“Our days are numbered, six, six, six. And I’ll begin counting, by calling off the circus. Somewhere in these cryptic scriptures ‘ll find myself drifting in a sky…“
Vendetta Red, Shatterday (2003).
The Seattle short-lived act VR clocks in at No. 29 with a recent classic – coincidentally from nearly the last year I regularly listened to any actual radio. And, if you’ve visited MFG.com anytime within the last four years, you’ve no doubt seen that very line crop up every so often, on every few countdowns. And here’s what it represents – my continued misconception that anyone actually views me as mysterious.
Jimmy Page once described Led Zeppelin (well, maybe it wasn’t Jimmy Page.). A rock critic once described Led Zeppelin‘s greatness as rock and roll “at its best when its a little bit scary.” That was Led. To all teenagers before and since, Zep was mystical and dabbling in unspeakable evil. As those teenagers grew up, they (we) all realized Zep was just trying to get laid.* Even though Kashmir was totally dripping with Satanism until Puff Daddy covered it.
Anyway, I’ve long espoused (or at least hinted) the notion that black magic, Satanism, dark, spooky movies, and the occult are a little bit cool, especially in rock music. I even gravitated toward bands like Misfits and Venom, and others for a long time simply to give off the impression that I was a bit mysterious, scary, mischievious or maybe even a little insane. Ticketed straight for hell, or at the very least, a “loose cannon.” Which is, incidentally, what my high school principal called me, while kicking me out of National Honor Society on graduation day.
In actuality, I’m nothing but. I like to think I operate my best when keeping people off guard – whether it’s being cryptic, mysterious, or a little spooky. If that includes forming a 3-on-3 basketball squad called Danzig with each player’s number as, “6,” then so be it. In any case, subconsciously or consciously I’ve always hoped my underlying blackness hinted at a total badass underneath a quiet surface. In fact, it probably doesn’t – and I’ve probably seemed to overcompensate for the last 15 years. Regardless.
Anyway, it’s not as if 30 is a turning point for me in this regard. I’m still going to love it when Maynard rips Christianity in nearly every APC song, I’ll still love Metallica‘s cover of Mercyful Fate‘s Into My Coven, I still remember clapping as Tool purposely misused a Star of David on a Yom Kippur concert, I still think the Quantum Leap episode where Sam meets the devil is the series’ best, I still play Stairway backwards occasionally to hear “Evil is Good” or whatever the fuck they say, I still secretly worship The Crow, and I still think The Lost Boys is the most underrated flick of all fucking time. And, I’ll still use the f-word in sentences with a sneer, even as I type.
So of course I would predictably love Vendetta Red’s callous and nonsensical lyrical use of the mark of the beast, 6-6-6. Maybe our days are numbered 6-6-6. What does that mean? Well, what the fuck do you think it means?
See, I told you. I may actually be a badass.
*Note: Neither Led Zeppelin nor any occult hints ever got MFG laid. In fact, probably the opposite. But now that we’re almost 30, we know this.
