By Carolina de Busto
By Ben Westhoff and Sarah Purkrabek
By Steve Brennan
By Joseph Hess
By Allsion Babka
By Kelsey McClure
By RFT Music
By Christian Schaeffer
As the world outside grows increasingly dangerous, the realm of music and pop culture has grown increasingly homogenous. The whole thing has gotten to be the wrong kind of safe. Instead of banging on the door and telling the kids to turn it down or confiscating records, parents are buying and listening to music with them. "Gimme Danger" has been replaced with "Excuse Me Miss," and what passes for teenage rebellion just wants to find "Somewhere I Belong." Even great weirdo iconoclasts of the past, such as the Butthole Surfers and Ministry, have fallen off the wagon and ridden the horse straight into the sunset of mediocrity and bad records.
All hope is not yet lost. Just after being pronounced DOA, the madmen in Ministry emerged from their kaif, kick-started their hearts and traded the horse for a supercharged piece of American industrial steel called Animositisomina,an album frontloaded with bile and rage. If Animositisomina were a breakfast cereal, it would have a bright-orange star on the front of the box proclaiming, "Now With 100 Percent More Hate and a Full Daily Serving Of Aggression!" Their reborn anger is directed at everyone from political figures to bondage girls to the truth in general, and nothing is spared the shotgun blast.
These cowboys of chaos are riding into town for one night only, across the river in seedy Sauget, Illinois, at the world-infamous Pop's nightclub. They'll bring the skull-crushing riffs, electronic noise, monster amps, mayhem and chicken wire. You bring the bad attitude, Bactine and bail money. Don't, however, bring Mom. It'll be much too dangerous for her.