(Part 10 of an ongoing series)
Everyone- especially everyone in the Post-Apocalypse- ought to have a special song handy for when shit’s about to get heavy. In the Post-Apocalypse, shit’s gonna get heavy like at least twice a day. We’re all gonna need to psych ourselves up (and psych our enemies out) with songs that shout, “This heavy shit can go right back up the ass it plopped out of, as long as I have anything to say about it!”
No doubt a number of unoriginal tools will survive into the Post-Apocalypse, and their Heavy Shit song will be “Eye Of The Tiger.” Some slightly less toolish individuals will choose Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man,” a totally bad-ass song whose only crime in this case is Grand Obviousness. Same goes for “Enter Sandman,” “Welcome To The Jungle,” or any other song that has already been the entrance theme for a famous boxer, pro wrestler or relief pitcher. Cliche can be like kryptonite to intimidation.
I don’t think any athletes or sports entertainers have ever claimed “Roadbull” by The Melvins, so that shall be my Heavy Shit Song.
“Roadbull” starts out feeling like a number of other Heavy Shit Songs, but very quickly, the kinky rhythms and snaky riffs put you on your toes. Beavis and Butt-head could get down to this tune, but they probably couldn’t memorize the riffs well enough to hum along. It’s dangerous and spry. It taps into deep, instinctual fears, and even better, it’s unpredictable. And that’s exactly what I want my Post-Apocalyptic foes to think I am: fearsome and unpredictable.
“Roadbull” is a savage, brutish caveman, but it’s the craftiest savage, brutish caveman who ever lived. A savage, brutish caveman so crafty that the other cavemen got jealous and felt threatened, and so they conspired to kill him. (Eventually they did kill him, but it took about 15 tries, like with Rasputin.)
The lyrics briefly mention prophets and Lords, giving “Roadbull” a vaguely Biblical feel, and that’s also a plus. Having “Roadbull” as my Heavy Shit Song will be kind of like I have God on my side. I may be agnostic, even in the Post-Apocalypse, but I’ll still try to convince as many people as possible, myself included, that God is, in fact, on my side.
Best of all, there’s that long coda. After all the head-banging and pile-driving and Polynesian war dancing, there’s those martial drum-rolls and those melodic, nonchalant whistles. Like the battle’s over, and it was a bit rough here and there, but in the end we kicked so much ass and triumphed so hard that we’re whistling and marching on. And this is the key to “Roadbull”‘s power as a Heavy Shit song: it forces the enemy to hear not just the heavy metal juggernaut that’s waiting to kick their ass, but it also treats them to the sound of us whistling victoriously and marching on to the next round of Heavy Shit. That’s gotta add an extra thick layer of intimidation that most other Heavy Shit songs just don’t have.
Approx. 3 minutes, 26 seconds; 7,879 minutes, 17 seconds left on the iPod