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Show All the Variables & Other Love Stories 78 one of the walking undead-was an adorer of Rachmaninoff and had been waiting for the chance to see the legendary parchment. A band meeting had been called concerning whether Kell's attending the Rachmaninoff exhibit would represent Vagina Dentata's best interest. Nobody wanted questionable affiliations, even with the deceased, to compromise the band's image. Popsicle-the rhythm-guitarist and newest addition to Vagina Dentata-raised serious doubts about Kell's ability to revere a Russian romantic composer and remain grindcore. Feste couldn't agree more. The civility of it was unseemly to any serious grinder. After all, the point of art was to destroy. Did this Rachmaninoff character with his vodka and borscht destroy anything? As far as Popsicle was concerned, it was impossible to tell since there were no corresponding lyrics to misinterpret. Rachmaninoff certainly hadn't looked very grindcore. He had no visible tattoos or piercings, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing since too many piercings indicated a conscientious fashion sense that announced the presence of a poseur. On the other hand the photographs didn't indicate Sergei had just rolled out of bed and thrown on a t-shirt, either. He wore a suit and tie, for Christ's sake, he looked like a new-waver. Plus, Sergei had suffered from Marfan syndrome, a kind of joint dysplasia. Popsicle shuddered to think what would happen to him in a mosh pit. And no self-respecting grind-fiend played any song longer than two minutes. This business with the Vespers persisted nearly an hour. It was some kind of church music-Christian music-no less. Not very grindcore. Kell had pointed out the dense nature of Rachmaninoff's music, the mad swelling, the brutal harmonics, the counterintuitive time changes and key signatures, the leitmotifs in constant conflict with the major theme. What, argued Kell, was the aesthetic earmark |
