The cliche that a music critic is nothing but a frustrated musician sadly couldn’t be more true. It’s a little known fact that I myself play lead guitar in a heavy metal band.
Although we have enjoyed some limited commercial success in mainly Scandinavian countries it’s been difficult to achieve mainstream acceptance throughout the rest of Europe. Perhaps it’s because of the conservative tastes of your average European listener. Perhaps it’s because of all the rap music that’s crowding the continent’s airwaves? Perhaps it’s because our name is Pope John Paul’s Rusty Fuck Swing. Who knows?
Despite our lack of commercial success, I can at least claim the privilege of being in charge of PJPRFS’s ground-breaking and at times, deeply challenging art direction. Just like all brilliant artists however, some of my ideas don’t necessarily sit well with my contemporaries. Or with my band mates. Or with the fans. Or in fact anyone with a modicum of so called ‘taste’.
“What of these cruelly discarded ideas?” You might well ask, “will they ever see the light of day?”
Well today is your lucky day, because now for the first time I can finally reveal the babies I had to kill (metaphor) in order for the other ‘better’ ideas to float to the top like particularly stubborn fecal deposits (not a metaphor).
These are the 20 rejected album titles for my heavy metal band:
Hotpoint Gas Chamber
Upset far too many demographics. Not least our tour sponsors Hotpoint.
The album cover I imagined would feature a big cock-shaped train emerging from a tunnel with smoke billowing out of a little chimney just below the head.
I probably don’t need to draw it for you.
Oh go on then…
Hot Fisting Wednesdays (It’s Not What You Think)
Except it is. It’s definitely what you think. I won’t draw this one for you.
All of the song titles on the album are spoonerisms based on lady-bits: ‘Viant Gagina’, ‘Felicious Danny’, ‘Goothed Tash’ etc. I know it’s been done before, but not quite as good.
This would have been our first foray into the world of rap-metal crossovers. I’m picturing a nervous young hoodlum, baseball cap on backward, waiting in a VD clinic surrounded by buxom nurses, overlarge syringes and a maniacal doctor not dissimilar to the one from Re-Animator. Terrifying yet deeply, deeply erotic.
Whither the Wuzzles (The Search For Bumblelion)
A concept album involving the band’s mystical journey across the Isle of Wuz, where we meet various characters from the short-lived fantasy cartoon series and try to figure out where their half bumblebee, half lion friend has disappeared to.
One of us eats a load of jam with Eleroo, one of us fucks Butterbear and Moosel gets his head sawn off by Crocosaur. Bumblelion is never found. Nasty stuff.
Lustmord And Wargasm (The Lick Of Carnivorous Winds)
Already taken by another band. Unbelievable!
Eyes Pushed Through The Back of Your Skull
Mooted acoustic album.
Pukebot Comes Home
Where had he gone? Why did he leave? Why has he come back now? All these questions will be answered and more.
The other question of whether he’s a robot built for the sole purpose of vomiting or to clean up vomit will remain somewhat ambiguous.
Or will it?…
Pain Slave Asks For Too Much, I Give Him Too Little
The homo-erotic overtones were fine. The multi-penised cat-o-nine tails on the cover was not.
The artist who we chose to paint the cover depicted a laser that when fired at a lady, her clothes would disintegrate. This went against my original concept of a laser that fired a sort of gloopy liquid, like a particularly viscous ketchup.
Discarded due to artistic differences.
Particularly Viscous Ketchup
It was felt I wasn’t trying hard enough.
Skull-Fucking Barbecue Dementia
Sounds tasty right? Wrong. There’s actually skull-fucking and dementia at this barbecue.
Death Wrist Influenza
This is based on the old adage that by combining the words death or blood, with a random body part and then a disease, you’ve got yourself a metal classic.
Other less winning examples include Blood Elbow Mange and Death Armpit Gonorrhoea.
Deemed as copyright infringement.
Funnier if I had thought of the idea before the release of Guns n’ Roses’ comically delayed album. Turns out five years later it’s less than topical.
Human-Size Meat Grinder Hidden Down a Well
Coincidentally more than one of our backing singers has succumbed to this grizzly end. This was a mooted tribute album for them.
Jesus Christ: Bestial Prince
Our Price refused to stock this if we didn’t back down on the title. Which led to the following protest album…
Our Price’s Secret Paedophile Ring
Every shop on the high street refused to stock this one apart from a rather desperate Woolworths.
Fred and Rose For Tea
The cover depicted the band drinking Earl Grey from the skulls of the notorious but nonetheless deeply romantic serial killing pair. This was a compromise from the earlier version where we were just having a nice dinner with them.
There’s plenty more stupid claptrap on the site, for instance here you can find out how having a beard can make you a more successful actor.