Acid Bath
When the Kite String Pops
1994
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"I feel the wetness of her tongue
that slides across my skin
the viruses crawl over me and feel for some way in"
There are so many metal fiends out there choking in a corporate dust storm of Sevendust and Mudvayne, with apparently no idea of what true metal ever was. I've come a long way since my stint with pure hardcore, but this is a timeless record that never fails to resurrect a burning anger in my heart that reminds me exactly why I have a hundred black t-shirts in my closet still, and why I ever felt like murder or suicide could help heal a wounded soul.
"I wonder how long you would live
with a bullet in your gut
I wonder how much shit you'd talk
if your throat was cut
I wonder what you'd sound like begging me
to let you breathe
I wonder how much pain it would take
to make you all believe."
Acid Bath was not a band whose songs could be taken lightly. To a teenager growing up in Southern Louisiana, they were like a shepherd, pulling us from the fields of our Southern Bible Belt homes, and ushering us out into the streets and woods and swamps to create mischief and wreak havoc on all who opposed our solid black personas. This music was darker than the newest of combat boots, heavier than the best drugs we could find, and as thick as the swamp after a hurricane. If you want to hear something that will haunt you in your sleep, or get you thrown out of Sunday school for reciting lyrics, then put down the Metallica records (They suck more ass than Lars Ulrich does in a week.), flush your P.O.D. down the toilet, and mail that korn c.d. to your 6 month old little cousin (He'll be hooked in a day), and go buy a copy of Acid Bath's 1994 release of When The Kite String Pops. Only your relatives will be sorry you did.
Sunshine; in the house of flames.
She loves it where she gets it
but it's never felt the same.
Surgery, in the house of dissection;
when your candle burns out I'll resurrect you.
She runs
through fields of daisies.
Yeah, it's just a shame that they eat their own babies.
Who cares?
'Cause the air is free.
When you get there will you kiss the dead for me?
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