Everything You Need to Know About Yellowstone Season 4

You need to suspend more than just disbelief, okay?

  

By Kevin Broughton

 

It’s complicated.

 

About three years ago, I started getting text messages from a friend back in Mississippi: “Have you watched Yellowstone?” 

 

Well, of course I hadn’t. “Isn’t Kevin Costner the lead actor?” I asked. “You know, he’s not really known for his…well, acting.” My friend assured me that this didn’t matter.  I remained unconvinced. A year went by.

 

My friend, who knows I write for this site, upped the ante. “You like Whiskey Myers, right? Bro, they’re all over the soundtrack.” My friend – we’ll call him “Johnny” -- knows me too well. Sure enough, just a few minutes into Season 1, episode 1, I was treated to Stapleton’s “Tennessee Whiskey,” then this gem from the aforementioned Dallas rockers:

  

“Johnny” used excellent music like a 3/0 treble hook on my inner cheek, and I now I couldn’t shake loose from this soap opera if I wanted to. Indeed, it’s complicated. 

 

Let’s get down to business, which is letting FTM readers know all they need to about Sunday’s premiere of Yellowstone, Season FOUR:

 

1. THE GREAT

 

Here are just some of the artists who have appeared on the soundtrack through the first three seasons:

 

Ryan Bingham (more on him in a moment:)

  

Uncle Lucius

 

Whitey Morgan and the 78s

Emmylou Harris

 

John Pardi

 

Kacey Musgraves

 

Blackberry Smoke:

  

Jason Isbell

 

Tyler Childers:

  

This list isn’t close to exhaustive. It is a fair sampling, though. The soundtrack is exquisite. Perfection. 

 

2. THE VERY GOOD

 

Anyone who’s visited Big Sky Country knows what a wonderful backdrop any cinematographer will have to work with. Montana is ready-made cinematic beauty, and the guys behind the cameras on Yellowstone do not disappoint. Watch a few episodes, and you’ll want to visit Montana; I know it’s made me crave a return trip. It’s some of the best photography on television, period.

 

3. THE MERELY MEDIOCRE

 

Have you noticed that we’re a couple hundred words in and we haven’t discussed what Yellowstone is actually about? Things get dicey here.

 

The “Plot.” (Spoilers ahead)

 

Yellowstone is the name of the ranch owned by John Dutton, the unluckiest man alive. The plot? In each of the first three seasons, it’s this: SOMEONE IS TRYING TO TAKE JOHN DUTTON’S LAND!!!1!

 

In Season One, it’s the Injuns. Seriously. Not the scalping kind, but their honorable, suit-wearing and casino-owning descendants. Never mind that it’s 2018; forget the Bureau of Indian Affairs and gaming licenses. Heck, forget the civil court system. Those would get in the way of a classic cowboys-and-Indians narrative.

 

Seasons two and three feature corporate raiders and hedge-fund dudes who want to build an airport (two) and city (three)…ON JOHN DUTTON’S LAND!!!! 

 

At first, they all offer John Dutton money; filthy lucre to make him wealthy beyond the dreams of all avarice. They also beat up his daughter and blow shit up. But so far, THEY HAVEN’T TAKEN JOHN DUTTON’S LAND.

 

4. THE BAD

 

Go ahead and pour a drink.

 

The characters and “actors”

 

This is typically called “the cast” in show business, but it’s helpful to break them down. Getting back to my initial concern when my pal pitched me the show: Yes, Kevin Costner is the male lead, playing the eternally besieged John Dutton. Costner has a 40-plus year body of work to judge. 

 

Here’s one of the most memorable scenes in the first three seasons of Yellowstone:

  

There you have it. Kevin Costner, ladies and gentlemen. Actually, that’s not quite fair. Costner had the role of a lifetime in The Big Chill. It’s an accomplishment that will stand out long after he’s shuffled off this mortal coil. 

 

Dutton has three kids. Well, he had four, but the oldest son – whose name is unimportant – got ventilated in the series’ first episode. That poor actor really got hosed on residuals. 

 

Here are the three remaining Dutton offspring:

 

Kayce (pronounced “Casey”) is the untamed free spirit. He’s a war hero because of course he is. (Navy SEAL, natch.) He’s so alienated from his dad that he hooks up with an Indian woman (would you believe she’s absolutely gorgeous?) makes a baby with her, and lives in a trailer on the reservation. In the very first episode, his hot Indian wife gets a job teaching college, which can only make Kayce feel even more inadequate. He’s actually considering going back overseas and they’re arguing about it in the truck, when a meth lab explodes right next to them.  Just a typical day on Yellowstone.

 

Jamie is a stupid guy who does lots of stupid shit. He’s a lawyer – manages to get himself appointed Montana Attorney General a few episodes in – with a wide sociopathic streak, forever doing self-destructive things. He murders a lady reporter in Season One. In Season Three, we learn that he’s not really a Dutton after all. No, sir. You see, John Dutton may be a gruff man, fighting off all those who want to TAKE HIS LAND, but he has a heart of gold. Many years ago, he adopted Jamie, the welp of a white trash dad and addict mom, when the former beat the latter to death. When Jamie finds out, his reaction isn’t profound gratitude to John, but resentment. He finds his biological dad – living in filth – and decides to turn against the Dutton family. 

 

Beth is John Dutton’s only daughter. She’s a corporate raider, and we get a taste of her ruthlessness in an early boardroom scene; she reduces titans of industry to sniveling wretches with her acid tongue. But her hyper-capitalist days are soon behind her. John Dutton has called her home to fight THE PEOPLE WHO ARE TRYING TO TAKE HIS LAND. She deals with stress the way any woman in high finance would: By having a lot of casual sex with the ranch foreman. Beth can’t have children because when Jamie took her to get an abortion when she was 15, the doctors told him (but not her) that she would never be able to have kids if they do the procedure. Jamie being Jamie, he says “Fine by me.” 

 

Rip is the ranch foreman. Another stray John Dutton picked up, he usually channels his anger into his work, or the occasional grudge-banging of Beth Dutton. Then again, he’s committed or been complicit in a half-dozen murders through three seasons. He’s the son John Dutton never had. 

 

Jimmy goes from being a meth head in Season One episode one, to being duct-taped to the saddle to learn how to ride the next week, to a competent rodeo cowboy by the middle of the season. 

 

Governor Lynelle Perry bears more than a passing resemblance to North Dakota Gov. Kristi Noem in real life. On the show, she’s banging John Dutton, because of course she is. In Season Three, she sides with those TRYING TO TAKE JOHN DUTTON’S LAND.

 

Walker is a ranch hand we see a lot of in seasons one and three. Oh, and he’s played by Ryan Bingham, far and away the best actor on the show. Yes, I know that’s counterintuitive. Back when The Sopranos dominated the popular culture, I had an unpopular opinion: James Gandolfini was not a great actor. How hard can it be for a fat, Italian Yankee to play a fat, Italian Yankee? Yes, Ryan Bingham was an actual cowboy in real life. And he’s the only actor in the entire cast of Yellowstone who comes across authentically. That says less about Ryan Bingham than it does the casting director.

 

5. THE PUTRID

 

The sad thing is, Yellowstone doesn’t have to be awful. It’s a choice made by the showrunners. 

 

The Horrifically Lazy Writing

 

Years ago, a lady friend roped me into watching several episodes of Grey’s Anatomy. I was relieved of this duty after six or so instances of being able to recite the actors’ dialogue before it was said on screen. Just one hackneyed cliché after another. 

 

All soap operas are essentially the same, whether the setting is an operating room or a roping pen. 

 

In “Cowboys and Dreamers,” (Season Three, episode five) Kayce (newly installed Livestock Commissioner) breaks several laws to do the “right” thing. Some poor cowboy has killed himself – there’s actually blood and brain matter on the foreclosure notice. Kayce, with the acquiescence of the sheriff, sells the string of ponies and delivers the cash to the grieving widow. “Cowboys and dreamers,” she says, with wistful regret. “That’s all I’ve ever fallen for.” Ugh. But it gets worse when Kayce chats with the dead cowpoke’s son.

 

“Are you a cowboy?” asks the urchin.

 

“Yep.”

 

“My daddy was a cowboy. I’m gonna be a cowboy, too!” 

 

Really?

 

The Need for Extreme Suspension of Disbelief

 

Look, I get it: It’s television. Make-believe. Fiction. Not real stuff. 

 

All narratives in TV and movies require the suspension of disbelief to some degree. But it’s to what degree that tells the tale. NWA wrestling in the 1980s was fake, and everybody knew it, but with its blue-collar/redneck sensibility, the NWA was still slightly plausible. But along comes the WWF, completely tipping the gaff with its ready-made backgrounds for each wrestler. The message: “Not only is this wrestling totally fake, we’re gonna turn the ‘sport’ into a cartoon for six-year-olds.” 

 

Justified was six seasons of great television. Let’s stipulate that it strains credulity that a Deputy U.S. Marshall in Kentucky kills someone every single week. Yeah, that’s just a little much. What made such an outlandish concept digestible, week after week? Well, actors and writers (see above.) 

 

Timothy Olyphant, Nick Searcy, Walt Goggins and others in that stellar cast distracted from the absurdity with their on-screen skills. And the writers used perfectly timed humor to highlight the stupidity of some real shit-for-brains criminals like Dewey Crowe. 

 

Either Costner is doing all the writing, or the writers’ room is staffed with room-temperature IQ dullards. Here are some of the things we’re asked to accept.

 

Remember Jimmy, the meth head-turned-saddle-bronc-rodeo guy? Well, he hooks up with a really hot barrel racer (because of course.) So, it’s only natural that when she (played by Josh Brolin’s daughter) goes for a roll in the bunkhouse hay, her similarly hot, 20-something friend decides to knock boots with 60-something Lloyd, another ranch hand. It’s totally plausible.

 

Kayce, the war-hero SEAL, at another point when he’s considering joining back up, says, “Yeah, I’ve been talking to my sergeant about it.” Hey, dullards in the writers’ room: There are no sergeants in the Navy. 

 

You think the bunkhouse romance between meth head Jimmy and the smokin’ hot barrel racer was a stretch? Hold on to your Resistol, Cowboy. I’ll see that and raise you a tale of true love between Colby – the one black dude on the show – and Teeter, a snuff-dipping, pink-haired skanky white girl. 

 

Then there’s just the sheer amount of mayhem that takes place in this corner of Montana. Multiple murders, explosions, countless acts of eco-terrorism, and corrupt law-enforcement officials everywhere you look? Big Sky Country would be crawling with FBI, and maybe a couple of infantry brigades. But no. This is just the way things are, when someone is TRYING TO TAKE JOHN DUTTON’S LAND. 

 

It’s not just disbelief you have to suspend. It’s also taste, and a chunk of your self-respect. 

 

Season Four promises to be even dumber, if this “meet the new cast members” video is any indication. 

  

An animal-rights activist (Montana is fertile ground for them, after all,) a lady with a New England Brahmin accent (who’s trying to TAKE JOHN DUTTON’S LAND,) and some new kid (“Everyone just calls me ‘boy,’” because of course they do) will doubtless combine to add all the authenticity one expects from a Costner-led cast.

 

In the Season Three finale, the people who are TRYING TO TAKE JOHN DUTTON’S LAND really ratcheted up the pressure. Beth’s office in downtown Helena is bombed. If the external shot of the explosion into the street is any indication, a pink, misty substance should be the only thing left of her. Other gunmen attack Kayce in his law enforcement office. We see him upend his desk for cover and draw his sidearm. John Dutton, having helped a lady change the tire on her minivan, gets turned into swiss cheese by a couple of dudes with MP5s. Rip frantically calls Jamie: “I can’t get anybody on the phone,” he says. “Rip, you probably shouldn’t call me anymore,” replies the sociopathic doofus. 

 

Could this be the end for John Dutton? Will the people TRYING TO TAKE HIS LAND finally TAKE HIS LAND? 

 

Tune in Sunday night on Paramount, for the craptacular Season Four premiere!

 

Yes, it’s complicated. Yes, it’s downright bad television, save the music and scenery.

 

And yes, I’ll watch Season Four with every bit of self-loathing I deserve. 

 

Damn you, “Johnny.” Damn you, Andrea von Foerster, brilliant music supervisor that you are. Without your stellar – nay, flawless – musical taste, I wouldn’t have written this misanthropic screed. 

 

And I guess part of it’s my own fault for loving Whiskey Myers, et. al. so much.

 

I feel like Charlton Heston at the end of Planet of the Apes.

 

Breaking Down Steve Earle's Discography (Pre-Woke)

By Kevin Broughton

They say Gram Parsons was the Godfather of alt country, and I believe them. Evidence abounds. If that’s the case, Steve Earle was the Michael to Parsons’ Vito. I don’t know – though I doubt it – that they ever met. If they had, I’m sure Steve would have told us. Funny thing: Neither knew they were part of a musical movement. At least Steve didn’t in 1986, when Guitar Town came out, and I was a sophomore in college and about to ship out for Army basic training. (I have Auburn University’s WEGL to thank for even knowing who he was at the time.)

It was a record that transformed my musical life. Suddenly it was okay -- cool, even --  for a kid raised on rock ‘n’ roll to dig country music. He was part of the “new traditionalist” movement that included Randy Travis and Dwight Yoakam. But there was something extra-edgy about this guy. A few years later I’d learn to play guitar, inspired by the songs on Guitar Town and Exit 0. I’d write to him in prison, after I’d wondered, pre-Internet, where the hell he’d gone.

There was always a populist, working-class ethos to his music. But it stayed mostly below the surface, never predominating his work. Well, for a while, anyway. His dad was an air traffic controller who got bounced when Ronaldus Maximus fired him and the rest of his brethren in the PATCO strike of 1981. I don’t think Steve ever got over that. Politics sprinkled his musical world for a while, but eventually covered it. Early on, he was clever and nuanced about it; later, he decided you needed to be punched in the mouth with his Che Guevara chic. Steve Earle, you see, was “woke” before “woke” was a thing…you little savage capitalists.

He had his (then) pet projects. Death penalty bad! Land mines bad! I guess we can let Steve in on the bad news – not that he doesn’t know.

Quadruple murderers can still get the needle.

American soldiers in the Second Infantry Division just south of the 38^th Parallel in Free Korea can still count on defensive land mines to help stave off Kim Jong Un’s communist hordes, at least until the cavalry can arrive.

Western Civilization can be thankful that Steve Earle failed in his woke crusades to abolish the death penalty and land mines.

There’s a new pet project, you know. You didn’t? You didn’t know Steve Earle’s a playwright? Yeah! And he doesn’t hate Trump supporters anymore. (I’m not one, so I don’t really care, but yeah.) He talked all about how he doesn’t loathe Republicans anymore. I’m sure it’s not because he wants people to SPEND THEIR CAPITALIST DOLLARS to buy records or go see his play or anything. It’s all about the West Virginia miners. Not money. Money is evil, like capitalism.

But that’s not why we’re here.

We’re here to break down the albums of Steve Earle. Well, the ones of his pre-WOKE era, anyway. And by “pre-woke,” we mean every album up to the point he became so overcome with hatred for America that he felt compelled to write an ode to the American Taliban, John Walker Lindh. Nah. We stop just before the album Jerusalem.

I say “we.”

I mean “I.”

I quit listening, Steve, when you glorified Lindh. My fellow Auburn alum, Mike Spann, was the wrong American to die that day in Balkh Province in November of 2001.  It should have been the California POS you wrote your song about.

Oh, wait. I’m getting angry and political, aren’t I? Sort of like you and all your records after 9/11? Mike Spann’s buried in Arlington. Think you’ll ever write a song about him? Here’s a picture.

Sorry. Let’s look at the Steve Earle albums before he got so angry and political, shall we?

Okay, let’s break them down…

One more thing, sorry. Hey, Steve: I’m sure your reaching out to Trump voters has nothing to do with making money for your stupid effing play that trashes the coal industry that employs millions of people, right? Because that would make you a capitalist…and a hypocrite.

Okay, I promise. I’m done.

We’ll look at them in chronological order, highlighting the great songs, then do a rating, which will be purely subjective. Sound good? Okay.

The pre-prison albums

Guitar Town, 1986

The one that started it all. The title cut is so good and attention-grabbing. It was just SO different for the time. Kathy Mattea and Randy Travis and Michael Martin Murphy were pulling country back to its roots, but there was an anti-hero vibe from this guy who’d learned his chops from Guy Clark and Townes. This sad song is the one that hooked me. “Lovers leave and friends will let you down.” I think he might have been singing about heroin.  

Exit 0, 1987

The perfect follow-up record. If you go through the whole (pre-woke) Steve Earle catalog, I challenge you to find two back-to-back albums that pair together more seamlessly. “The keeper at the gate is blind, so you better be prepared to pay.” So much unintentional foreshadowing. “The Rain Came Down” was his answer to Mellencamp’s “Scarecrow,” and it was better. “Six Days on the Road” made it onto  the Planes, Trains and Automobiles soundtrack. “Someday” is a teenage wonder-hit.

Copperhead Road, 1988

At this point, Steve and MCA knew they were headed for a breakup, even as he had his first – and only – crossover hit. He didn’t LOOK like a country singer was supposed to, and he was basically telling Nashville to pound sand. So very many great songs… “Snake Oil” is his song of rage against Reagan, and well done. Maria Mckee of Lone Justice sings with him on the most unlikely Christmas song, “Nothing But a Child.” My favorite? The WW II ode, “Johnny Come Lately,” with the help of The Pogues.

The Hard Way, 1990

Things are really starting to fall apart for him now, though no one really knew – again, pre-Internet. Crack and heroin are in control of Steve’s life right now. There are two or three decent songs on this one. “Billy Austin” is the best, but it’s a bedwetting, anti-death penalty, pro-murderer ballad.  We’re posting the other good one:

Shut Up And Die Like An Aviator (Live), 1991

If we’re to believe the storyline of “Johnny Come Lately,” we have to believe the title of this album is from a saying of Steve’s granddaddy. He’s pretty out of his gourd during this one. But this cover got me interested in the Stones’ (Keith’s, really) country fixation.

The Post-prison albums

“Post-prison,” you say?

Yeah. Steve got 11 months, 29 days for a bunch of failure-to-appear violations on crack/heroin offenses. In fact, he did a prison gig at Cold Creek Correctional Facility as part of his community service. MTV filmed it, while he was working out some new material. This was in 1996. But first there was…

Train A Comin’, 1995

A truly unplugged album, and a new beginning. It features a Beatles cover (“I’m Lookin’ Through You”), and his first recorded cover with Emmylou, “Nothin’ Without You.” We also got a taste for Steve’s appreciation for history with a couple cuts. “Tom Ames’ Prayer” is an outlaw ballad that makes mention of Arkansas Judge “Hanging” Isaac Parker. But what’s really chilling is his point-of-view tale of a Confederate soldier:

I Feel Alright, 1996

The post-prison triumph and return to form, and maybe the best pre-woke album. “The Unrepentant” is a straight rocker. “Hardcore Troubadour” is the most Steve Earle song ever, and a duet with Lucinda Williams is the unheralded gem of a great record.

El Corazon, 1997

Notable for several collaborations, and Steve’s first foray into bluegrass. Del McCoury and his band (FORESHADOWING ALERT) post up on “I Still Carry You Around.” The Fairfield Four accompany him on “Telephone Road.” Emmy makes a return on the historiography “Taneytown,” another great point-of-view song. “You’d think that they’d never seen a colored boy before.” What a line in a great murder ballad.

This next one’s so good it deserves its own

Separate Heading. Though Still Chronological, The Bluegrass Record:

The Mountain (With The Del McCoury Band), 1999

The thing about bluegrass is, you don’t just dabble in bluegrass. Yet Steve wrote a really good record in the genre. It didn’t hurt that he got a really good band to back him. Steve, being Steve, managed to offend Del not long after by using a bunch of foul language at the bluegrass festivals they played together. Still, what a bunch of keepers on this record. “Carrie Brown” was his vision of an enduring bluegrass hit. It should be.

But just to bookend things, I like the Civil War song, this time from a Yankee’s point of view. Based, incidentally, on a composite character in the Michael Shaara novel The Killer Angels.

“I am Kilrain from the 20^th Maine and I fight for Chamberlain. ‘Cause he stood right with us when the Johnnies came like a banshee on the wind.”

There will never be a better couplet written about July 2, 1863. Makes this Johnny weep. It’s that good.

“…now we’re all Americans.”

Transcendental Blues, 2000

As we wrap up our tour of the pre-woke catalog, we see a transition into what might have been: that old/new Steve Earle sound without virtue-signaling pretense. There are a handful of really good songs here. The title cut is great. “Everyone’s In Love With You” is an electric rocking/stalking tune in the tradition of “More Than I Can Do” from I Feel Alright. “The Galway Girl” is a return to a Gaelic thing we’d heard hints of on a bunch of records. “All Of My Life” is a real keeper. Sucks he had to get all preachy after this record.

Maybe he’ll come back, that Steve Earle.

Ranking Them

1. Copperhead Road

2. Guitar Town

3. I Feel Alright

4. Exit 0

5. The Mountain

6. Train A Comin’

7. Transcendental Blues

8. El Corazon

9. Shut Up and Die Like an Aviator

10. The Hard Way

The Billboard Country Top 30 (In My Perfect World)

Yeah yeah. One of you’s thinking “miRanDA laMBeRt sUcKS!” And one of you’s thinking “Where’s Jimmy Bob Reynolds and the Pork-loins (or insert actual artist you enjoy or that I too enjoy and just didn’t put on here)?” This is my perfect world, where Americana, red dirt, and even some pop country live in perfect harmony and give mainstream radio variety and depth. Even if you disagree with a lot of these songs, you have to admit it’d sure be better than the real world’s current country chart.

After All These Years On Stage, Doyle Still Can't Read The Room

by Robert Dean

When you’re an artist that people are willing to support, it’s a blessing. There are millions of musicians in the world, and a minimal number of them make an impact that spans generations, let alone a few fleeting moments. When people are lined up to snap a photo with you, to get a moment to shake your hand and tell you what your music means to them, you should only be so lucky. While all things are finite, few things are everlasting and in the case of Doyle Wolfgang Von Frankenstein, otherwise known as Doyle who plays in the Misfits, he’s missed that memo. 

Over the weekend The Liquid Conversations podcast dropped a new episode featuring Doyle and it was one cringe after another, showcasing just how out of touch the Herculean monster is with today’s music culture. 

When asked about how people consume music in today’s market, it was clear that Doyle isn’t getting a significant slice of the Misfits pie because of his view of how music is consumed with streaming services taking up the lion's share of how someone wants to hear a track or album, “The thing that sucks the most about it is that everybody steals music,” he continued, “You spend thousands and thousands of dollars to make a record and all of these scumbags are just stealing it.” 

I don’t know if Doyle understands much beyond punching at his guitar and doing crunches, because these days people want everything in one place, along with having music everywhere 24/7 is just now a part of the culture in comparison to downloading from a sketchy service like Limewire back in the early ’00s. Still, Doyle can’t exactly place his finger on how all of it works, saying, “You make nothing, it’s $9 a month [for a subscription], and you can listen to a song 10,000 times if you want.” 

Again, I’m not sure if he’s making any pennies off of when “Skulls” gets a few spins considering Danzig wrote it. 

Further not understanding how streaming platforms or really, the Internet as a whole work, adding, "They should really fucking police that shit. Shut the Internet down for a fucking day and fix it." 

My guy, this is not a good look. I get that artists are scammed when it comes to making money via streaming services and there should be some kind of collective bargaining agreement. According to Blabbermouth’s numbers, “Songs streamed on the company's ad-supported tier last year earned $0.00014123 in mechanicals per play. This means that an artist would earn $100 in mechanical royalties after 703,581 streams. This number actually decreased from $0.00022288 in December 2016. For the premium tier, Spotify paid $0.00066481 per stream. An artist would, therefore, earn just $100 after 150,419 streams.”

That ratio isn’t fair and is a poor reflection of an artist’s worth and value. Doyle also went on to defend Metallica after going after Napster back in the day, "Lars Ulrich was right when he sued fucking Napster," he said. "And everybody thought he was a dick. He didn't do it for him. He's got the fucking money. He did it for fucking jerkoffs like me."

We’ve established the music streaming world isn’t the fairest, so because of this model, artists have had to find new ways to make money. Some offer VIP experiences, signed and exclusive merch, specialized content available only through their webstores, etc. This is just the new reality. The only platform making money right now is vinyl, which only true music lovers buy. 

One thing Doyle doesn’t like is meeting his fans. It’s also clear that Doyle isn’t getting a significant payday from these multi-million dollar-earning Misfits gigs. If he’s crying about spending time with the very people who have given him a life so many musicians dream about, “And then they want more, and then you’re a dick because you’re doing a meet-and-greet for 50 fucking bucks to make up for it, which you don’t want to do. You think I want to meet all these fucking people? I don’t. When I’m done, I just want to take a shower and go to bed.” 

And if a fan thinks paying $50 to meet the adult who paints his face and plays two-chord songs is a little steep, “They can kiss my ass. You want to steal shit? If I was making motorcycles and they came and took one, would that be a crime? Why can’t we punish people for stealing songs? There should be a $10,000 fine for that.”

Apparently, this music on the Internet thing really chaps his well-toned ass. 

It’s sad someone of his caliber and level of industry respect has to punch down to the people that worship him. The only people attending a Doyle gig are Misfits die-hards who want the chance to meet a punk icon. Do you think people are dropping the coin to meet Johnny Rotten or anyone in Danzig’s band?

The majority of that room wants a photo with Doyle, and he’s robbing them of that experience thanks to his ego. Look, man you might be tired, but all of those people who’s gotten the Crimson Ghost tattooed on their bodies, or got the shit kicked out of them by jocks in middle school but kept the faith alive are now “some asshole” thanks to your inability to stand and smile while someone shells out $50 of their hard-earned cash for 10 minutes of your time. 

You’re lucky that people care and want to see you. You’re lucky you get to live amongst the lore of the Misfits and it should be celebrated, but unfortunately, you’re too busy being mad about riding in a van when your band is on the road. That’s no offense to your legacy, but by no means should the fans who come to your gigs have to suffer a subpar experience because you couldn’t manage whatever money you’ve earned while probably signing away some kind of rights over the years. 

Maybe the reason you’re not packing stadiums with your solo act is that it sucks and we’re humoring you. Does that sting? It should. You owe everything to those people sweating alongside you, and by vocalizing your dislike of the culture that effectively propped you up to this “rockstar” level, it’s bullshit. 

Whatever the case may be, I’ll be at the April Misfits show in Chicago, singing along. I know Danzig and Jerry are far from perfect, but you know what? They at least understand their legacy and the role they play among the people willing to spend their monthly car payment to share their music.

People Need To Chill Out About Vein

by Robert Dean

As a dude who’s in the twilight of his 30’s, I’ve got beef with some of the reviewers out there and how they’re approaching Vein and their record Errorzone. In some of the reviews I’ve seen online in the blogs or vlogs (6 out of 10 WTF, mate?), I gotta call out when people say Vein is trying too hard to be unique or isn’t as good as Botch or Converge, or even the original Norma Jean record. That’s straight up garbage.

Here’s the thing: these are kids in their early 20’s, they weren’t around when I was going to see Coalesce at the Fireside Bowl or watch Botch play a matinee show for gas money. They weren’t born or just barely in diapers when I was watching Converge play the “Saddest Day” in Chicago for the first time ever. I was there when those bands were in their heyday, infancy and ultimately their demise. To mention Vein in the breath of those legendary acts is a triumph because so many bands desperately try to copy that style and that moment in hardcore. And 99% of those bands either suck total ass or fail.

When Vein took the stage at Barracuda in Austin last night, it was a watershed moment for them. Despite Code Orange having to cancel, it was 100% clear the majority of the bodies who still wanted to see the show were there for Vein – the openers. They’re a band on the rise, and the hype is deserved. They’re mixing styles flawlessly and for a first record, written by a band who most of them can’t even legally buy a beer is fantastic. What did YOUR band sound like at 20? 

Cruising through their cuts off Errorzone, the crowd was excited, and it was a mix of old dudes like young kids screaming their hearts out and me, many probably attending their first hardcore show. That’s cool. There were clearly kids who weren’t “in the scene” and ready to freak out for their new favorite band. A band, who isn’t playing super radio friendly metal, but a band that’s playing off-kilter, off-timed hardcore that is a direct descendant of Dead Guy, Pig Destroyer, and Glassjaw. We should be so lucky people give a shit. 

Critics pretending that they’re all wise and critical are nothing but assholes. We should be thrilled that Errorzone is as good as it is because the potential to blow it away is written into the DNA of what Vein is. They mix a lot of genres, and the end result is powerful, emotional and absolutely is a throwback to when we got to see bands like Cave In play for ½ empty rooms because no one liked Jupiter. To think that Vein is capable of dropping a hybrid of Deftones White Pony and Dillinger Escape Plan’s Calculating Infinity isn’t a pipe dream.

As an official hardcore grey beard, I call bullshit and that we should rally around the new bands. These kids are changing hardcore and making it fun again. How many fucking Hatebreed copies do we need? Madball can barely be Madball anymore, so why do we need another guy copying Freddy? 

Let the kids play. They’re killing it. People are excited, and you know what, we need as much fierce rock and roll as we can get.  Vein is bringing it in spades.