TYPE O NEGATIVE - Bloody Kisses

It's fair to say that musicologists my age (29) came to know the strabilious beauty of Type O Negative through the radio presence of "Christian Woman," an oratorio that could have only been a hit in the early 90's.  I was too young to understand the heathen lyrics.  I merely thought the riffs were cool, and hey, the singer sounds like Lurch.  Who doesn't love Lurch?  "Black No. 1" was the other kickin' single off of 1993's Bloody Kisses, and again, my age brooked my comprehension of the canticle's meaning.  I doubt that I had even seen a goth chick in the flesh.  But that didn't matter.  Peter and the gang had caught my attention.

They were unique in 1991, and they were unique in 1993.  Doom existed, but this was a new flavor.  This was the wasabi ginger of goth-infused proto-metal.  Alterna-proto-metal?  Nu-proto?  Fuck categorizations.  One thing was certain; the members of Type O Negative had amended the formula on Slow, Deep and Hard.  I have no doubt that a percentage of stalwart fans cried SELLOUT as soon as they discovered that BK was a more mellow outing catering to sapid tastes.  Bangers "We Hate Everyone" and "Kill All the White People" brought the fury, but simpleton long-hairs may not have been ready for the sitar-guided mush of "Can't Lose You."

Hold on a second.  That was a thinly-veiled knock on metalheads, but don't misread my true colors.  I'm a motherfucking metalhead.  I fuck mothers, and I...I can't stand "Can't Lose You."  The soapy approach doesn't bother me; it's just a boring tune.  Elsewhere, I make a habit out of canonizing the sensual, cunt-thumping cover of "Summer Breeze."  It's a serious contender for Best Cover of the MTV Era (ironically, Roadrunner chose not to shoot a promo clip for the Seals & Crofts redo).  The title track is a personal favorite, and in terms of atmosphere, it's the song that would feel most comfortable on Slow, Deep and Hard.  I played it for my Creative Writing class in high school, and afterwards, my fellow students were suicidal.

BK does sport a fair bit of filler.  The good news is that it doesn't rimple the rhythm of the record.  "Fay Wray Come Out and Play" is a sample-laden sweetener that spooked me as a child.  As a matter of fact, both "Dark Side of the Womb" and "3.O.I.F." put the fear of Patrick Duffy in nine-year-old Dominic.  I didn't start going by Dom until my teens.  I went by Wally for approximately eight months, Elmer for four.  If I'm lying, I'm dying.  That's no taradiddle.  Incidentally, "Set Me on Fire" fails to set me on fire.  If my house was burning down, I'd play that number to douse the flames.

Bloody Kisses is iconic.  It's excellent, actually.  Barring two blemishes, I would have no problem presenting another five Abbaths to Type O Negative.  Robert Z'Dar says, "Don't drag me into this.  Let the goon in corpsepaint handle it.  I'm not trading shifts.  You don't pay me enough."