Last night I discovered that my good friend Naturre G. of Tengger Cavalry was gone.
A few years back I found Mongolian Throat Singing hip hop, and I loved it. It was strangely hypnotic and fun, even if my music of choice has always been metal. A few months later a friend of mine gave me an article from a finance magazine he read that strangely had an article about Heavy Metal around the world. Of course there were bits about Baby Metal and various Norwegian bands.
But then a few paragraphs down was an segment about Mongolian Folk Metal band Tengger Cavarly. I immediately went to itunes and found their music. And fell in love. It was brutal, but melodic, taking the care to include traditional Mongolian instruments and melodies. All over brutal throat singing lyrics. I followed them of social media, listened to their albums non-stop and lamented the fact that I would probably never see them live.
Then the next week, I saw an ad, they were playing my hometown in two weeks at the Come and Get it Live. I bought tickets.
It was a great show, I dragged some friends with me, and it was even a blast. A few months later I got a message on facebook from Naturre. He saw that I had come to the show in Austin, and wanted to know if he could crash with me while he looked for a place to live. After checking with my wife, we said yes.
Naturre was a fantastic guest, he played guitar with my 4 year old daughter, he brought gifts, he was friendly and unimposing. He was fantastically talented and creative. He was also very open about his struggle with depression over the years, and how hard he fought against it to stay alive. It was one of the reasons he moved to Austin, to get away from a culture he felt was poisoning him. He felt like he could make new friends and be healthier here.
Naturre campaigned for everyone to get help with depression, and to speak to people about suicidal thoughts. But even as he did those things, he fought against those demons himself. He struggled with trying to continually find success in the face of bands with more resources and online trolls. He struggled to make ends meet in a world where racism was a constant and daily reality thrown in his face.
He created a label to help other small Nomadic Metal bands come to the US and get bigger recognition, he volunteered his music for the Madness Heart Radio podcast. He offered to mix our Cover Artists self recorded album. Whatever tools and resources Naturre had at his disposal were at the disposal of his friends. He even wrote a blurb for my poetry chapbook, all out of kindness and love.
Naturre was involved in video game soundtracks including Doom Eternal & Civilization Beyond Earth , and movie soundtracks like All the Wild Horses. He had solo projects, he played Carnegie Hall twice. His talent, intelligence and dedication to people towered above most. And I will miss him intensely.
Last week, my blog post was an interview with Stephanie Wytovich about her use of horror in the classroom. During the course of that interview, we discussed the importance of diverse voices in the horror genre. Today’s post is going to involve that discussion.
I’ve referred before, in
my review of Clive Barker’s Books of
Blood, to what I’ve called Stephen King’s conservatism. I want
to clarify, before digging into a few examples of his treatment of pregnancy,
that I don’t mean he’s politically right-of-center. If anything, King’s long-running
dispute with Maine Governor (and unapologetic white nationalist)
Paul LePage indicate that he’s a lefty when it comes to social and fiscal
issues. The conservatism I talk about when I point it out in King is more of an
attitudinal, dispositional conservativism. It’s a habit of mind, a way of
looking at the world that King (in Danse
Macabre) framed as a
tension between the Apollonian and the Dionysian, between chaos and
March 10, 2018 was one of the craziest days of my life. They say the definition of insanity is repeating the same behavior and expecting different results? Not so. True insanity is watching all five Sharknado films in one day.
After a string of embarrassingly low budget movies, I decided to review something with a little Hollywood clout.
You know, it’s not a bad movie, but it’s just so lukewarm compared to movies in its class. I’d compare this one to Stir of Echoes, and every time I do, I’m just going to end up saying, watch that instead. We can pretty much cut to the punch line here. Everything this movie does, Stir of Echoes does better, just with fewer shameless jump-scares.
In honor of Pride Month, we are so happy to offer this story about a young transgender man by author Evelyn Deshane. This story was originally submitted for the Body Horror anthology, and we didn’t think it fit that theme, but we knew that it was an important story, and one we wanted to be able to tell the world. We have broken it into three parts, and one part will be offered each week of the month. Enjoy!
If you are a horror fan and do not know who Stephanie Wytovich is, learn—quickly. You will not be disappointed. I’ve known her for years, and after I read her Bram Stoker Award-winning poetry collection Brothel, I’ve never been able to look at her the same.
Depending on your definition of horror and how broadly you want to define the canon, the first pregnancy-themed horror stories are tales of gods and monsters; stories that explained both the generative and destructive powers of the universe. This is understandable, not only as theology but also as divine biology, infant mortality and rates of illness and death for expectant mothers being what they were in the misty days of myth: as below, so above. It’s difficult to ascertain the degree of personal choice involved in the matter, but the earliest archeological representations of divinity are of a pregnant mother-goddess, her breasts and belly swollen to exaggerated fullness. If not an image of agency, that is at least an image of potency and power. Sometimes, the women or goddesses in these ancient stories demonstrate agency, as when the titan Cronus’ wife, Rhea, and mother, Gaia, conspired to feed him a rock in place of his son Zeus. More often, however, pregnancy in myth and religion – from Zeus and Leda to Yahweh and Mary — tends to be visited upon women, rather than something that they choose.