[Werewolf Trilogy — Part III]

Holy shit, we’re nine days away from Hallow’s Eve, summit of the mountainous OCTOBERFEAST. This is the season of decaying matter and yet life never feels more invigorating. Wait until the sun goes down and step outside — bathe in the cool autumn air, breathe in the fragrance of crumpling leaves, and try to feel anything less than excited to be alive.

I dare you.

To round out the Werewolf Trilogy, we’re going to explore the notion that werewolves are fun-loving party-goers. While manhunters and bitch-mothers are small subsets of the community, most are just looking for a good time. Seriously. For example, this werewolf just wants to snort lines of blow. And this werewolf loves to shred.

Perhaps the best expression of this animalistic debauchery is found in Every Time I Die’s We’rewolf. Keith Buckley (genius that he is) masterfully outlines what it means to go through an evening as a wolfman.

An excerpt:

It’s a full moon, denim is tight, and flannel shirt is freaking out.

Run for your life, cover your eyes, I don’t want you to see me party this hard.

I’ve got a bone to pick with the morning sun and the first last call.

But I didn’t put my hair in a pony tail for nothing,

So if I’m going home alone I ain’t going at all.

Yea. In the wild kingdom you don’t live until your ready to die.

Which one of you sons of bitches is gonna make me feel alive?

Which one of you motherfuckers is gonna get inside my heart?

Is gonna give me a heart attack?

Look away it’s too much to bear. I’ve been bitten by the party animal.

Save yourself. Save yourself. Tell my baby that I love her so.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. I gave the world one hell of a time,

And I don’t regret a thing except for the times that I got caught giving it.

I never thought it would take. I had thick blood and cynical skin.

To where are you supposed to escape when the creature is lurking inside of you?

We all want to be werewolves, drinking beers and doing fucking headspins well past the witching hour. We want to resist the idea that our lives are run by suits and squares who only give us 2/7^ths of the week to enjoy ourselves — and only so we don’t freak the fuck out.

Unfortunately, most of us are never fortunate enough to transform into mythical human/canine hybrids. In fact, most of us feel the need to blast ourselves in the heart with the `ole figurative silver bullet before we even consider living the werewolf life.

We should all take a note from Every Time I Die — periodically taking the opportunity to throw caution to the wind in order to live a life that defies rigid structure and routine. I’m not saying to be a fucking weirdo for the sake of it, but to give yourself the chance to occasionally allow your inner animal to surface.

It’s OCTOBERFEAST – use this time to be whatever the fuck you want.

Watch Every Time I Die – We’rewolf in Music    |    View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com

[Werewolf Trilogy – Part II]

OCTOBERFEAST is in the midst of an unrelenting assault, driving home the idea that vampires need to take the backseat to werewolves. As detailed previously, werewolves are the ultimate monsters, the worst monthly visitor one could allow into the home (ok, maybe the second worst). In any case, the werewolf is the manifestation of humanity at its most primal –  the fulfillment of base desires through rockin’ violence and sex.

However, there is a caveat to be issued. While the werewolf dominates other monstrosities with ease, he can be defeated. In fact, his very undoing  may be traced to a member of his own species, a culprit whose cunning is only matched by its nefarious nature.

Of course, the creature I’m writing about is the infamous She-Wolf.

To the best of my knowledge, the She-Wolf is essentially the female equivalent of the werewolf (with a much cooler sounding name than Werewoman, Wolfwoman or even SheWereWolfMadam). However, the She-Wolf is actually more powerful than any werewolf because she possesses better attributes, such as breasts and a vagina.

See, wolfmen are just like real men in the regards that they’re fucking morons. As a result, even wolfmen are more apt to think with their penises than their brains when in the company of a procreative mate. I’ve seen it a million times — a werewolf will be on his way home from terrorizing the village and he’ll run into a She-Wolf who “just happens” to be wearing a weird outfit that shows off her buttcheeks.

“Oh, hey there Mr. Muscles!”

“Argh!?”

“Yeah you. I’m supposed to run into that house and eat the grandma. But I’m afraid that I’ll break a were-nail. Do you think you could do it for me? I mean, I hate to ask but you look so strong…”

“Woof-woof-OF COURSE!!!”

It’s disgusting, using sex appeal to get one’s way. On the other hand, I do admire the craftiness of the She-Wolf. And so does Dave Mustaine, singer/songwriter and former junkie. Mustaine dedicated a track on Megadeth’s Cryptic Writings album to lady-lycanthrope.

The 1997 She-Wolf serves as a warning:

The mother of all that is evil.
Her lips are poisonous venom.
Wicked temptress knows how to please.
The priestess roars, “Get down on your knees.”

The rite of the praying mantis.
Kiss the bones of the enchantress.
Spellbound searching through the night.
A howling man surrenders the fight.

One look in her lusting eyes,
Savage fear in you will rise.
Teeth of terror sinking in –
The bite of the she-wolf!

My desires of flesh obey me.
The lioness will enslave me.
Another heart beat than my own,
The sound of claws on cobblestone, I’m stoned.

Beware what stalks you in the night!
Beware the she-wolf and her bite!
Her mystic lips tell only lies!
Her hidden will to kill in disguise!

So there you have it — undeniable evidence that even werewolves, the most severe of OCTOBERFEAST threats, are toppled by the She-Wolf.

From Woodstock 1999 (you know, the terrible one in which shit caught on fire):

I’m sick of vampires. Absolutely fucking sick and tired of vampires. Don’t misunderstand me, I think the concept of vampires is sick and Bram Stoker’s Dracula is fucking rad. But the last year and a half has produced an absolute frenzy over Transylvania’s emigrants — Twilight and TruBlood have officially piqued public interest and a slew of imitators have followed suit. Unfortunately, most seem to be poorly executed.

As it was alluded to on Saturday, OCTOBERFEAST has chosen a different monster for this year’s festivities. THE FEAST is first going to deliver an extra-garlic pizza to Pop Culture’s house and drive a stake through his blackened heart when he opens the front door. Then the true October-beast will look to sky and scream victoriously.

Today marks the first day of OCTOBERFEAST’s Werewolf Trilogy — a musical homage to the underappreciated world of wolfmen. [Note: I am purposefully ignoring the upcoming Wolfman flick with Benicio Del Toro, the Underworld series, and many other misrepresentations. Just roll with me on this one.]

The first installment of the Werewolf Trilogy is Metallica’s Of Wolf and Man. While I may resemble one when I go shirtless, I don’t have the benefit of knowing what it is that goes through the head of a werewolf. However, James Hetfield did us all the favor of penning lyrics to address such a curiosity. An excerpt:

Off through the new day’s mist I run.
Off from the new day’s mist I have come.
I hunt –
Therefore I am.
Harvest the land,
Taking of the fallen lamb.

Off through the new day’s mist I run.
Off from the new day’s mist I have come.
We shift –
Pulsing with the earth.
Company we keep,
Roaming the land while you sleep.

Shape shift – nose to the wind.
Shape shift – feeling I’ve been.
Move swift, all senses clean.
Earth’s gift – back to the meaning of life.

Bright is the moon high in starlight.
Chill is the air cold as steel tonight.
We shift –
Call of the wild.
Fear in your eyes,
It’s later than you realized.

Don’t try to tell me that Of Wolf and Man is about some return to the primal essence of humanity, the shedding away of all the worthless constructs with which we deal on a daily basis. It isn’t. The song is about a goddamn werewolf. Told from the werewolf’s perspective.

Again, I’ve never turned into a werewolf. But listen to the beginning of this track and try to tell me this isn’t a perfect transformation theme. First the guitar comes in, then the snare drum and floor tom start pounding away, and before you know it a fucking wolfman starts talking. Seriously, close your eyes and listen — do you seriously imagine anyone other than this guy talking?

Don’t take my word for it, watch the video below — Of Wolf and Man, performed (sloppily) in 1993. Be on the lookout for  Lars’ beard and a terribly cheesy  Newsted-howl.