Metal Moments: Please Get Our Singer Some Pants

There is a kind of romanticism that occurs when fans wonder about the lives of their favorite celebrities.  Whether we think of all of our pop culture heroes as Ferris Bueller, a guy who seemed to have everything fall right into his lap as though the powers that be always smiled upon him, or as James Bond in that all men want to be him and all women want to be with him, we invest a certain amount of faith in the idea that the people who write the music that inspires us, or who star in the films that entertain us have lives that go smoothly all the time. Maybe for some people life is like that.  For underground metal bands, and specifically underground metal drummers I can assure you that is not always the case.  

Occasionally weird things happen to aloof, distracted people and sometimes even the most poorly conceived plans go horribly awry. Confessor and Loincloth both have "less than perfect" stories to tell that will hopefully bring a smile, and a healthy dose of realism to those of you who assume that we, your metal providers, lived blessed lives every day.  Some of you may say every one of us lives a blessed life every day, but aren't there levels of blessedness? It would seem that some levels produce rather funny or embarrassing moments that need to be shared with you, the ever faithful and devoted fans.  From time to time I'll retell some of the small adventures that keep us in touch with our own inner Beavis and Butthead.  They will run the gamut from tales of brazen stupidity to those precious moments when everything melts away and you are left to fend off disaster while frozen by the inability to decipher what is going on around you.

Thank You, My Unpaid Minions!

Wow!  I have been overwhelmed by the incredibly kind and inspiring things people have said in response to the mini documentary Brian Quast put up on YouTube!  You guys really know how to make a girl blush, though admittedly I embarrass quite easily.  It has even prompted some flattery from family members who have never been able to fully relate to what my passion has been for my entire adult life.  I have always been "Stephen" to them, not a drummer, not a musician, just "Stephen".  That's fine by me, too.  I do come from a musical family, but we are family first and foremost.

Drumroll, Please...

I have exciting news for you all! For months I have been waiting to share this with you and at long last, the time has come.  I am proud to announce that a documentary about Yours Truly ( click Shelton Doc ) has been uploaded to YouTube for all to see.  Local drumming hero and all around good guy, Brian Quast approached me with the idea of filming a documentary back in 2014. We had a few interviews together before he brought his gear down to the space Confessor and Loincloth shared at the time.  The guys were great sports about the intrusion and Brian was delightful throughout the entire process.  Unfortunately for Brian he was stuck with me as his subject, but I think in the end he felt like his suffering was worth it.

In My Element

Have you ever had the experience of returning to an old, favorite meal after months or even years of trying other things, and once you run your finger through the last drop of savory juices left on the plate feeling as though you just ate a long, lost friend? It's like rediscovering one of life's simple pleasures after being all but forgot.  The kind of subtle, confident smile that devouring an ol' pal puts on your face is one that can keep you in high spirits for days. Now that Loincloth grows increasingly smaller in my rearview mirror I have been able to dive back into a steaming plate of polyrhythms and patterns, Confessor style, and I am thoroughly enjoying the warm comfort of returning to the things that made me the kind of drummer I am, and always wanted to be.  I am devouring an old friend as it were, and even with the occasional kicking and screaming, it is a delightful experience that I appreciate now more than ever before.  Truth be known I actually like the kicking and screaming, too.  It adds to the mystique.

What Do I See Over the Horizon...

Hello there, my loyal minions! At this point perhaps I should say "... my loyal minion". That is assuming that my mother actually reads this blog. Here's hoping that life is treating everyone well in 2017. Ours has had some ups and a couple of downs, but nothing that has not been, or cannot be overcome.  Monica and I went back to our favorite home away from home, Barcelona, back in February.  We simply cannot get enough of that place!  This time we convinced our mothers to come with us so that they could get a glimpse of what we find so inspiring about the heart of Catalonia. They were indeed impressed!  At some point in the future I may write about what a "metal" city Barcelona is.  Our friends from the Day of Doom festival, Samo and Jose, were both kind enough to take time from their busy schedules to show us around and keep us entertained as they have every time we've been to visit. Saludos mis amigos, and good luck with the next Day of Doom.

Bass In Your Face:

Loincloth have made another step toward the completion of their next collection of future classics in the world of "music worth paying attention to" after my trip last weekend up to Tannon's makeshift home studio.  We recorded the last of our bass ideas in his living room by using the black magic of modern technology, along with the sacrificial offering of a few lesser mammals.  Fear not, no computers were harmed during the production of our latest album.  We are not monsters.  We understand the value of home computers versus the life of an otherwise useless animal.  We also recognize that computers have fragile egos that require massaging from time to time in order to minimize those frustrating moments during which everything you thought you understood about recording software flies out the window as your screen locks up, teasing you with the fear of losing what you just spent hours working on.  Yes, blood sacrifices are necessary.  One mustn't upset the techno-gods.

Chugging Along in 2017

Alright fellow Pounderers, now that all of the smoke has cleared from your New Year's festivities and the last remaining mystery from the night is whose idea it was to bring a party donkey, life has hopefully begun to return to something a little more normal for you.  We can keep the donkey thing between the two of us, at least until all the charges are dropped.  We don't judge around here.  In case you didn't know, unlike the inflatable kind, real donkeys can become unpredictable when they drink.  I think most people would understand why you both had awful hangovers, and why your New Year's Resolution is what it is.

NyQuil was the drug of choice at the Shelton household New Year's Eve as I chose to be sick that entire weekend. Waterworks, not fireworks ruled the night.  The kind that drip from your nose.  You know, the sexy kind.  While I did miraculously stay up to see midnight even after believing I might not see nine o' clock, I did not see twelve thirty.  Now Monica is sick. I made it look so damned cool she wanted to get in on the action.  Maybe we'll be done with all of that for the rest of 2017 and we can focus on world domination, horror movies and Mexican food. Our desires are simple, you see.