Scoring is one of my favourite things.
My scoring system:
100: Blind Illusion's The Sane Asylum. No others. Ever.
99: Reserved for future use, but nothing will ever really make it here, either.
98: Absolute classics. See Rigor Mortis or Stone.
97: Almost absolute classics, but not quite as absolute as the absolute ones. Almost there, but, like, on the threshold.
96: Darn good! Almost as close to classic as almost absolute classics, but still kinda standing on the driveway, but closer than the mailbox, though.
95: This is reserved for some special album. Don't know which one yet. Probably a classic.
94: Very, very good. These are the worst albums I'd go down on a ship with, but only if it was like in the middle of a sea with little chance of rescue, and it was frankly easier just to drown and/or there are sharks in the waters.
93: I'd just take a life jacket and dump these, to be honest, but I'd still miss them when a Angolan freight ship would pick me up, unless a shark ate me first.
92: I'd still wrestle a bear for these, but only if it was sleepy and not too heavily into fighting at the moment.
91: Intentionally left blank for want-to-know-only reasons, and you don't really want to know.
90: The final frontier of the bear area. I might attack a brown bear, but not a male grizzly for these, if I was armed with a classic Rambo knife with the compass, and Homer Simpson's home-made bear armor. Still damn good albums, these ones.
89: The pitiful things that barely fall short of making it to the 90 Club, usually due to missing that little something. Possibly just one more riff, or maybe cowbell. Or a spectacular wail in that one track that starts with that sample with that screaming by that woman in that one flick with the fellow with the knife in the house.
88: This number can never be given as a rating, because Hitler.
87: One short of a full Hitler, which means that this rating is a bit worse than...
...86: Since 1986 was a spectacular year, with both Challenger and Chernobyl exploding, and the water-tightness of Olof Palme's skin being compromised by that one guy with the ugly moustache who died before confessing, this actually counts as three steps more than it looks like, and therefore it's like seven levels better than 87.
85: This is the end of the truly good era, and everything is downhill from here onwards. Well, sure, it's been that so far, since the numbers are getting smaller, but this like a very good demo I got for free, or an album that I bought without the woman knowing about me spending money, and it's, like, totally good but not a classic.
84: Rather good, and I recommend buying this, if you get it for less than 11 €, or 12.30 € if shipping is included. You can pay more than that if you really like the genre, but then it must be a digipak.
83: The combination of an 8 and a 3 is quite ugly to behold, so I rarely use this rating, unless the album is kinda good, but in an annoying way, in which case, it's suitable to give a pretty good rating, but one that looks butt-ugly.
82: Worth 8.50 €, and a must-buy item only if you buy it directly from the band on a gig.
81: Power metal never scores higher than this, unless it's Iron Savior.
80: About 80% of metal is worse than this, except stuff from South America and German-speaking countries, and any albums that include banjo parts or grind fused with anything but death metal, because we don't really count those. Obviously. Except, well, Somewhere Along the Highway, which has banjo, but it's used in a sensible way, and scores way higher than this.
79: These fall short of the "pretty good but not excellent" category for obvious reasons. Usually it's a case of bad songs, a bad performance, or a bad album, and getting this far or even like seven rungs less is nothing to be ashamed of. Still not, like, that good.
78: Totally one point less than 79!
77: A symmetric number, quite intriguing to look at. If the scale was from 0 to 1000, this would be like 777, and it would get much more use, because I have this one Celtic Frost T-shirt with this number on in on the funky logo with so many things sticking out of it that you could not swallow it, and it would be very uncomfortable to smuggle in your underpants, too. This is a cutoff point in the "good-ish" and "good-esque" albums, obviously.
76: This is the end of the top quarter, and while there still is good stuff below this rating, especially if it's a self-released EP or something, it's sorta the last rating that is cool to get. It's like running a marathon and finishing, but then learning that all the Kenyans, and that one double amputee finished four and a half hours before, and even the guy running in that really heavy ancient diving suit and the idiot on the pogo stick beat you, but you still finished, and only puked like seven times, and your friends have already been to showers and are all like orchid-scented and offer you a shot of Jägermeister, but you still know that while they say otherwise, they think you're a fucking clown. But it's still a good album. Kind of.
75: To quote Pahkasika again, "only mediocrity is failure". This is still not mediocre, but a good album.
74: This is like settling on the seventh most good looking girl on the class. Yeah, there are tits and stuff, but also moles, and even the tits are like eggs, either hard-boiled, which is kinda good, or fried sunny side up, which is not that cool, especially if they are like only stapled to their respective places through the upper edges and make a flapping sound without a bra. Still, Kevin had it worse, his chick had Ugly Betty braces and you could hear the local Christian radio channel if she opened her mouth.
73: Once again, an ugly number, rarely used. Adds injury to insult.
72: Reminds me of a T-72, which gives me memories from 1990 and 1991. A good album, but nothing to write home about, which is a stupid figure of speech, because none of you stupid buggers ever make the effort to write a letter to your mom.
71: The last albums worth buying, and only if found in the bargain bin for like less than 3 €, or just to support the band on a live gig if there was stage diving and/or cheap beer.
70: This is really teetering on the edge above the chasm of mediocrity: one push, and they are gone. It's quite possible, however, that they just managed to climb up from there, and further spins are required, because they might turn up to 76 once you, like, get them. but no more than three spins, or four if it's an EP, and unless it gets considerably better, don't bother.
68: One step below 69... *giggle*... Like, 8-something... *giggle*...
67: The last bastion in the descent towards the lower two thirds. From here it's still possible to climb up to the respectable ranges, but get a real producer, and kick out the lead guitarist, because he's a Yngwie-wannabe with as much talent as that one guy in that one movie that counted those matches and then they made a lot of money in the bingo. Also, you need better cover art, like a wolf eating a camel, or maybe an armored dude slaughtering the cardinals with a three-chained war flail.
66: This was the random insta-kill slot in the old Rolemaster critical tables, and therefore counts as a 71, really.
65: The traditional retirement age in the Nordics. The symbolic value is immense. Get it? Durrr...
64: "Will you still love me, will you still shag me, when I'm SIXTY-FOOOUUR!"... The correct answer is, of course, "no". Pervert. Old people are not meant for that.
63: Anything above this is more than this.
62: Not very good any more. Might be good for an occasional spin, or as trade goods if the cover art is fancy. Tell someone it's really good, and maybe you'll get The Unspoken King in trade.
61: It's starting to get painful from here. This might have something salvageable left. Like that one part in the lyrics that was about the guy dressed as glow-in-the-dark skeleton in that old house with the broken windows, and those meddling kids.
60: Not even a cowbell can save this thing. Embarrassing.
59: We are entering the Twilight Zone here. This is where the best of Uwe Boll movies come to die. The scenery is one of sort of decay, buit not devastation, because like Uwe Boll movies, this can be half-enjoyed when totally drunk, and it certainly makes no difference if you pass out for ten minutes.
58: This kind of stuff is usually only enjoyed by hipsters and Danish people, and hydrocephalics. Usually involves either Gothic crap or blast beats made with free software and sounding like a laser machine gun in a 1966 BBC series on alien invasion of Yorkshire.
57: This cannot be discussed. Sorry.
56: Anything that resembles a sandwich that is sold for fifth of the original price because it was left in the glass case overnight and has tuna in it.
55: This is the stuff that resembles the broken compass that you have when you've been out boozing all day, but you don't get a hangover, but you're not sure if it will arrive later yet, and your stomach feels kinda funky. Usually your clothes smell of cigarette smoke, and you have dog crap on the sole of you left shoe. there might be a half-eaten döner kebab in the left pocket of your trench coat, so check that immediately.
54: Cold War era. Sounds like what the old grainy archive footage films from East Germany look like. Not to be loved, except for reasons of morbid curiosity. You don't want to stay around, either.
53: Mediocre. A dry tuna casserole lunch with overcooked cabbage on the side and no spices.
52: Still mediocre. The casserole was heated in the microwave, and is barely noticeably worse than yesterday.
51: Yet more mediocrity. This is really plain, but still better than silence, so it's like a jet airliner landing somewhere so far away that it's not really offensive or disturbing, but can be safely ignored, unless it's bad speed metal and the vocalist sounds like a 1960's Tupolev.
50: The most mediocre of the mediocre things. This is the King of Mediocre Things, and wears its crown in a mediocre way.
49: Below mediocre. Obviously. Like, this was almost mediocre, and failed that too, so neener-neener-neener! You fail at failing! Lamer!
48: If these guys tried really hard and added cowbell and a cover art of a mech tearing apart a maternity ward in Oklahoma, and had a really good producer that could make Lar$ play on time with all that cutting and pasting stuff, and everybody had like a totally very good day, they could just reach mediocrity. Maybe. Probably not, though.
47: There are reports of someone once having had sex this bad. Wasn't me, though. Probably involved red beets and a cricket bat.
46: Like watching a friend of your whom you really don't like that much trying to explain someone why he threw up in her rose bushes last night, and you kinda wish you were not there, because your mom might hear about it, but you can't go away, either, because that would be cowardice, and that chick with the pigtails from the Starbucks is just walking by. Not to be enjoyed, but perhaps tolerated for a little while to look Tr00.
45: Ur mom, LOL!
44: A religious experience. Probably like an Easter mass that takes 3.5 hours and the priest has trouble pronouncing the letter "t", or maybe getting up on Christmas Day morning at 7 am just to go to church. Religious experiences SUCK, man!
43: Already a bit painful. Like that irritating thing when you swallow too much cold water at one gulp, and it feels like a huge clump going down the throat, even though it's just a liquid, and should not do that. Can anyone explain that? I mean, like, what?
42. The answer to everything. Well, no. Just a bad album. You probably have this, because your friend is in the band. The lyrics are either about Jesus, gay jokes, something stupid like dragons and flowers and stuff, or maybe gore-y stuff about a nail filing accident. Or sunburns, that would be so typical for this kind of crap.
41: A deep fried lard sandwich is better than this, as long as it's decent sunflower oil, and not that crap they use in McDonald's.
40: I'd wrestle a bear not to hear this, but only if it was heavily sedated and the danger was minimal.
39: Can't even make it above the threshold to the category that's below the threshold to the mediocre category? How lame is that? HAH! Loser!
38: If I had to choose between hearing this ten times and a really mild food poisoning, I just might pick the food poisoning, especially if the music is supposed to be industrial metal.
37: I'd wrestle a bear with only medium sedation to avoid hearing this for 24 hours in an elevator stuck between two floors and there's a flatulent person in there as well. But there must be a security fellow with a bear taser available, and it's not to the death, just to draw the first blood.
36: Like skinny-dipping in a school of really voracious man-nibbling Baltic herrings. Not to be enjoyed on any level, unless you're a sicko.
35: Feels like the little cold fountains between the toes if your sneakers get really waterlogged, and there's three miles to walk back home. Also, you have some wet sand in your underpants.
34: The worst thing you were forced to eat in grammar school was about this level. Probably a badly cooked fish with shittons of very tiny bones in it, and with potatoes that are made of starch turned into rubber. The musical equivalent of the average Ethiopian buffet lunch.
33: The lowest third starts here. This is where Volbeat comes to die, and most things trying to copy Burzum end up, because it's all unoriginal derivative crap with machine drums that sound like maracas, and probably has a synth horn section that's supposed to sound like the Battle at Helm's Deep, but ends up sounding like two retards brawling behind the groundskeeper's shack on the school yard while that dude from the fifth grade takes bets with obvious experience as a bookie.
32: Kind of a lame rating. I've never found any use for this. Just useless, signifies nothing special in a sea of processed cheese. Like, duh.
31: Getting close to the insulting ratings. Still recognizable as music, but the genre is probably already difficult to tell, unless it's like Italian power metal, or Spanish power metal, and maybe Argentinian metal in general.
30: One step down, and you're in a pool of raw sewage. Think about it. Think hard. Would it really be that bad to drive that garbage truck for the next four decades instead? Like, seriously?
29: The painful area begins here. This rating signifies being whipped with a bunch of nettles on bare skin, but getting ice on it right after.
28: Riding a bicycle through a bush of nettles wearing only speedos.
27: Falling in the bush of nettles while riding through it wearing only speedos. Your bike is now broken.
26: A good marriage.
25: Here comes the lowest quarter. Pulling a tooth is approximately here.
24: This is equivalent to drinking tea of coffee so hot that the funny-looking thing in the back of your throat gets scalded, too. Usually metalcore, or maybe something Brazilian that KEEPS TEH BALCK FLAME ALIVEEEEEE!
23: You'd wrestle your mother-in-law, dead or alive, to avoid hearing this twice. I'd wrestle a rabid beaver with oozing sores to avoid this, but not my mother-in-law.
22: Syphilis in early tertiary stages, when you start feeling funny in your head, but stil know it's funny and you haven't grown used to it. Burzum's ambient albums, except Dauði Baldrs, of course, are approximately here.
21: Adam Sandler bad. Not quite Ben Affleck yet, of course, but being branded on the left buttock with a 1822 Texan branding iron showing you're property of Cody "Gallon Hat" McClellan of Buttcreek county, and on the left buttock with a running seven digit serial number is mildly less painful than this. Assuming it does not get infected, of course; if it does, seek professional help. A very skilled bricklayer or an accredited accountant are good examples of professionals that can help you with stuff.
20: Getting really bad here. Being shot in the knee with a nail gun is around here. Examples: most reggae, The Glorious Burden, and Vomit Sodomy - Mediocre Blasphemy.
19: Painful, but not yet beyond words. Explicitly forbidden by Geneve Conventions #1 and #3, and used to torture Catholic priests and pregnant nuns in the Spanish Civil War.
18: If you're not used to metal, this makes you puke and crap your pants at the same time. A seasoned metalhead probably just bleeds a bit from the ears and might break some wind with blood in it.
17: Being drawn and quartered, with that sedation that that semi-hot French chick gave Mel Gibson before they did the naughty thing in the cell.
16: The audio equivalent of being run over by a semi after being stung 17 times by a Japanese fighting spider.
15: Can no longer be recognized as music, except by experts and the artist's friends. Gulf War veterans get flashbacks, migratory patterns of seagulls are disturbed, and Jesus starts dropping chunks of burning sulfur from the Heavens.
14: Having your genitals BBQed after they have been cleavered off by the Swedish Chef.
13: Being waterboarded and then shown nude pics of Cher. You might survive, if you're a tr00 metalhead.
12: Darwin dreamed of this in his weakest moments, and the last one of those dreams actually killed him.
11: Guantanamo 4th grade treatment, including force-feeding three pints of broken glass and then laxatives, and attaching a toilet brush to a battery drill and cleaning your ears. The latter might be a release of this colossal turd of audial torture.
10: Sawing your own leg off to get out of the room where you're being held handcuffed to a radiator, then noticing it was the wrong leg, which sometimes happens in amputations, and having to saw the other one off, too.
9: The above, but you need to walk a mile on the stumps to get help.
8: Being shaken so hard that your kidneys fall out of your butt and remain hanging on their connecting tubes, then being made to sit on a beach.
7: Having all of your fingers and toes snipped off one joint at a time by a sadistic Mongolian special forces officer with family issues, using rusty wire cutters and piano wire.
6: Being really carefully flayed so that you remain alive, then having the inside of the skin salted and reattached, and then being kicked off a Tibetan mountain monastery stairs in a non-sand papered oak barrel used to hold fermented flatfish.
5: Marginally better than Dauði Baldrs, sort of like listening to Dauði Baldrs at minimum volume with ear muffs on.
4: Being fed to a wood chipper feet first, and pausing for two hours every 2 inches. Someone reads you post-modern poetry when you wait for the treatment to continue.
3: Dauði Baldrs.
2: Being crucified upside down over a BBQ grill with your intestines hanging out and occasionally touching both your face and the grill, and being unable to die of pass out because you're so high on some amphetamine derivative.
1: The above, but with severe diarrhea after competitive eating of 12 pounds of TexMex made by Typhus Pablo in that corner store.
0: Need I really go here? Sure. Dauði Baldrs 45 rpm vinyl version played on 33.3 rpm player forever while you claw the inside of your coffin lid and the oxygen is just about to run all the time but barely doesn't. Actually, not that much worse than just hearing the album, but I had to come up with something.
That's it. Not that complex, really.
Chest wounds suck (when properly inflicted).