A brutally honest portrait of the artist Conor Oberst as a young man

A moment of silence, (and/or eardrum-shredding noise), please folks, for the memory of the late, great Mr. John Balance of Coil who passed earlier this month. This track is one of my favorite �songs� by this organization, the title track from their sardonic exploration of club culture in the early 1990�s. Coil were never an �industrial� band � though they could create tracks of brutal, grinding sound. They were always too musical, too playful, too smart. On this tune � and there is a really catchy tune here � Balance does his best Christopher Lee impression, growling/singing of love as sickness, mixing quotes from William Blake and Roy Orbison, over a backing track that sounds like H. P. Lovercaft does Esquivel. Brilliant stuff from a brilliant man, who will be missed.

Proving once and for all that she could carry herself as a solo artist and sing a dramatic love song, Ms. Ross slowed down the tempo and sank her emotions into this wonderful tale of unending love and devotion. The original full-length version clocks in at 6:16 but was brutally chopped down to around 3:30 for radio airplay and some of the song's most intimate words are removed. Sadly, the shorter version was featured on her box set a few years back. (what were they thinking???!!!) Get your hands on the 6 minute version and enjoy a true classic american song by a great american artist!

this band broke up (I believe) but their singer/songstress Aimee Proal is busy writing tracks for those LESS TALENTED than her! (*it makes me sad because she has a beautiful voice) Anyway, she also did a song called "Save You" which was ruined by Kelly Clarkson the O.G. song is here (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nL75QGxPN-I&feature=related)

Classical melodic death metal brutality and beauty combined, interesting vocal message and important moreso now than ever. The vocals on this song are although as brutal atempting to follow the melody more than the rest of the album.

Recorded live in Osaka on 1 February 1975, immediately before the man took a break for several years, this track makes up one entire disc of the overlooked album 'Pangaea'. Gone are the multitude of keyboard players that dominated Miles's work over the previous few years, to be replaced by brutal guitars and African percussion. The real change however is Sonny Fortune's alto sax, a welcome relief after Wayne Shorter's squeaky soprano. It lasts more than 40 minutes, but if you like mind-blowingly heavy acid-funk-rock-jazz (or early-70s Zappa) than 'Zimbabwe' is for you.

A technically astonishing piece of Egyptian-influenced death metal by a bunch of Americans from the swamps of Florida. For those not initiated in the relentless grind of thrashing guitars, double-bass tub-thumping and unholy growling vocals this is about as subtle as a horse's cock. And about as appealing as well. Make no mistake, this is brutal but in a market dominated by tedious and unchallenging MTV-friendly nu-metal, that any band can try and succeed in pulling this off is two welcome fingers in the face of Fred Durst and his pals.

This song is on Vulgar Display Of Power, one of the best hard-rock records ever made. The sound is very...empty. Empty of any accessories, stripped-down, primal. Anselmo is reproaching somebody, and is almost annoyed enough to kick their ass. Dimebag Darrell(R.I.P.) does his usual excellent-but-not-showy guitar solo. All the guitar mags were calling this style "Power Groove" when it came out.

I know, one is supposed to defer to the Eno-epoch Roxy Music, (and the first two LPs are the end of the world), but this may well be the band's most serene momment. Bryan Ferry is at the top his game here - his vocals are heavenly, his lyrics are brilliantly/brutally witty. Add the floating layers of "Melody Nelson" damaged strings and the effect is dazzling.

verry brutal

This track has got such a weird message, and though it's not in the track, the lyrics at the end of the song really pull the song around. This is copied from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/He_Hit_Me_(And_It_Felt_Like_a_Kiss)

Goffin and King wrote the song after discovering that singer Little Eva was being regularly beaten by her boyfriend. When they inquired why she tolerated such treatment, Eva replied with complete sincerity that her boyfriend's actions were motivated by his love for her.

The song was written and intended as a sort of protest song from the point of view of an abused woman. Phil Spector's arrangement was ominous and ambiguous. Dave Thompson writes, "It was a brutal song, as any attempt to justify such violence must be, and Spector �s arrangement only amplified its savagery, framing Barbara Alston�s lone vocal amid a sea of caustic strings and funereal drums, while the backing vocals almost trilled their own belief that the boy had done nothing wrong. In more ironic hands (and a more understanding age), 'He Hit Me' might have passed at least as satire. But Spector showed no sign of appreciating that, nor did he feel any need to. No less than the song�s writers, he was not preaching, he was merely documenting." [1]

Upon its initial release, "He Hit Me" received some airplay, but then there was a widespread protest of the song, with many concluding that the song was an endorsement of spousal abuse. The song soon became played only rarely on the radio, as now.

This song makes me wanna EXPLODE whenever I put it on. Think The Sonics' version of "Have Love Will Travel" with the punky rawness of The Stooges. Except that this song is even more brutally groovy! And the group dress real nicely.