You
know what’s glamorous about “glam bands”? Not
much. Their music is incidental… secondary to the prime directive,
which is “Figure Out A Way To Wear Make-Up In Public!”
More often than not, the men in glam bands bear more of a resemblance
to Johnny Bench than Johnny Depp. “Glam” is just hair
metal without the chops, punk without the intensity and garage without
the fashion sense.
We
can thank the Internet once again for giving glam fans, or glans,
as they like to be called, a way to reach out to one another on
hot pink websites. Thank you, Internet! Thanks for the glam bands
and the furries and the Japanese scat and the extreme body modification
and the erotic Star Trek fan fiction in which Spock lovingly caresses
Captain Kirk’s nutsack. Thank you!
So,
speaking of visually abhorrent attention whores, here’s this
week’s Barrel band..
Band:
Pieces
Of Eden
Hometown: Corapolis, PA
Genre: "Glam Rock".
hurtchow
says
Dear
Pieces of Eden
<font
face="Not Times New Roman">
Look
into it.
mrb42
exclaims
For
starters.. this will be the only time these posers will ever be
overexposed.
From
their bio:
"...You
may even question your very existence..."
translation:
"you may want to kill yourself during our set."
Green657
opines
When
I take a look at the credentials for "Pieces of Eden",
I find a bunch of impressive items.
Web
Page:
MS Frontpage - standard template #4
Gig
Calendar:
1 gig - CANCELLED.
Link
to Halogen Records:
404 Not Found
Their
bio says
Says Jerry on the music writing, "I really made a conscious
effort to not over analyze the music while writing.." "..I
really wanted to keep things simple and let the songs create themselves."
From
the mp3's available on the website, Jerry should try analyzing the
music just a little bit. I did...Analysis = Sucks Monster Ass
Forgive
me if I'm wrong but, under the Patriot Act, isn't it now illegal
for songs to write themselves. If it isn't illegal, now that I've
heard "Pieces of Eden", it should be.
iangillis
proffers
The
Pieces Of Eden bio proves that honesty is indeed the best policy:
Exhibit
A:
Says Jerry on the music writing, "I really made a conscious
effort to not over analyze the music while writing.."
It
shows Jerry.
Exhibit
B:
...Jack's lyrics and brutal vocal delivery.
Jeez,
these guys are already doing our work for us.
Pieces
Of Eden are the carnies that work on the Roller Coaster Of Emotions!
Pieces Of Eden take you on an emotional roller coaster ride.
You might smile, you might dance or sing along. You may even question
your very existence.
The
only thing these guys make me question is the existence of a just
and loving God.
As
promotional geniuses, these guys have no equals. If you correctly
answer the five movie trivia questions on there website, you'll
get free admission to their show AND a drink on the band (let's
hope that the last reward is not to be taken literally). Coincidently,
if you can find and answer the bonus sixth question on the website,
you will get to accompany the band back to their basement apartment
to see the real "Pieces Of Eden", if you catch my drift.
Also,
is it just a coincidence that Corapolis, PA, sounds awfully close
to Crapopolis, PA?
midasdouche
replies
Pretty
close. It's a rapidly aging Pittsburgh suburb. It's one of those
places that no one really seems to go to or be from.
Borg9
proclaims
...
honest tales of isolation, personal anguish, and addiction in a
way that hasn't been done before.
Ladies
and gentleman, Jack Glaros... the Scott Weiland of compulsive overeating!
These
Hessians remind me of my hometown. Dudes are still rockin'. Still
listening to the great dead rockstars. Still smoking Newports and
using the word 'party' as a verb.
Bet
they still sneak out to the garage and burn one.
"We use to be hiding from our parents, now we're hiding from
our kids". Shameful.
Do you suppose they call each other dude? Or 'bro or dog when they
talk? If they limited themselves to jamming out the beer tent at
the Melon Festival, I'd...still make fun of them. Douches.
I feel bad for these sad sacks. But, not so bad that I can't goof
on their craptacularness. My guess is the Web site was created by
Jerry "freaky" Ray's woman - at Supersize productions.
The graphics, the pictures...My eyes. The damn things, they hurt.
Jerry
Ray shared a bill with Skid Row. In 1997? Not too kick ass, that...
Green
657 replies Photoshopically
BlueEyedDevil
utters
Fun yet honest, spinning tales of isolation, personal anguish,
and addictions in a way that hasn't been done before.
"Woo-hoo! Howyadoin' out there Scranton! We wanna hear ya make
some nooiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiise! YEAH! This next one's about how I
used to make my girlfriend turn tricks while I sucked off old men
to support our junk habits! It's called 'We Like To Party'! MAKE
SOME NOISE! 1-2-3-4!"
(crickets)
Yermom
yells
Also
on the demo disc, is the song Twilight.
This song runs slow yet powerful, rolling over
you like a land mover. Another perfect showcase for Jack's searing
vocals, this track takes you on a ride from soft, sensitive and
restrained, to angry, aggressive and chaotic.
Oddly enough, this is the same way I felt about navigating that
God damn website. First the slow yet (not so) powerful transition
between pages with the faggy fade, then the bouncing microphone
took me from angry to agressive.
TammyHagar
goes nuculer
After
viewing this website, I have come to the conclusion that Pieces
of Eden must exist in a state of altered reality. It is a reality
in which Fabio got fat and decided to form a band with a chubby
Paul Stanley, a flabby and ugly Scott Weiland, and a lesbian who
packed on the pounds in the hopes her breasts could pass for man-boobs
so that she could rock out like a real man. It is a reality in which
fans pronounce, via the internet, that the above are "not only
talented, but sexy too". It is a reality in which it is okay
to have 15-year-old girls design websites.
So
how did they get there? Well, you'd have to be pretty stupid to
sell your soul to Axl Rose and not even get an actual gig out of
it. (Just in case you were planning on going, their Jan 29th gig
is cancelled.) Now, I'm no sci-fi enthusiast or anything but I think
I have the answer.
See,
I'm guessing that Jack Glaros' off-pitch (er, sorry... emotional)
wailings combined with the sludge the rest of the band emits creates
a bizzarre rift in time and space for a 5-15 mile radius around
the studio/rehearsal space in which they play. This rift causes
people to believe they are in an environment where not only do Pieces
of Eden think they themselves are totally rad, but so do other people.
Sure,
Pieces of Eden could just be another band of delusional douchebags
who are so egotistical they think they're actually talented. But
they could be evil geniuses. I can't tell you for sure, but I can
tell you that I won't be going within a 5-15 mile radius of them
anytime soon. Wait, make that 1,000. 10,000. (Just to be safe.)
Jackassrock
wails
How
is it that a "singer" can record his tracks for an album.
Then take said recording home. Then play it for friends, family,
and the occasional drunken groupie, and NOBODY has the balls to
tell him that he's consistantly flat.
I
mean somebody in the band, or at least the person who records or
produces the songs has to realize that the vocals are off. Why does
nobody say anything?
This
raises the question, How can you be a musician when you can't hear
music ?
I
can just imagine the studio engineer grimacing the whole time, then
smiling and giving a big thumbs up when Doucheboy steps out of the
vocal booth.
fufats
falsettoed
The
above song is called Stardust
"Stardust" starts off with an "arena" intro.
I can picture the band discussing it: "Dude. When the intro
plays, we'll be standing on a dark stage, heads bowed. The smoke
machines will be billowing, and strobe blasts will go off during
the 'can you read my mind?' bit that I stole from Margot Kidder
in the first 'Superman' flick. It'll be awesome."
The
song then kicks into the main riff, a retarded exercise that no
real musician would ever use as the foundation for a song. Finally,
we are "treated" to some of the most horrendous singing
this side of Stephen Pearcy. Imagine an even more tone-deaf Kevin
Dubrow trying to channel Udo Dirkschneider stricken with strep-throat,
and you'll get a general idea.
The
song stumbles through the verse and chorus a couple times before
the guitar player "rips" into a solo demonstrating his
grasp of various guitar effects.
We
then return to the main festivities, as the "songwriter"
was apparantly too bored, too stoned, or too stupid to write a bridge.
However, instead of lyrics, the singer makes sounds like a tit sucking
infant.
The
above song is called "Twilight"
A collection of riffs and beats thrown against the wall like a bean
burrito. Much like the burrito, an indecipherable mass of indistinct
shit slides down the wall. Attempts to seperate beans from cheese
from sour cream are impossible - it's all just one big lump of poo.
The
above song is called "Amnesia"
If the flange was turned down, and the distortion a little less
processed, this could be a Billy Squier or Sammy Hagar song. A bold,
yet failed attempt to mask common early 80's butt rock as "modern
metal" by inserting some digital noises and purtyin' up the
guitar with a myriad of effects. You know what they say - you can
dress up a white trash whore, but she's still a white trash whore.
mohillic
closes out the festivities with this bon mot
Summary
Hey lets play some crap and call ourselves a band!
-the
end.
We
ran out of room for all the great commentary this week. Feel
free to read the uncut, unedited version of the thread on the RRC
forums here.
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