Here’s one of the nice things about where I work. As I’m leaving work on Friday, I’ve got the weekend on my mind. I’m heading down through the building to reception and I pass Balbi from IT in a corridor.
“See you Steve, have a good weekend”
“Cheers Balbi, you too Bud”
“Hey before you go, what do you think of the new Fozzy single?”
“Mate I haven’t heard it. Any good?”
“Oh you should definitely check it out. I love it. I love Fozzy I think they’re a great band. I think you’d love it too.”
“That’s good enough for me Bud. I’ll check it out over the weekend”
“‘Kay have fun”
“You know I always do. You too Balbs, See you Monday.”
I get up early Saturday morning because I’m conditioned to get up early in the week. I’ve got hours on my own before the family wake up. I’m drinking huge mugs of coffee and reading the news. This is the good shit. This is what weekends are all about. I start net hopping looking for new music. I spy the Fozzy single on a promoted tile on a website.
It’s a stomping great movie monster of a track. Downtuned and punchy. The gloomy vocals in the slow bit are all Nu Metal. The choppy riffs go Papapapapa (Roach?) behind the chorus that sounds like muscle bound old school metal. I’d file this between Buckcherry and Saliva on the expensive leather trouser scale. It’ll sound great in a dive bar or at Castle Donington come summer.
The heavy themes of betrayal, guilt, inner turmoil and fighting demons are counter intuitive to the major lifts in the music. It sounds optimistic in tone. A real chest beater.
I buy a copy on the spot. I ping Balbi a message.
“You were right about Fozzy. I love it Mate”
What follows in a series of messages is a potted history of the band, the singers day job (He’s Chris Jericho the Wrestler) and a bunch or recommendations of other tracks and bands. You don’t get that working at corporate.