It may be unseemly to toot your own horn, but Riverfront Times
writer Paul Friswold is the best rock journalist in this town. Let's review the reviews. Friswold on Motörhead: "Motörhead fans are a special breed. If you've ever punched a stranger in the face, puked out the door of a moving vehicle, casually swallowed the octagonal black pills handed you by a stranger or crapped on a seatless toilet in a doorless stall, you are probably a Motörhead fan." On Slayer: "Whether you are driving a delivery van through the outparceled wastelands of St. Charles, snorting Drano crystals under the bleachers during gym class or crouching in the darkness of a burned-out house on the last night of the full moon waiting for the return of Great Cthulu, Slayer should be your constant companion." On a Butthole Surfers album: "On the back of the album, they advise us to 'place this CD in your computer's CD-ROM drive to access very special features!' Like what, an apology?'" On Sepultura: "If you stand open-mouthed in front of your speakers while the first track, "Sepulnation," comes blasting out, you'll actually feel your asshole rumbling!" Friswold's description of an evil slash of graffiti scrawled in honor of Swedish death-metal band Marduk inside a Chesterfield storm drain was right-on and beautiful (look it up in the RFT
online archives). When he writes, he grabs his balls with both fists and shows that rock criticism doesn't have to be an oxymoron.