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Hard Jams Inc - The Beginning

How the greatest metal band in history was formed.

The Beginning: In a seedy basement in Georgia, the kind that reeked of the ghosts of 6 bi-polar dialects seminal fluids, two greasy, passionate, socially outcasted teens forged their friendship through rock and a mutual appreciation for jamming things hard. Their allegiance was born one day in the school halls of Jerkwater USA, when a lanky kid named Johnny, bearing a striking resemblance to the dude who played Paul on The Wonder Years, was getting annihilated by some Yale-chinned Neanderthals singing Nickelback songs while taking turns pummeling the overmatched teen. Their reckoning was upon them although they didnt quite know it yet, because the behemoth was striding towards them. Raised on the mean streets of Cracker-twat GA and carrying a permanent chip on his shoulder for repeatedly being called a young Ron Howard if Ron Howard had been dropped at birth and raised by wolves, a fiery, long haired red-head named Sonic saw this poor kid wearing a Geddy Lee t-shirt getting the sh*t kicked out of him and channeled the anger of 1000 ginger demons. He approached the ruckus and said to the kid: one question, what is the name of Rushs 4th album? When Johnny summoned enough strength to cackle the correct reply, Sonic exploded into action, weaving firsts of fury born from copying Neil Peart's drum fills and fueled by a combination of mescaline, Mountain Dew, and the tears of his parents, who only wanted him to be normal. With bodies flying everywhere like the cover of his favorite Slayer album, Sonic had the last bully standing firmly grasped in a full nelson. The kid screamed PLEASE NOT MY NECK! The only word the rageful ginger heard was NECK and thought thats a hell of an idea and screamed NECK! while the sap fell dead to the floor; the victim of a move Sonic once saw while ferociously masturbating to Kung-Fu movies in his mothers bedroom. Johnny got up, said something like dude, NECK, and swore his allegiance that day.
2Iron Maiden

The Formation: Sonic fancied himself a drummer, and damn it if Johnny didnt play bass. Their bottom end grooves were powerful yet raw, honed from copying Iron Maiden and Rush songs while avoiding the overgrown wharf rats in Sonics basement. After a while Sonic had to switch to bashing random household items because his mom took his drum set away while embroiled in a fury fed by Silver Wolf vodka, stale Benson and Hedges cigarettes, and the rage of an aging cougar scorned, but his mothers trailer-esque shenanigans and unappreciation for the ways of rock did not deter the metal dreamer inside of this special child. They decided their work was honed enough to go global. Their first YouTube video, a cover of Maidens 2 Minutes to Midnight with Johnny on bass and Sonic on pots and pans and vocals displayed talent and a primal intensity, but it didnt go viral right away. And as fate would have it, they were damn lucky.
Show No Mercy

Fate Intervenes: Somewhere in a dank, wet corner of England, a long haired local tough who legally changed his name to his internet posting board handle KILL (he thought the name Albert was for fags), was chatting on a few websites. After completing his last comment on the day and asking some non-metal pussy if he had even HEARD of Heathen and then calling him a fag because he could not recite the lineups for every Death album without Googling, he decided he didnt feel British enough at the moment and went out to YouTube to study Dave Murrays licks some more. Conceived backstage at a mid-era Venom concert, young KILL was born in a haze of used heroin needles, long forgotten spent rubbers, and the ghosts of black metal/hybrid Thrash riffs. At age 4 he played his first power chord. At 6 he stole his first Fender. At 13 he had listened to every Thrash album ever and saw an episode of Trailer Park boys about Rush and even started branching into Prog. At 16 he was recognized as the best guitarist in UpperUnctionShireBollocks England, but was always laughed at for playing nothing but riffs from a long dead genre and would just incoherently mumble this song is true before each exercise. No rhythm section could match the intensity and speed of his breakneck guitar leads. He was a kid without a country, a warrior without a home, a friend without a compatriot, a Goddamn shredder without mates and chaps. Without giving a toss, he accidentally pulled up the wrong version of 2 Minutes 2 Midnight. A Darwinist, KILL was blown away by the primal intensity of what at first appeared to be an underfed ape and a red-headed chimpanzee covering Maiden in a way Maiden themselves could not match. He was the first viewer. The following is a transcript of the impending YouTube comments. KILL: dude. Sonic: DUDE thanks for watching our video, my Mom said it was neck. KILL: dude, whats neck. Sonic: never mind. Dude do you like Maiden? KILL: fucking m/ yea I think their first album was the best cause Bruce is a fag compared to Paul. Sonic: Fist KILL: I also like Rush. Have you even heard of Rush? Sonic: Dude do you have a webcam. KILL: Dude, yes. (Webcams enabled). Sonic: Dude, I have 15 Rush t-shirts and the Rush pentagram tattooed on my chode. I also have 14 Slayer t-shirts and 12 Maiden shirts. KILL: dude do you thrash and prog? Sonic: dude what the fuck kind of question is that? KILL: Dude I thrash so fucking hard Sonic: dude you play guitar? KILL: Dude. I made Chuck from Death cry. m/ Sonic. What the fuck is m/ KILL: what the fuck is neck? Sonic: dude we need a guitar player KILL: dude I live in England. Sonic: dude England sucks for thrash. Move to Georgia. KILL: dude are there chicks there? Sonic: yeah, we havent scored yet but when we have a band we will. Its going to be called Hard Jams Inc KILL: alright dude m/ Sonic: Fist KILL: Hard KILL: True Sonic: Chode KILL: m/ Sonic: Delch KILL: RAM Sonic: dude get here we will listen to the Necromancer and burn incense it wont be delch. KILL: Im on the next plane.
Left hand Path

KILL arrives: After being detained for looking like a crazed 45 year old pan-handler even though his ID said he was 18 and the fact his guitar case had a picture of Immolations Close To a World Below with a massive spiked cock pained over it, Sonic and Johnny picked KILL up at the airport in a 1976 Ford Pinto. After a lot of dudes were exchanged, Sonic informed KILL he would be living in his mothers basement and they would practice, and that his mom wouldnt know because she was dating a roadie for Toxic Holocaust and they were on the road. After explaining that revival thrash sucks hard KILL agreed to the accommodations and said it sounded like a true flat. On the way home Johnny read one of his creative writing pieces to the group. It was about rainbow-assed crocodiles that ate local ministers and dressed up in their robes and would lock the doors at the church on Sunday and ravenously consume every person in the crowd while chanting Kurt Vonnegut lines. Sonic was like dude, best story ever and KILL said dude sounds like a Deicide album. The shy Johnny silently basked in the praise and plotted his next masterpiece.
Still Life

Angel, The Final Piece: From the second KILL took his flaming fender out of the spiked cock case and played the entire 1st half of Entombeds Left Hand Path in 2 minutes and 47 seconds, the collective three knew greatness was upon them. The presence of a real musician forced Sonic and Johnny to spend more times honing their chops and less time playing air instruments and pounding on things while randomly screaming. It was a match made in hell (in a good way). With an onslaught of Slayer, DRI, and Poland era Megadeth covers in the can, they were ready to book some gigs. The problem was they needed a singer. The three great minds weighed all of the qualities they wanted in a lead vocalist. Johnny suggested he be able to hit high notes like Geddy and low end growls like Benton. KILL said he should sound like a cross between the dudes from Sodom, Kreator, and Metal Church. Sonic said it would be cool if he sounded like Varg but then had an epiphany: dudes this is metal, who gives a shit about how good he can sing. Johnny said what else is there then? They all 3 had another epiphany and in unison, we need him to score chicks for us. The plan: find someone who could score. The problem: All of the good looking guys in town listened to Daughtry and Nickelback. With barely a cent to their name, discouragement in their hearts, and a dearth of female companionship among them, the power trio scraped together enough money to take the Pinto to Atlanta for an Agalloch concert. It was KILLs idea, as he thought the band needed to get more epic and explore their melodic sensibilities. What they didnt know was that fate would intervene. They strode through the doors like three cocks-of-the-walk, brandishing an unfounded arrogance and laughing at all of the fags wearing makeup. KILL and Sonic agreed this certainly wasnt real metal but it would help the band. The normally quiet Johnny got the gumption to say to a lanky face painted outcast Go burn a church, fag. He felt good about himself. Before the show started, Sonic noticed that all 7 females in the audience were draped around one guy in the crowd. He was dark haired, quasi Asian looking, and wore an Opeth jacket. This was clearly the type of guy they were looking for, and although it doesnt require overpowering handsomeness to stand out at a black/folk metal show, they knew this was it. KILL made the first move. He went up to the guy and said dude Opeth fucking shreds. The stranger introduced himself. Hi my name is Angel. I do agree that they in fact shred but I am also impressed by their melodic sensibilities and the poignancy of their neo-goth lyricism. Sonic was like yeah dude fucking Blackwater Park FIST. Angel nodded. Sonic replied dude how do you get all of these chicks? Angel replied, through strategy, cunning and talent. This doesnt happen overnight. I study the Eastern arts of self-reliance. And Im also a chef. Sonic: dude youre a chef? We eat Spaghetti-Os and steal stuff from the Waffle House dumpster because were saving money because we have the best band ever. Angel: Thats nice. The waffle house is ok as far as major southern chain restaurants go, but their lack of unprocessed ingredients and the complete dirth of range free, grass fed chickens gives me pause. KILL: Fist. Angel: what? KILL: Dude if we pay you will you cook for us and sing for us and help us score hot chicks? Angel: whats in it for me? Sonic: dude dont you get sick of having to fight off all of these chicks? Pass some to us and we will lighten your load. Also, METAL. Angel: your passion intrigues me. Do you have an appreciation for black metal and underground folk? KILL: What? (starts to say f*ck that faggy shit but Sonic shuts him up first). Sonic: dude yeah I mean we play fist metal like Maiden first and foremost but you can sing what you want dude. Johnny: awestruck, gives a seemingly random comment: yeah man, but have you even heard of BUDGIE? Angel: Did you say Budgie? Sonic: yeah we have Bandolier memorized. Angel: Im in. (commands three of his groupies to blow KILL, Sonic, and Johnny in the back). The greatest band in history is born.
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