Seven Deadly Sins Committed Before 11:00 a.m., Devil Rejoices
I anticipate, and will appreciate, your utmost confidence, for this is something I’ve never shared with anyone: I own three—three!—Otep albums. For those of you unfamiliar with Otep, I’ll delight in your ignorance, but for those of you wagging your fingers at your monitors and laughing like hyenas, I blush in your general direction.
For the uninformed, Otep is a metal band, but not good metal, like, I don’t know, lots of new metal bands nowadays, but more pop metal, or—for chrissakes—nu metal, a term that might remind you of Limp Bizkit, or Korn, or Slipknot, and all those dudes, with names like Munky and, uh—Wes. If it does, you’re in the right place. That’s Otep. Big metal breakdown, chugga-chugga Otep. Otep, with lead singer Otep Shamaya—bleach blonde, tattoos, piercings, huge tits, tight clothes—she’s like Tori Amos meets Wendy O. Williams meets Salt-N-Pepa, and that’s what you get: white girl sings/raps/roars over nu metal in a good and scary way about all the times she’s been wronged by this world.
Here’s Otep’s take on Otep, courtesy of the band’s ultra-flashy but shitty t-shirted MySpace page:
Our music is formed from the marrow of creative intercourse. Art for art’s sake. Indeed. And just as Artaud taught: our music is a protest against the senseless constraints that reduce ‘culture’ into an inconceivable Pantheon of humdrum, ineffectual lesser gods and puppets of sterility and Puritanism. In antiquity, the Theatre was created as an outlet for all of life’s repressions and to proclaim to one and all that life’s intensity is still intact. Just as light is born from the burning flame, we must fight for the glow. But we warn you, this music, our message, and these lessons are not for every soul. Some will be devoured. Others reborn. Remember, do not slide into bed with the Devil unless you intend to fuck.
Okay, sweetheart. We feel your fierceness. I mean, did she not have you at “creative intercourse”?
And by the way, Ms. Shamaya—with the fact that I can’t stop relying on your music to get me through the last, difficult moments on a long run aside—your new record, Smash the Control Machine? Replace “Smash” with “Rage,” “the” with “Against,” “Control” with “the,” and you’ve got something that has been done already, and better, and it’s come and gone, so now it just sort of looks like you’re going in for sloppy seconds. In that top hat, no less. You will undoubtedly bring down the patriarchy, prove that God is, in fact, a fraud, liberate the persecuted, and make millions in the process. I wish you well. I mean, the snotty, revolutionary spirit of riot grrrl died in 1995 and everything, but again, all the best.
And that, my friends, is not the only sin—let’s chalk this one up to envy, because what woman do you know doesn’t want to prove God is a fraud?—I’ve committed today. The second one is gluttony, for actually having bought the new Otep record, even though I clearly have enough of this band’s music already. Little did I know how at risk my iTunes Genius recommendations were, so weakened I was by this sin. And it’s not like the message ever changes. YOU CLEARLY NEED TO RELEASE FIVE FULL-LENGTH ALBUMS AND ONE EP, WHICH IS YOUR BEST RELEASE TO DATE, BEFORE YOU CAN BRING DOWN THE SYSTEM. Listen up, ladies and gents! These are poetic words of wisdom from our friend Otep! “Perfect little spouses/in perfect little houses/it’s family fun time/let’s commit a hate crime.” Christ! I fucking hate you for the very fact that I knew you were going to rhyme “hate crime” with “fun time”!
Now, as far as sloth goes, I have to admit I thought God was a fraud way before Little Miss Top Hat Shamaya decided to tell me so.
I am also proud of the fact that I have taken this opportunity to out Otep as a total fruitbag, and doubly proud for pointedly asking why she gets to have all the cute, young things questioning their sexual identities fawning over her instead of me. Now, how’s that for greedy?
I have to admit to having problems conjuring lustful thoughts of Otep. I’ve tried this one, this one, and this one, to no avail. This pig, however, is pretty cute, even without its body. And you can’t get more “deadly sin” than bestiality. I think someone told me the same thing about sex with German women. If that is indeed the case, enthusiastically mark me down for Bild 5, Bild 11, and Bild 14, and I’ll start now on translating “Your boyfriends will never find out” into Deutsche.