absent for the majority of Part 2 in spite of his high billing) and a mysterious shaman called "The Judge". So, rather than dissecting Hong's performance in this particular film, I will instead use today's post as a vehicle to express my disgust at mid-90's-sequel-direct-to-video action fare, to further condemn Seth Goodkind and his frivolous journalistic requests, and to call attention to the fact that Bloodsport Fucking Four still lurks like a shadowy specter on the horizon, mocking me from the very pits of Daniel Bernhardt's dead, soulless eyes:

Click for full size and lol @ "The Most Successful Action Franchise Ever!"

This movie is ass. Surprisingly, it is slightly less ass than its predecessor, due mostly to the scene where a bad motherfucker named Beast kicks the shit out of the aforementioned Daniel Bernhardt and also the presence of comedy-dwarf John Rhys-Davies as the main antagonist. But yeah, it's pretty unbearable.
Bloodsport 3 suffers from a bit of an identity crisis: yes, they went and hired that same vaguely-European splits-enthusiast guy to pretend that he's JCVD again, and yes, the plot revolves around another "underground fighting tournament" (he has to sneak in to this one! How chilling!). But Bloodsport 3 ups the yawn factor by trying to incorporate some sort of 007 angle (Bernhadt's "Alex Cardo"--read as "Even Lower Budget Frank Dux"--has to get all dolled up in a white tux and flirt with some chick in a casino), a premise with is both laughable and a little sad. There is no intrigue, no sexual tension. Hell, there isn't even any Don Gibb.

I don't know. I don't even have enough words in my mental arsenal to fully disassemble the Bloodsport sequels and Mr. Seth J.G. Goodkind to the subterranean levels they deserve. But together, they sent me to the very deepest and darkest corners of my own private Hell, and the only way I can even attempt revenge is to suggest that others endure the same pain as I. Please experience Bloodsport 3 in all its glory forthwith:




MORE HONG HERE:

Monday April 9th
Fist of B-List - The Dynamite Brothers
From the Depths of DVD Hell - Big Trouble In Little China

Tuesday April 10th
Direct to Video Connoisseur - South Beach Academy
Lost Video Archive - Teen Lust

Wednesday April 11th
She Blogged By Night - Seventh Sin
Lost Video Archive - Cyber Bandits

Thursday April 12th
Booksteve's Library - China Girl
Lost Video Archive - Gladiator Cop
From the Depths of DVD Hell - Balls of Fury

Friday April 13th
Direct to Video Connoisseur - Caged Fury
Lines That Make Things - The A Team (TV episode)

Saturday April 14th
Illogical Contraption - Bloodsport III
Explosive Action - Ninja III: The Domination
Lost Video Archive - Blade in Hong Kong
Thrilling Days of Yesteryear - Bat Masterson and Checkmate


I made this:

FUCK PIETY

These guys vs. Jesus, guess where my money is?

Straigh out of the frozen, hoary wastes of Singapore (home of the equally crushing Abhorer) comes IMPIETY, who you are no doubt fully acquainted and obsessed with by this late in the Satanic-blackthrash game. Formed all the way back in 1990 (Abhorer formed in '87, for the record), these non-pious Hessians have always worn their primitive influences (Sextrash, Sarcofago) proudly on their lengthily-spiked sleeves, as evidenced by their original band name (it was "Sexfago"--lols).
There is little to no bullshit present on these, their first two full-length releases--just an unrelenting onslaught of blasting drums, tremolo riffs, hoarse screeching about "Socerique Baphostorms", "Anal Madonnas", "Sodomythical Frostgoats", and "Hymnvocations of Nazarethian Nunwhores", and an abundance of seething, malevolent, diseased misanthropy. Oh, and some cool keyboard noises.
Happy Friday the 13th you fucking un-Baptized heathen scum.


ASATEERUL AWALEEN (1996)

Download HERE


SKULLFUCKING ARMAGEDDON (1999)

Download HERE
Purchase HERE


Metallum/Last.FM