Chris Krovatin

Best quote overheard in club bathroom: “Look at how nice these bathrooms are! I could OD on ecstasy here all night long!”

It’s my honest belief that if I stopped drinking tomorrow, I’d rot like a zombie left out in the sun.

The basement of New York City’s Lit Lounge is an appropriate place for a metal showcase, in that it possesses all the beauty of a torturer’s cantina.

I need sex. I need it right now, dammit. Creepy, you say? Oh, you don’t even know.

Since I was a little kid, I loved monster makeup. While other kids watched movies to see Harrison Ford or Sarah Michelle Gellar, I grabbed whichever film featured the newest works by Steve Johnson and Tom Savini.

I’m listening to a band named Beneath the Massacre right now. But really, what the fuck does it mean to be “beneath the massacre”?

When one talks about the “Metal Gods,” he or she immediately thinks of the classic song by Judas Priest bearing that name. Sadly, that song, though boss, is about giant robots taking over the earth, which is a little lame overall.

Smell that outside? Woodsmoke and cold concrete, leaves exploding orange, cracked latex, all with just a hint of cocoa and pumpkin? That’s October, baby.

Ah, black metal. Nothing moves my heart quite like the grating sounds of grim, bleak, satanic black metal.

Despite it being a Wednesday, New York City’s Knitting Factory has filled up nicely for tonight’s Watain concert.