### Attila: Rage

#### 10/03/11 || InquisitorGeneralis

A-ttil-a! A-ttil-a! A-ttil-a! A-ttil-a!

The cries from the assembled horde resonated deep within the grvm fortress. Mixed in with the incessant howling of the winds that battered the charred walls, the idiots’ cries made an eerie symphony that brought back long hidden memories from the vibrant world that used to be. Now, only emptiness and despair existed on the barren plains outside of the walls.

Emptiness and despair had brought them to him.

Deathcore and its abominations had launched an unceasing assault against true metal, destroying everything in their way with boring breakdowns and songs that all sounded exactly alike. Only the lone fortress, inhabited by the man who was once known to the internet as “Eyegee”, remained standing. Now, the scensters had brought their most fearsome horror. Attila. The “party death metal” band. There were five douchebag losers from the long ago ruined city of Atlanta. How could a place that produced Mastodon and Baroness also produce something so foul, so awful, and so fucking stupid as these bozos and their popcore candy version of death metal. When he first heard their heretical litanies off of their debut album “Rage”, he had to spend a month in the chamber of “Painkiller” just to bring his cock back to normal size.

It ends today. He would deliver judgment to them. Death to false metal.

Even though it pained him, he must know the enemy. As he strode the long hallway to the Hall ov the Metal Gods, he listened to “Jumanji”. Everything about it repulsed him; the throaty vocals, the no-skill riffs, and the talentless breakdown. Once you have heard an Attila song, you have heard them all. And they all suck. A stupid fucking song named after a stupid fucking movie.

“Jumanji”? Really? “Quorthon bless me”, he sighed to himself, “these pussies must burn. In Hell. Priest style.”

He entered the sacred hall and gazed upon the statues of those who had fallen doing battle in the name of trve metal. Mighty Dio, with his horns thrust into the sky, Evil Chuck, axe clutched in his grip and frozen in the midst of an epic solo, and Peter Steele, his grim gaze locked in stone, guarded the entrance to the sanctum of unholy relics. He fastened the sacred spiked wristbands of Kerry King around his wrist, smiling at the thought of the screaming fools outside being impaled on their sharpened tips as they slamdanced, picked up change, and did ninja kicks to the horrible sounds of “Lights out”, a song so terrible and annoying it made Rosanne Barr, long ago immolated in unholy fire, seem as easy to be around as Humphrey Bogart.

A song called “Girls don’t lie” on a metal album? Blasphemy. Heresy. Cockpuke…

He covered his face with the last remaining bit of Euronymous’s corpsepaint and strapped Gene Simmons’ silver boots on so that he could rise above the unbelievers and deliver Grave to them from above using Ola Lindgren’s guitar as his weapon and righteous vengeance. Finally, he donned Rob Halford’s leather biker hat, because being a little gay never stopped the Metal God. It won’t stop “Eyegee” either. He left the hall and walked towards the doors that led out in the wastes. They creaked open slowly and everything went white as his eyes adjusted to the blinding sun. He stepped out.

Attila have tried to mix genres, to do something new to deathcore. But hints of melody and groove will not save them. They have failed, like all others before them. Hot Topic has no place in metal. I will hear their confessions as they die.

Before him, he saw an endless host of little douche bags. Their jeans were wrapped tightly around their crooked, emaciated bodies; squeezing the life out of their underdeveloped and unused manhoods. They chanted for their leaders, and five especially ridiculous tweeners stepped forward. They smelled like foul body odor and were covered in stupid, poorly done tattoos. Only a few wore shoes. The tool with the long blonde hair spoke…

“No longer shall your dark, angry, violent death metal rule this world. You are the last of your kind, “Eyegee”. It is party metal’s time now, Attila’s time for Global Domination! Beer pong! Bros before hos! Wah wah wah, doooouuuche!”

At once, Attila broke into “Cheyenne 420”, one of the worst and most forgettable songs ever put to record. The awful half growl, half screamo, all suck vocals and derivative riffs were too much for him to bear. The invocation of Global Domination brought back long forgotten memories of Smaltmer, organic drums, and the edit button. It was too much. “Rage” took over.

“By the hefty folds of Hoglan, I swear Attila your blasphemy and unbridled douchebaggery dies here. I will not rest until all of you are dead and unable to play weak-as-fuck blast beats alongside mindblowingly terrible pop-sounding melodies. Odin, Hegg, Sandström, guide my hand to vengeance!”

With that he tore into the mass of youthful cumquats, hacking and slashing at their styled hair and tight shirts. By the thousands they died as he chanted ancient hymns from the Gospel of Iron Maiden. The slaughter lasted for hours until only Attila’s lead singer, the blonde fuckwad known as Fronz, was left alive. Eyegee stepped forward, his body covered in thousands of tiny bite marks from little, annoying mouths. His legs shredded from assaults of a hundred cocksuckers. Literally cocksuckers trying to get a piece of the goods. He knew his time was short and that he would join the Metal Fathers in the Halls of Tampahalla, where old-school death metal played for eternity.

“Your stain is gone forever from the world of metal. Your abomination of deathcore and pop is no more. The party is over. Only the grvm darkness awaits you. May the Lords K and Ahriman have mercy on your soul, for I shall have none.”

He drove Lindgren’s axe through Fronz’s head, sending pieces of brain and dandruff-filled hair across the hellish landscape. With that, he collapsed to the blood-soaked ground and gazed into the eternal blazing sun. His work was done, partycore was dead.

The world will still burn, he thought; but thankfully to the sound of Slayer, Death, Carcass, Malevolent Creation, Behemoth, Torture Div…

Eternal night.

Remember him, for he slayed the bullshit deathcore party band Attila so that you may live a full, free life without its total and complete suckness.

- Information
- Released: 2010
- Label: Artery Recordings
- Website: Attila MySpace
- Band
- Fronz: vocals
- Douche #1: guitars
- Douche #2: guitars
- Douche #3: bass
- Douche #4: drums

- Tracklist
- 01. The End
- 02. Make It Sick
- 03. The Invitation
- 04. Rage
- 05. Lights Out
- 06. Temper
- 07. Girls Don’t Lie
- 08. Strikeout
- 09. Cheyenne 420
- 10. Jumanji