By Jason Thornberry

People love the music of today for the feelings of excitement that it gives them. Why do you suppose the more popular rides at amusement parks are the ones where it feels as though you're about to die in your own vomit midway through?

Everyone is looking for the next thing, the next "it." We're all hooked on the feeling of astonishment.

The last time I got that rush myself was in 1990 upon initially hearing the self-titled album by The Geto Boys, which was the most lyrically extreme album I had yet heard.

Thirteen angry, sweaty, passionate songs about life in the projects of Houston, Texas-it was perfect.

In fact, the album was so radical that it received one of the very first warning labels ever, with a note by their record company stating they were opposed to censorship themselves, yet their "manufacturer and distributor, however, do not condone or endorse the content of this recording, which they find violent, sexist, racist, and indecent."

Not since Slayer's Reign in Blood (1986) had a piece of music so shook the establishment with such imagery. From the opening blunt-castration scream by bassist Tom Araya, Reign was my original full-contact musical experience.

You don't hear about that kind of musical development anymore, do you?

Now we have Marilyn Manson and Slipknot. Their version of margin stretching is to jump up in silly Halloween costumes, and scare fans that were probably busy sharpening Crayons when Araya and his friends were writing "Piece By Piece."

If you actually take the time to listen to the music of Slipknot or Manson, you'll find them riddled like Swiss cheese with plagiarisms-slash-musical tributes to David Bowie, 80's new wave, gothic rock, thrash, and death metal.

They manufacture records awash in sleek, 48-track sonic productions, which make them seem much more like cold, calculated efforts.

These are businessmen, who could care less about the art they're supposedly creating. They just wanna get paid.

Not long after experiencing Slayer I purchased Mentally Murdered, a 12" EP by Napalm Death, a minimal Crass-influenced punk band who have been around since the early 1980's.

Napalm Death created grindcore when they combined hardcore, metal, and industrial-then sped the whole thing up until it was nearly unrecognizable as music.

I first got into punk in 1985 when my friend loaned me the soundtrack to a film called The Decline of Western Civilization. I became infatuated with Black Flag, The Germs, X, and several others included on this grubby cassette.

Nowadays acne enslaved "musical rebels" play packed concert halls aping what these groups crafted in relative obscurity.

From Black Flag I segued into Suicidal Tendencies, whose first album is an absolute classic of nihilistic fury. It's funny too.

Suicidal Tendencies' introduction isn't unlike N.W.A.'s later debut in its chilling vision of the streets of Venice, Califuneral.

It was so much better than anything they did afterward (with different lineups too), that you should put down that Anti Flag cd and buy this one instead.

I had been hearing about Public Enemy quite a bit, as their Yo! Bum Rush The Show record was considered by many to be the forecast of a new beginning in rap music.

Someone played me "She Watch Channel Zero" on the school bus one morning, and it wound up changing my life.

I was blown away by the passion in the delivery of the song. By the time the chorus swung around I had the chills.

I couldn't concentrate very well in class that day.

That, to me, is what it's all about.

(C) 2002 - Jason Thornberry