Friday, January 24, 2014


The following is really just a love letter to one of my all time favorite artists and performers, David Bowie. Im a metal head. I routinely listen to Alice Cooper, Black Sabbath, Saxon, Motorhead, Mercyful Fate, Celtic Frost, Dio, Saint Vitus, Candlemass, Slayer, Marilyn Manson, Deep Purple, Venom, Death but if theres one guy who rocks my head without the aid of corpse paint, blast beats, thrash riffs, or heavy distortion its got to be David Bowie. Hes not for everybody. I get that. Hell, hes so over the map musically that its perfectly reasonable to love 1 thing he does and think the very next thing he does is the worst thing youve ever heard. Me, I evaluate each piece of work he produces for what it is. There really is no other way to process Bowie, because as I mentioned a few lines back, hes everywhere musically. His early work is somewhat reflective of the British Invasion rock popularized by the Beatles, The Rolling Stones, and The Who. Then theres The Man Who Sold the World, which was his statement on early heavy metal. Its a delicious mixture of Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, and Hawkwind. The follow up, Hunky Dory is a blend of folk, rock, and pop. Then theres The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, a classic glam rock record that laid the path for Twisted Sister, Motley Crue, Poison, and Cinderella. Through the years hes changed sounds many times. Hes been rock, metal, folk, blues, soul, glam rock, art rock, dance pop, electronica, industrial, heavy metal, jazz, trip-hop, ambient, experimental, pop, and progressive rock.

Each album, apart from having different musical styles, was an aesthetic reinvention for the artist. Bowie always changed his face and clothing to reflect the mood of the record he was supporting. Hes at times been rather plain looking with a suit and tie. Other times hes played up the gothic/alternative/industrial type appearance. During most of the 70s he featured strange brightly colored hairdos, bushy inconvenient shoulder pieces, striped frayed pants, albino white skin, oddly colored eye contacts, glitter, and blush. Essentially, he was Lady Gaga years before her mom and dad combined DNA.

Today I have posted pictures of Mr. Bowie throughout the years. Just scroll through these images and you will see a human being (an artist) evolve before your eyes. If youre a fan of his music it should be an even greater pleasure. Then I have posted samples of different eras of his work musically. If you havent explored his back catalogue and its barrage of different sounds, then let this be an introductory course to one of the worlds greatest musicians. One of the few people who have truly inspired me and my work. One of the few peoples whose voice and reason has kept me from committing suicide via chainsaw in my darkest hours. Ladies and gentleman, Mr. David Bowie. 

                                                                  David in 1967 (Age 20)

                                                                 David in 1969 (Age 22)
                                                                  David in 1972 (Age 25)

                                                                 David in 1974 (Age 27)

                                                                David in 1975 (Age 28)

                                                                   David in 1977 (Age 30)

                                                                David in 1980 (Age 33)

                                                                David in 1982 (Age 35)

                                                                  David in 1987 (Age 40)

                                                                David in 1992 (Age 45)

                                                                 David in 1995 (Age 48)

                                                                David in 2000 (Age 53)

                                                                 David in 2004 (Age 57)

                                                                  David in 2007 (Age 60)

                                                       David in 2013 (Age 66)

The Tunes:

Saturday, January 11, 2014

I Am a Vampire

It's been talked about to death so I won't even waste your time arguing the point but one must admit, today's vampires are too slick, too young, and too clean. Some have even claimed the Twilight books and films are one big chastity belt in print. At least the first couple. Vampires spend their time trying not to bite people. They find non-human substitutes and mope around shirtless crying about their cursed existence. Well to hell with that! Vampires are supposed to be sleazy, spell-binding, and assertive in their pursuit of the sweet red stuff. So I wrote this quick poem/song emphasizing the perversion, and delight in said perversion, that's missing from these modern vampire soap operas.

I Am a Vampire

You’ve had a taste of evil
I lay ruin to your body and soul
I’ve a had little taste of your blood
And now I’m out of control
One more minute in flesh called heaven
Is worth an eternity in hell
You’ll feel my bite, some random night
When my eyes take you under my spell

It’s sanguination, you’ve never felt
Such sensation, from all the blood I’ve spilt
Now don’t keep me waiting
Keep your window cracked
This hunger’s elating
And I’ll be coming back, again, again, and again
To taste your milky skin

I am a vampire
Outside of space and time
I am a vampire
Of bleeding heart and mind
I am a vampire
Yes, I’m a vampire

I see you licking
A drop of blood from your lips
Give me a taste
Just a bit from your finger tips
And Let it drip
Let it drop into your lap
I’ll find it there
Cause the blood is my X and your eyes are my map

I am a vampire
Outside of space of time
I am a vampire
Of bleeding heart and mind
I am a vampire, oh yeah
I am a vampire, oh, oh yeah
I am a vampire

Now, don’t keep me waiting
Don’t keep me waiting
Don’t keep me waiting no more
I am a vampire

Thursday, January 9, 2014

A Day in the Life of a Man Who Sucked At Everything

Ben Blows was the worst man to have ever lived and the worst man to have ever died
He was awful at everything and failed at anything he ever tried
He tried to paint but all he ever made were sloppy strokes
He tried to make people laugh but fell flat on his face with humorless jokes
He was a living wreck, as tedious and useless as can be
Pallid and dull, a total pity, his very existence was that of misery

Even his surname was horrid
“Blows” it was
And it was nothing but a point of ridicule
But accurate enough
He tried to shake it, pronounce it a different way
But his actions only helped the unconventional name to stay

As a little boy, Ben tried to fit in with his classmates but never could
They found him laughable and as interesting as a block of wood
He was no athlete; he couldn’t hit a ball if he tried
Always the last pick for the teams, team captains accepted him with terrible sighs
He thought with some time he’d learn to draw
But his pictures were messes on paper, as exciting as a clean white wall

When he hit his teens he tried to start a band
But he was no left-handed Jim Hendrix, he couldn’t play guitar with either hand
So he tried to sing, he reached for the highs and growled in his lows
Freddie Mercury he was not and on any stage he froze
He couldn’t play the bass; those 4 strings were just too tough
And on drums he pounded and pounded but just couldn’t keep up

He tried to be an actor but he was awfully reviewed
So he tried his hand as a writer
But to the page could keep no one glued
Last he tried to direct, but he was just no good
His work had made an Orson Welles out of even Ed Wood

With art a lost cause he tried to run a shop
But he was no more qualified to helm a business than he was to hold a mop
The business failed and he lost all his cash
He couldn’t manage his money; he couldn’t even take out the trash

Business down the drain he turned to construction
But he bent every nail and caused only destruction
Next he tried to sell things but he was no Billy Mays
He never managed to sell one product in 30 whole days

Down on his luck and feeling quite bad
Ben contemplated his life and ever experience he had ever had
He realized that in 20 some years he’d never done anything right
Though he worked so, so hard and tried with all his might
He read all the right books, got the best of educations
And watched all his peers honored with standing ovations
When will it be my time, he cried
When will I find my place?
He looked deep in the mirror and reflected
“I don’t even have a pleasant face”

Ben counted his savings and bought a gun
He put it under his chin and whimpered, “goodbye life, it’s not been fun.”
Then it hit him, this was his call
He dropped the gun and stood proud and tall
“I’m the worst man that ever lived,” he shouted
“No one’s worse than me and if they say they are, why I severely doubt it!”
“I’ve tried it all and I’m total shit”
“This shall be my legacy, my great claim to fame”
“With my awful face and my awful brain, the world will have no choice but to know my awful name!”

He started a website, “”
Put his face on t-shirts and magnets from New York to Vietnam
With a little help, he wrote a book about how much he sucked
Sold well over a million copies about how much he had failed
And soon a sequel about how in the face of nothing he had prevailed
Ben was on the up and up, he had it all
Women, money, his likeness on a best-selling doll
Ben took pleasure in being a loser and now knew the joy it could bring
He sat back and smiled, a day in the life of a man who sucked at everything

-Chris Petry

The Killer Must Be Killed Again

The Killer Must Be Killed Again

Don't you know they never die?
You can try, and try, and try
But you will never win my friend
The killer must be killed again!

Lots of bodies at the lake
A million bodies in your dreams
Some on hooks down Texas way
Halloween suburban streets

Look out lady!
A killer's knife
Masked and mad, he'll take your life!
The killer smiles, an evil grin
Tomorrow rise
The killer must be killed again

Just when you think your safe
And the daylight comes
Just remember no matter how fast you are
You'll always be outrun

Don't you know evil never dies?
Take a good long look in the blackness
The devil's eyes
Their madness transcends the flesh its in
Close your eyes and count to ten
When you look, he'll begin
The killer must kill again

- Chris Petry