Category Archives: Ban This Filth

Attila Gave Me Leprosy Through The Medium Of Sound

Being the ultra-cool, rad hipster that I am, I spend more time than is ever necessary on Reddit, resulting in me knowing far more misinformation, memes, and trivial ‘facts’ than I might otherwise have come across without the help of several million people chasing imaginary arrows. Maybe that’s why I like it. Anyway, I’ve been working my way through a thread on the /r/metal subreddit on the topic of the worst metal songs people have heard (here). There are several videos on there which are genuinely priceless, and I will cover more of them in later posts (because, like, dearth of content ideas and all that), but the one that stuck out the most for me today was the apparently serious effort by Attila, and their track ‘About That Life’.

Picture the scene. You have the song-writing ability of a fourteen year old virgin, and wish to tackle the social and cultural dimensions of a high flying hip-hop star with only your white, suburban male upbringing to go by; I mean, you’ve watched a number of Jay Z videos, so you’re practically an expert.

But you don’t like hip hop! Well, Eminem is pretty cool and Snoop Dogg talking about making women wet whilst David Guetta fucked about on his MacBook was awesome. But you’ve listened to a lot of metal, finding Hollywood Undead, Limp Bizkit, and Emmure to be outstanding sources of inspiration; they featured at the top of your friends list on MySpace. How best to combine these passions into something truly special?

Predictably, Attila was started in high school by fuckwit-extraordinaire, and ‘vocalist’, Chris Fronzak. Whilst everyone else was busy thinking that referring to all women ever as ‘the bitchez’, & every single guy that isn’t you as ‘the faggotz’, was what people who had mysteriously eluded evolution might say, Chris was furiously taking notes. Or making spaghetti shapes. Who knows. What’s important to note is that this Bach of our generation managed to combine the raw feel of emotion, the very intensity of our earthly experiences, with the absolute pinnacle of douchebaggery. This sonic cancer has somehow managed to be committed to CD; one can only presume that the sound engineers must have been wearing hazmat suits.


‘We’ve just finished the first mix, Mr Fronzak’

How to describe the music? Well, imagine if Fred Durst fell madly in love with Frankie Palmeri, they made love, and in the style of the film Junior, one of them fell pregnant. Horrified, they decide to have an abortion. Now imagine that aborted foetus, lying lifeless on a petri dish. Out of nowhere pops ‘J-Dog’ from Hollywood Undead, who promptly flips the contents of the petri dish onto a set of mixing decks and starts furiously scratching. The resulting sound is what Attila release as albums. Sod black metal, this is what evil sounds like. It’s as if they wanted to condense beer pong and its players into an aural experience.

And that doesn’t even begin to describe the lyrics, which are ‘league of their own’ magical. I’ll reel off a few and try to analyse them, to glimpse at the soul of this 21st century poet.

“I like a bad bitch
She fucks me all night
Then she counts my money while I’m on my play station”

What I think Mr Fronzak is trying to relay, is that he enjoys the company of morally reputable women who have a penchant for mathematics; like a lusty female version of Count from Sesame Street. Why? Because Mr Fronzak realised that storing one’s money in banks in this climate of financial insecurity is unwise, thus keeps his money in bill form at his parent’s house. As counting is beyond beneath him, he is content to let his lady companion do it for him, whilst he relaxes on his games console. Curious that he doesn’t reference X-Box Live and Call of Duty, but perhaps that’s merely an oversight.

“I’m a bad motherfucker not a fuckin’ role model
Fuck church, hit a bong, nigga, smash a fucking bottle”

What’s interesting here is the problem that Mr Fronzak notes, that of being taken—presumably often enough to warrant a statement about it—as a role model. What’s curious about this is that the song is littered with messages about how to live one’s life, leading one to deduce that this deeply contradictory persona is fraught with internal tensions marred by outwards aggression and frustration. Perhaps he comforts himself in the company of the African-American community whom he is presumably referencing in a, one hopes, affectionate way. By tearing at the establishment, ‘fuck church’, and promoting casual drug use, ‘hit a bong’, we get a sense of the kind of lifestyle that Mr Fronzak chooses to associate himself with; perhaps, in time, we might come to recognise this latter day Pepys for the social commentary he graces us with.

The final statement I wish to bring to your attention is probably the epitome of the piece, and I present it to you in visual form in the hopes that it might help to demystify this poignant message.


Standing in front of the house that they clearly bought and paid for with their own money, these young go-getters sum up their angst, fury, and worldly issues with the simple phrase ‘Suck My Fuck’. Whilst technically not making any sense in English, one gets the impression that this is a rallying call, a cry out against the financial insecurity they find themselves in, but not necessarily suffering from (indeed, Mr Fronzak alludes to ‘[having] diamonds but…threw them away cause [he] don’t give a fuck’). Or it might be a way of dispelling the women they find themselves surrounded by, raising a banner to a plight previously unaddressed. Observe the animation above; the women seem obsessed with gyrating around objects, first a stationary car, secondly a guitar. We might surmise from the information we are given above that these women are afflicted with a mental illness, an insatiable desire to sexualise the very world around them. As pioneers in this psychiatric field, the band play with the very structure of English itself to address the imbalance that might well be occupying these poor girl’s heads; ‘Suck my fuck’. Truly commendable.

Should you wish to hear this concoction of puberty gone horribly wrong yourself, I’ve provided the video for you below. Enjoy.

Attila— ‘How I Learned To Channel My Inability to Think’