Back in the mid-90s, zombie and I caught Tracii Guns during one of his breaks from L.A. Guns. He was touring with some new guys playing this heavy, punky, mean, rockin awesome shit under the name Killing Machine. The Living End opened. It was one of the most awesome shows I’d ever seen.
We each peeled copies of the set-list from the stage. They had these cool red picks with KM on them. Every song or two, the guitarists would each toss a pick they’d been using away in to the audience and grab another one. We bought t-shirts. Even the t-shirts rocked. They fit perfectly. They were the perfect weight, and they had the kick-ass Killing Machine KM logo plastered on the front in HUGE letters. It was one of the most awesome shows I’d ever seen.
They played an entire set of new material, and it all kicked ass. They kept saying the album was done and would be out in a couple of months. Religiously, zombie and I would don our KM shirts once a week and head into the Tower Records across from campus. Each week, the answer was the same. No Killing Machine.
But we have picks, we’d say. We have set-lists! Tracii Guns glanced at us dismissively bÙefore returning to eyeing big-chested band sluts! But the clerk was always non-plussed. Check back next week, he’d say.
For 52 weeks, we continued our pilgrimage. For 52 weeks we held out hope. For 52 weeks, we awaited rock’s resurrection. The second coming, that promised rock rapture. We dismissed post-Nirvana comebacks by Skid Row, Love/Hate, Faster Pussycat. Even Guns N’ Roses. Guns N’ Fuck’n Roses! Even they sucked. Killing Machine would save us. Killing Machine. Killing machine…
And then there was the house on French street. Crazy math chicks. Cloves. Ohms. Bondage shows. Drugged out red heads in suits. Slash Palace. Parties. Parties. Parties.
When L.A. Guns reformed and released a new album with several Killing Machine songs, we noticed, but barely cared. I think zombie was learning why you should never date chicks who are big in the black metal scene*. I think I was crashing out of life.
Browsing the web today, I found that Tracii actually put out that Killing Machine album in 1999, long after zombie and I had abandoned the church of rock and shacked up with crazy goth chicks. We both still remember the show. It was one of the most awesome show I’ve ever seen. I may just have to buy the album so I can put it on the shelf with the rest of the old hymnals.
* Whatever the reason, chicks into black metal are fucking crazy. The theory goes like this: black metal is crazy. To be big in the black metal scene, you have to be really crazy. If you’re a chick and you’re big in the very heavily male-dominated black metal scene, then you have to be really crazy. Like really really really crazy. We have actual field research on this phenomenon. One subject goes all Apocalypse Now on some peeps. It’s crazy. There was blood.
BONUS TRIVIA: On Metalocalypse, when one of the band members was flipping burgers at a fast food joint, the place was called Dormir Burger. Is that not awesome?