Wordless Wednesday – 8/2/23
The Writing Life
Labyrinth of Media
As alluded in yesterday’s post, at the height of my time writing in the music industry, I kept more than half the freebie promotional books, CDs, vinyl, DVDs and Blu Rays I was being sent for review and interview consideration. This added to a meticulously curated collection of music from nearly all genres, not just metal, punk and Goth, which I extensively covered in my time writing in the scene.
Eventually, people started seeing me pull comparisons from other genres and I was being tried with submissions outside of what I could pitch for assignment. In fact, one of the cooler moments in my career was the time a black metal artist reached out to me and thanked me for being the only reviewer, much listener, to pull The Cure from his music. For me, the dank textures I heard from The Cure’s Pornography and Seventeen Seconds was evident and richly used inside the loud and brackish tones said artist employed.
At one point in my career, I was writing for 13 simultaneous venues, print and online, including two monthly columns. Nowadays unheard of, since print media is hanging by a splintering lifeline and even the most seasoned writers are now featured at one to a small handful of gigs at a time.
My pulling hints of country, classic rock, Afrobeat, hip hop, folk, electro-trance, Celtic and ambient into my reviews was because of the constant hunger for music in my life and all the expendable cash I could turn around to try new music from as many diverse walks of life. I sought all the music I could which had any sense of integrity since I felt like it made me a better writer. As we were almost always tight in the budget back then, I would usually take my freelancing money and reinvest it into music purchases. That, plus expertly maximizing all the record store gift certificates I got. I always waited for key sale days where I got a freebie of equal value for each unit bought, this before it was called a BOGO.
It meant to the industry at-large I could field other genres, though it mostly culminated in a nice writing gig for Music Dish where I could take on DVD releases by Joni Mitchell, Barry White and non-heavy music. Even Blabbermouth gave me latitude here and there to drop an off-their-radar retrospective Blu Ray review of, say, The Jam, Bad Brains or The Doors.
My ex-wife was a good sport about it all, but even she had her moments of teeth gnashing when our mailbox was stuffed to the metallic gills with hard copy promos most days. Our bills would end up crushed or sometimes lost altogether from the swamping of promos. The stacks of new material upon my desk were something to behold back then. Nearly as much as the shelving units I erected to store all of this media when I had the basement of a rancher as my office.
Considering I’ve always worked a full-time job, I devoted a large part of my downtime toward building my second career in journalism. No matter how things turned out between my ex and I, I will always give her due credit for giving me the space to chase my dream in the music business. At the height of my time writing in the industry, I was covering 10-12 shows a month with on-site interviews and show photography. That alone was time-consuming, especially the transcriptions and copy submissions. Add all the reviews and time invested listening 2-3 times to a new album release each, sitting in front of the tube with a pad and pen for videos which ran, on average, 2 to 3 hours each, and read new book releases… You get the picture. It was exhilarating, but it was also goddamn exhausting. I slept very little back then. I always talk about going to a show after my day job, getting home, getting the photos and interview turned in by 4:00 a.m., then back up again at 7:30 a.m. to go back to work. I was living the dream, though.
Later in my music career, I ended up taking all the work I could and socking it into our account when times grew tough. I turned it into a second job for income we had to have, and once we adopted our son, it became even more of a challenge to squeeze all of that work for money we needed, since his welfare came first and foremost.
My labyrinth of media was at the rancher, and I do miss it because of the beautiful neighbors we had, plus my monster-wide office which even had my old drum set and congas to spank in-between assignments. Those were some amazing years of my life and before we were forced to move out by the landlord who was selling the place, I had nine total shelves loaded with books, CD, vinyl and videos. I wish I’d taken more photos than these, but you literally walked into a self-made corridor of media which intimidated most of our guests but had a few wanting to stay there the entire time during a visit and pick my brain for industry stories.
When we had to relocate, we had to downsize in space. I ended up giving trash bags full of media to my friends that wouldn’t fit, especially in a well-stuffed storage locker. It became a matter of treating things less as my trophy room and more for practicality. Moving 26 boxes just for my media (my comic book collection is another beast altogether) became more of a taxing chore than a love of it. With each subsequent move, I pared down the collection even more, feeling my heart pierce each time.
I still had a wonderful collection before I separated from my ex, but I began to feel embarrassed when it took nearly 45 minutes alone to pull my media out of the basement even then. Once TJ and I got together and I saw her cringe at what I still had of media, I was initially saddened. Once we got serious together and decided marriage was going to be a thing, though, I knew we could only bring so much of our excess into a unified home with my son.
The rest, you all know. My music, the best of the best, is still with me, just more portable. The most meaningful CDs I refuse to part with, like my film scores and soundtracks, my Stax Records and 1950s American Heartbeat rock ‘n roll box sets, my Prince, Iron Maiden and Voivod catalogs and CDs that were gifted by bands I still consider friends or signed by artists I interviewed, like Lee Aaron and Geoff Tate, formerly of Queensryche… TJ understands that much.
She calls me overly sentimental and perhaps she’s right, but I bled for the industry and I’m not ashamed of all that I hoarded, even if it meant more to me and my colleagues than most people who came by to see the labyrinth in all its gaudy glory. My life has turned exponentially for the better and I see an even greater future ahead, but damn… Just damn.
–Ray Van Horn, Jr.
When My Comic Book Miniseries “Metalheads” Was Nearly a THING
I’ve had a love affair with comic books for most of my life, starting the hobby back in 1978. I even worked comics retail for a short time in the early 1990s. The women in my life have thankfully all been understanding of my need for comic books and even more so, my thirst to WRITE for comics.
Seven years ago, I came up with an idea while I was still writing in the music industry to collide my experiences as a metal and punk journalist with horror. The proposed four issue satire miniseries, Metalheads, reflected what I was seeing and feeling as I got older in the scene. I strove for sarcasm, dark humor and a b-slap of gory horror fun.
Joining my crusade was my dear friend from Kiel, Germany, Dominic Valecillo, who fleshed out my vision to such delight I felt like we were on to something through his imprint, Stealth Comics. We even struck up a small deal of promotional sharing with a wacky “nitro sexy” band calling themselves Granny 4 Barrel, who appears in a panel of Metalheads # 1.
Dominic took the debut issue of Metalheads and sold out his print run at the Germany Comic Con. We were fortunate to have a rep from Marvel check it out and offer glowing remarks on the story. Sadly, the money I had allocated to get my own print run domestically in the United States was needed for survival during a turbulent time. Dominic, a rising star in Germany, found himself in-demand, swamped with commissions and it’s been a great joy watching this brother evolve in his art.
This impromptu centerfold Dom came up with still cracks me up today…
I still have the dream of writing in comics and have been working on a new script for an upcoming project to pitch one of the indie presses. I have been rolling an oddball mash of John Wick 3, Tenebrae, Cobra Kai, Schindler’s List and Star Trek film scores, none of which have a thing to do with this new project, but hey, whatever keeps the dream in motion…
–Ray Van Horn, Jr.
Coming of Rage, by Ray Van Horn, Jr. – Snag a Copy Today!
“Buzzkill, how does it happen when your scene no longer belongs to you? What defined you at a youthful age gets killed off then comes back two decades later when you can tell the greenhorns all they’ve missed. Unless you’re onstage where senior bands (now called “heritage acts”) receive their due for a second go-round, you no longer matter. You’re the weirdo, the assclown, even more so than when you practiced it all first.”
–excerpt from “Chasing the Moon,” Coming of Rage, by Ray Van Horn, Jr.
Hey, hey, just a little bump before the release of my new novel Revolution Calling to remind you my first short story collection, the Pushcart Prize nominated Coming of Rage is available through any of these outlets.
As always, much love and thanks for your support!
Paperback links:
Amazon:
Also available at Lulu and Barnes and Noble:
https://www.lulu.com/…/paperback/product-ny256n.html…
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/coming-of-rage-ray-van-horn-jr/1141914814
E-book links:
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/coming-of-rage-ray-van-horn-jr/1141909254
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/coming-of-rage
https://www.lulu.com/shop/ray-van-horn-jr/coming-of-rage/ebook/product-87wkjm.html?page=1&pageSize=4
The Site of My Upcoming Novel, “Revolution Calling,” the Former North Carroll High School
My forthcoming novel, Revolution Calling, to be released soon by Raw Earth Ink, is set in the year 1988, the year I graduated high school. Funny enough, we are about to celebrate our class’s 35th year reunion next month.
My alma mater is North Carroll High School, doubled as Merriweather High in Revolution Calling. Back then, you could call North Carroll High a rural-suburban school as its homebased town Hampstead was in the midst of gradual, resistant industrialization. It’s one of the themes I explore in the story.
North Carroll High School officially closed its doors in 2015 due to a population burst prompting the opening of a new school in the neighboring town of Manchester. Beyond that, however, a decline in school-aged children ensued as much of my generation and that behind me began to move from the area. Frankly put, North Carroll was left to flounder in the shadow of upgrade one burg over. Considering Manchester Valley High won bragging rights by its newness, North Carroll was repurposed in part for the local police. In recent times, the Coppermine fitness company bought into the building and its outdoor facilities, keeping the premises operational for sports and theater inside the former school’s auditorium. This, still sharing the back end of the school with the Hampstead police department.
Having spent nearly two years writing Revolution Calling after first coming up with the concept of an Outsiders type of story for Generation X heavy-metal-style while in the music industry, I took a walk around the campus of my old school. The first thing I thought of was to look at myself now versus the longhair grit who used to prowl these halls from 1984 to 1988. I know my peers from North Carroll, many of whom I’ve stayed friends with and have routine dinner and drink dates with, probably laugh even harder at the sight of khaki cargo shorts, a peach tee and hair shaved to two inches.
I took a lot of pictures of scenes which appear in Revolution Calling and I’m happier than hell they match what I wrote. At least, to my mind’s eye and hopefully those who went to North Carroll High with me. For everyone else, the fictional Merriweather High and their cougar school mascot is a thinly-veiled disguise for North Carroll Panthers. As we all say amongst our North Carroll tribe across the decades before its closure, we are Panther Strong.
So have a look at these pictures before Revolution Calling’s release and I hope it’ll help put some context to the story. What you see in these pictures is where my characters breathe. The two protagonists of the story, Rob and Jason, are me divided into two leads. I didn’t rely upon actual friendships and relationships from my high school days. Only a handful of characters are based on real people. The story is built around my life back then, collecting the hardest moments of my teenaged life and compressing the events into a two-month narrative for the story. Most of Revolution Calling happened to me, until it hits the violent side in the story, which evolves into fiction.
I laughed the hardest in my revisit tour at the “Senior patio” I use in the story, where students of the day were allowed to smoke outdoors, if you can get your head around that.
Finally, I ran a gazillion miles around North Carroll’s track after graduation and I was pleased to see it felt and looks exactly the same. The track has a pivotal moment in the story for Jason’s evolution, as it doubled my own struggle to belong as a metalhead infiltrating the jock life by taking three years of Weightlifting class and becoming accepted by those guys in time. Same as with the rest my classmates. It had become a rare thing where a headbanger had found social acceptance amongst so many different walks of life in the high school social strata. My precise thesis for writing Revolution Calling.
Sometimes you really can go home…
–Photos by Ray Van Horn, Jr.
When One Thing Begets Another: An Article I Wrote for Metal Maniacs Magazine Plants the Seeds For My New Novel, Revolution Calling
Back around 2005 and ’06, I was writing for Metal Maniacs magazine, one of my all-time favorite gigs in my career.
I’d earned myself a freelancing spot with Metal Maniacs battling Metallica’s Master of Puppets vs. Megadeth’s Peace Sells…But Who’s Buying? two critical masterpieces of the genre. I had the balls to declare Megadeth the winner by an edge.
I interviewed many artists, got to cover horror including my much-loved assignment out to Blairstown, NJ to tour the film locations of the original Friday the 13th, followed by an interview with Mama Voorhees herself, the ultra-classy Betsy Palmer.
I had a portion of my interview with the late Kevin DuBrow of Quiet Riot months before he passed run at Metal Maniacs after QR drummer Frankie Banali and I ran through the footage.
Then there was this piece Metal Maniacs allowed me to pen, “Reflections of an Old School Metalhead,” planting the seeds for my bucket list novel project seeing the light of day this year, Revolution Calling.
Liz Ciavarella-Brenner and Dave Brenner, thank you for a hell of a ride back then. I won’t ever forget us closing down that Irish pub outside of Times Square until 5:30 a.m. and hanging with Team Ireland soccer team in that long night of debauchery. Love you guys, always…
–Ray Van Horn, Jr.
Coming Soon: My New Novel, “Revolution Calling,” from Raw Earth Ink
I am thrilled to announce I have been offered publication of my novel, Revolution Calling, through Raw Earth Ink.
This is a semi-autobiography drawing from my teen years in high school. I call this an Outsiders for Gen X with a heavy metal twist. A sometimes brutal retrospective comeuppance story, about half of it is true while carrying a fictional thriller bend.
Above is a picture from 2003, myself having dinner in Washington, DC with Geoff Tate, former vocalist of Queensryche while he was still in the band. I had only just started writing in the music industry. Geoff had been generous with his time as well as signing a few albums for me and taking this shot I’ll always treasure. A truly epic moment in the beginning phase of my time in the industry. Revolution Calling is lovingly titled after Queensyrche’s gem of an anthem from their masterpiece album, Operation Mindcrime.
I thank you, Tara Caribou, for taking me on again after the successful launch of my short story collection, Coming of Rage.
Details about Revolution Calling to follow…
The Espresso Machine Hates Me, a Poem From My Open Mike Days
A road lesser traveled these days if there ever was one, the open mic poetry venue. A rarity outside of Soho, Manhattan, some of my favorite times as a writer was becoming a part of local poetry series hosted by area coffeehouses in Frederick and Westminster, Maryland and other surrounding burgs. I was blessed to be a featured reader of a handful of times, but the biggest kick was making such beautiful friends in art. Friday nights especially closing down a bookstore/coffee shop with our words and music, then closing down a local brewery afterwards every week…creating art on the spot with a rowdy company of weekend alcoholics…the brewery nearly threw us out a few times, but they welcomed us back the following week anyway. Some of the finest times I’ve ever known.
Anyone reading in a coffeehouse might be able to relate to one of my heavy hitter pieces circa 2008…
The Espresso Machine Hates Me
Ray Van Horn, Jr.
there’s a reason I talk fast a lot
and it’s not just because my kid carries on during his nite nite story
sadly, I’m asked to repeat myself when fielding business calls
my saving grace is brokers talk faster than me
it’s that goddamn espresso machine, man
the one that goes
Fssssssssssssssh
every time it’s my turn on the mike
like a balcony critic on stage level
Fssssssssssssssh
once I open my mouth
it used to be funny
we’ve all paid our dues
that’s the life of a coffeehouse poet
but I’m starting to take it personal
Fsssssssssssssssh
I nod to my audience,
blather an intro from the hip,
then the minute I start a stanza
Fsssssssssssssssh
yes, it feeds my habit
and I’m not referring to a caramel macchiato kick
though I’ve been known to scoop and sling
when the whipped cream’s too thick
so I can score a direct hit of the liquid speed
without the goddamn espresso machine
I have nowhere to read my toils
and therein lies the rub
like a don knows faithful tribute keeps his neighborhood in line
or a greedy club owner puts bands on for a fee
the inconsiderate, goddamn espresso machine
has me by the balls
pay to play
Fssssssssssssssssh
thank you, goddamn espresso machine
for giving me a public forum to hijack ears each week
hiss at my work all you like
for you and I will suffer in-arms come June
when iced coffee becomes the rage
Best Writing Meme I’ve Seen in Ages…
Dismantled Office…On to the New…
Back from the gym, The Mission’s Goth rock classic, God’s Own Medicine chiming in my ears, a pocketful of minutes all to myself in story revision mode. Winding down to the move inside a dismantled office, looking forward to sharing one in our next digs. It helps when you’re marrying a fellow writer. Kitties meowing outside the closed door. C’mon, guys, I love you but I’m on a mission of my own.
Roads Lesser Traveled 