An Eyehategod Probegreenspun.com : LUSENET : The New Metal : One Thread
Since I'm not a certified psychiatrist yet, I cannot explain with much lucidity the impetus behind my current obsession with all that abusive "hatecore" (what a stupid term) proliferating within the filthy inner cities of NYC and Louisiana. Which brings me to Eyehategod. I was wondering if their is any sense to be made from their cryptic cut & pasted Burroughs-esque lyrics, that the vocalist never seems to mumble or scream with any intelligibility anyway. Nonetheless, I still think it's pretty interesting in a few capacities; the blatantly honest stream of consciousness and the subject matter is unconventional to say the least. But I must say, slight enunciation would be nice. Typical exchange between two people during an Eyehategod song: "Eh? What'd he say? Awww, forgeddit".
-- Jordan K. Penney (email@example.com), September 19, 1998
Back in the early 80s, there was a band (and I can't remember the name) who played instrumentals, yet had a lyric sheet! I think the same process is at work with Eyehategod. I've read an interview with the singer who admits that he changes the words live in accordance with his (chemical?) mood. Therefore, I think it's safe to interpret the lyrics on the same level as the medical disease case study picture artwork that adorns EYG's album sleeves--ie, EYG promulgates the direct, unflinching examination of humanity's atrocities (racism, incest, rape, murder, etc.). In other words, the singer may not be saying words per se, but he sure is communicating these unpleasant truths. The Burroughs analogy is apt--both EYG and Burroughs know how to milk shock value for press and attention while advocating drug use (note, for whatever it's worth, that I personally am completely against drugs). Both, I think, are smarter than they seem. However, much like Slayer's groundbreaking Reign in Blood and the subsequent flood of bad thrash bands, "Take as Needed for Pain" has spawned a series of feeble progenies, who have mistaken EYG's visceral art with an excuse to tune down to C and play the most god-awful racket ever (see Crowbar, Soilent Green, etc.). And, EYG's latest album veers toward that tendency, unfortunately.
-- eric hahn (firstname.lastname@example.org), September 21, 1998.