Doomed to Fail: The
Incredibly Loud History of Doom, Sludge, and Post-metal, is the
upcoming book from author and musician, J.J. Anselmi, chronicling the
history and idiosyncrasies of the heaviest aspect of heavy rock
music, and the weighty genres mentioned in its title.
The book comes
February 11th, 2020, through Rare Bird Books, and ahead of its
release we have an exclusive excerpt published for the first time,
centered around sludge metal masters, Crowbar.
J.J. Anselmi, author
of Heavy: A Memoir of Wyoming, BMX, Drugs, and Heavy Fucking Music,
as well as drummer for several bands, including In the Company of
Serpents and Former
Worlds, and
currently of Drainage, states about the Crowbar excerpt:
"I tend to get
bored by books that use the same structure and approach for every
chapter, so I decided to mix it up with this one and write a
recommendation letter for Kirk Windstein to be selected for the
imaginary distinction of Riff Master General. I had just lost my job,
so I was madly sending out cover letters and feeling like I didn't
want to write (or read) one ever again. That somehow turned into a
joke in my head about writing a recommendation/cover letter for a
musician and trying to do something fun with a mostly-boring form of
writing. Kirk is one of the most legendary figures in doom and sludge
metal, so I think it's a way to highlight that in a way that uses
both humor and sincerity."
Read the chapter
below.
_______________
To Whom It May
Concern:
I’m writing to
recommend Kirk Windstein, founder and chief of NOLA sludge
forerunners, Crowbar, for the position of Riff Master General. Mr.
Windstein was among New Orleans’s first purveyors of sludge, which
is to say he was one of the first purveyors of sludge, period. From
Shell Shock and The Slugs to Down and, of course, Crowbar, Mr.
Windstein has orchestrated hundreds of perfect riffs—the ones that
buckle knees. His riffs are written with the structural integrity of
the most enduring architecture. They’ll stand up for as long as
humans are around.
Before Crowbar,
Windstein played in Victorian Blitz, covering heavy metal classics by
the likes of WASP and Judas Priest. Not long thereafter, he joined a
crossover thrash band called Shell Shock, wedding the primitive
attack of Cro-Mags with the blistering speed of Slayer. Jimmy Bower
played drums—so yeah, it was good. In 1988, the band’s singer,
Mike Hatch, committed suicide. He was one of Windstein’s best
friends. Windstein immediately channeled that pain into music,
holding band practice the day after Hatch’s funeral. When faced
with crushing pain, Mr. Windstein uses it as the impetus to write
riffs of great emotional weight. He knows that we live in a heavy
world that demands equally heavy music.
After Hatch died,
Shell Shock became After Shock with Kevin Noonan taking on vocal
duties. The band went through a few more name changes, first to
Wrequiem and then to The Slugs, enlisting Todd Strange on bass after
Mike Savoie left. The Slugs fell apart fairly quickly, but the people
at Grind Core Records didn’t know that when they called Mr.
Windstein to sign his band. He hurriedly formed a new band with
Noonan on lead guitar, the mighty Craig Nunenmacher on drums, and
Strange on bass, handling vocals and guitar himself. They called it
Crowbar. Listening to Crowbar is like getting bludgeoned by an
unwieldy piece of steel, so the moniker is one of those rare examples
of a band’s name perfectly matching its sound. Having existed in
several different iterations since then— always with Windstein at
the helm—Crowbar has been unleashing formidable albums for nearly
thirty years. As with Wino, Mr. Windstein is one of those people who
will be writing badass riffs until there’s no air left in his
lungs.
Crowbar embarked on
multiple tours with Pantera throughout the nineties. Fans of that
band will recognize Mr. Windstein from his appearances in Pantera’s
sophisticated video productions, Vulgar Videos (From Hell), aka The
Home Videos. Pantera did not fuck around when it came to partying.
Windstein fit right in. During those tours, he’d run around in full
Hulk regalia for shits and giggles. He was also known to paint his
face like Peter Criss of Kiss and run around, holding his hands up
like claws and hissing. Cocaine was involved. Windstein and Crowbar
also gained notoriety from their appearances on Beavis and Butthead.
Videos for “Existence is Punishment” and “All I Had (I Gave),”
both from the bridge-buckling Crowbar LP (1993), aired on the show as
its protagonists provided such insight as, “This music is slow and
fat.” These appearances helped to establish Windstein as a mythic
figure in the metal world. Of course, his riffs are his true legacy.
In the early days,
Crowbar trafficked in relentless heaviness, slowing down caveman
hardcore to a knuckled crawl. That vibe comes across on every Crowbar
album. From 1995’s Time Heals Nothing onward, Mr. Windstein has
also illustrated a penchant for dynamic eeriness, intermixing brutish
heaviness with foreboding ether. Neurosis is a fitting analog to
Crowbar: both bands have evolved from unadulterated aggression to
embrace haunting quietude. Both bands still educe tremors.
When it comes to
choosing a favorite Crowbar record, some prefer the no-frills
pugilism of Crowbar. Others gravitate to the sonically varied Odd
Fellows Rest. To me, 1995’s Time Heals Nothing and 2001’s Sonic
Excess in Its Purest Form are peak Crowbar. Throughout the former,
Nunenmacher circles Windstein’s formidable riffs like someone
trained in jiu-jitsu, finding syncopated points of attack. Opener
“The Only Factor” sprints in a forceful D-beat and then gives
listeners cauliflower ear with its sludgy chokehold. The song’s end
section grooves so hard that it’s not safe to listen to while
driving or operating heavy machinery. The title track, “Time Heals
Nothing,” is a metallic New Orleans funeral procession for Mike
Hatch that would’ve made the singer proud.
As for Sonic Excess
in Its Purest Form, “The Lasting Dose” envisions Master of
Puppets’ guitar harmonies through a watery opiate blur. Bower and
Nunenmacher have laid down a plethora of staggering and unique
Crowbar beats over the years, so it’s understandable why many
people favor the records featuring those drummers. Tony Costanza of
Machine Head plays drums on Sonic Excess in Its Purest Form. His
percussion nods to Nunenmacher and Bower, but Costanza is also his
own animal. “To Build a Mountain” finds the skinsman emphasizing
those notes in Windstein’s riffs that make headbanging a biological
imperative. Some of my favorite guitarists play guitar like a
percussion instrument, which is to say that they play with violence.
Windstein plays guitar with violence. His riffs pinpoint rhythmic
pressure points, so their heaviness is something you feel as much as
hear. You can tell that he hears drums in his head when he writes
guitar parts by the way his riffs move. The opening section of “To
Build a Mountain” showcases another signature Windstein tactic:
putting skull-digger chugs alongside rubber-legged single notes.
Windstein’s riffs are unmistakably his own. There have been many
impersonators but no duplicators in terms of impact. Same goes for
his gravel-throated yowls and the way his lyrics vacillate between
determined encouragement and hopelessness.
As you might know,
Crowbar is not Mr. Windstein’s only foray into spine crunchingly
heavy music. Back in the early nineties, he started jamming with Phil
Anselmo, Jimmy Bower, Pepper Keenan, and Todd Strange in Down,
releasing the classic NOLA in 1995, a record that inhabits the same
shelf of prestige as Paranoid, Reign in Blood, and The Great Southern
Trendkill. It feels weird when people call Down a supergroup. That
makes it sound cynical, like a marketing ploy. Down started as five
buddies jamming, which NOLA perfectly captures. Those friends were
members of Pantera, Corrosion of Conformity, Crowbar, and Eyehategod,
so it’s a little better than what you or I would produce with our
friends after a night out. In the way those guys’ styles gel, it’s
so clear that their bands were guided by the same energy—not
ripping each other off, just drinking from the same dark current. A
lot of NOLA’s riffs are obvious collisions between Windstein and
Keenan’s styles. Look at “Lifer” and how its linebacker chugs
(Windstein) stomp through Sabbathian syrup (Keenan). There are also
parts of the record that sound like pure Windstein: namely “Bury Me
in Smoke” and the way it finds melodic movement between notes so
close together, not to mention its heavyweight plod.
In conclusion, I ask
that you consider the sheer number of timeless and emotionally dense
riffs Mr. Windstein has given us: Eleven Crowbar LPs, four Down LPs,
and three LPs with Kingdom of Sorrow, his band with Hatebreed’s
Jamey Jasta. Again, that’s literally hundreds of riffs that stand
like marble columns. While the distinction of Riff Master General
might be invented—a bit silly, even—it feels like a more accurate
way to talk about Kirk Windstein than as a guy who plays guitar.
Thanks for your time and consideration. Please let me know if you
have any questions.
Sincerely,
A fan
_______________
Author photo by Taylor Lacayo
J.J. Anselmi has
also curated a couple of playlists, Origins+ Doom and Sludge, which tie into the book.
On February 21st,
2020 at Page Against the Machine in Long Beach, CA, the author will
meet with music fans and sign copies of the book.
Doomed to Fail
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