Any of you familiar with the genre know it's earmarks well: the singer's voice is electronically modified to sound like some demon spawn with an undulating bass. There's some guy in the background screaming anything from "kill" to complete gibberish ranging from communist rantings to advertisement jingles. And, of course, the guitar, bass, and drums have to be hyped on some impressive substances to play really fast, do some weird shit on stage, stop suddenly, then repeat the cycle.

What I propose is this: fuzzy death rock.

Now hear me out. We have band names like "Infantile Penis," "Dying Fetus," and "Amorphis." All with blood-enshrouded bits of flesh dripping off of hair and lip alike in their frenzied attempts to express their compulsive rage.

My band name would be "Trauts Ahtram," said with a thick german accent, which is actually an inversion of the name Martha Stuart. Either that or "Stinky Puppy."

The wardrobe would be your traditional irate pro-nationalist German youth of yesteryear, but with some changes: where there would be ass-tight leather pants, so white fringe would be found along the seams. Each of these pants would be specially modified to have a 'cock pocket' - a reasonably sized area to put things like stuffed animals or other floppy things, spring-loaded so as to surprise audience members in mid-pelvic thrust or at a special moment.

The guitarist would wear a "Pi" t-shirt with a black background and red lettering. He would have no hair. In fact, we'd shave the bastard on-stage during a drum solo. I think we'd use a remington electric, hot wax if he's dug into our beer again. The guitarist must look like Flea from the Red Hot Chilli Peppers during a drug binge...all the time.

The drummer would wear a fake mink stole dyed black and white like a dalmation. This is all the drummer would wear. Sweat would be collected and sold at concerts.

If we had a bass, it'd be female. I'd have to go with Catholic school girl uniform, with slits, completed by a halter top or some equivalent piece topped by nipple clamps with a red and black clip. The connecting chain would be bound in black insulating cable, leading directly to her crotch.

If someone was doing synethsizer, he/she would have to have platinum hair and a penchant for being really forceful with their equipment. Screaming at it into the mike in German or Gaelic would be a must. I'm thinking a torn European business suit for the woman and something Mad-Maxxesque for the guy, replacing the leather jacket with some London Fog artifact.

I would have on some appropriately black and scary t-shirt, preferably involving some member of the undead engaging in ritualistic acts of besiality, fornication...you know the type. Erotically exposing my stomach when I'm feeling saucy, I would reveal a sheer lace neon light blue brassiere. I can't decide if I'd fill them with water balloons, scream "fuck sex!" at some point, then pop them dramatically while chanting some ultra-feminist protest song, or if it'd just be a transexually suggestive theme with me looking demure.

Then there'd be the music. This would confuse people. I wouldn't write songs about death, I wouldn't write songs about degeneration.

I'd write songs about shit from Disney and then get into the death and degeneration.

I'd entitle one song, "I love bunnies." The chorus would be "I love bunnies," with comments about how cute, furry, cuddly, and wonderful they are. The guitarist would on occasion scream, "Kill!" or "Fuck the bunnies! Fuck them! FUCK THEM NOW!! NOW!!! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" To which I would start screaming at him about how his therapy bills have cut into my coke habit...again. We'd get into a stage fight during a bass or drum solo, one of us would win, fake blood and all, and the show would go on.

On some tour, we'd have to get a guy who looks just Jesus. He'd come out in white robes and the whole two bits while we're doing one of the end songs about pain and the misery of being booted in the face by your Nazi mother. There would be an altercation like when Jesus had busted up the den of thieves in the temple. Darkness vs. Light. Jesus would begin ranting at the band, describing how we were condemned to Hell and everyone in the audience for indulging in us.

That's where the flying midget with red skin and implanted steel spikes comes in. He'd seemingly fly from nowhere, saying Jesus had lost and all was darkness. He'd cackle madly and wave a magic wand.

There'd be smoke, followed by a quick set of licks from the guitarist as the Jesus dude changes. When he emerges from the smoke, he is dressed in a light black suit with a blood red undershirt, his dark hair cascading around him as he whips his hair and starts to wail on a guitar that has magically appeared in his hands.

Evil Jesus rips up the stage with this amazing guitar solo, while we're taken aback. Then we start singing about how the armageddon has come and that God is on a lunch break to Hell instead of us.

The crescendo would be either a 12 foot long, 3 foot high paper-mache dildo descending onto the stage and squirting out into the farther reaches of the audience as the drummer wraps up the last song...or having stuffed animals fly from our crotches approximately every minute using the cock-pocket spring mechanism

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To think, it takes teams of people weeks to come up with shit like this. Ah well, my creativity gone to amusing myself again (yeah, we're all going to hell for that one, but I figure why not upgrade yourself to 1st class on the way down?).

"From Woody's point,

To Come-by-Chance,

To good old Fairyland,

Come take a look at Gander,

The Blackhead's mighty grand,

Don't let the names deceive you,

New Foundland's mighty fine,

So spend a night in Dildo if you think you've go the time"

-Arrogant Worms, "Night on Dildo"

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