Fantastic! That's just what the floundering music industry needs! Another tattooed, depressed, alcoholic fucktard with a nail in his lip and a rag around his head standing in a puddle of 100 proof testosterone flailing away on a guitar and telling the world about his "pain" and espousing the joys of seppuku.
Desperate to be "unique" and "independent" he adopts every worn out, hackneyed, overused stereotype, cliché and pastiche imaginable as he feverishly flags down the "teen angst" bandwagon, hoping fervently to jump right on.
LOOOOONG the suffering "artiste" (even though he's only been shaving for a few years), he is trapped in an uncaring WORLD GONE WRONG where no one "understands" him and "bad tragedy" and "unfair stuff" abound, particularly because everyone isn't painted green, as he is.
Having never had his head chopped off by Moslem fanatics and, significantly, having never graduated from college with either history, political science, or philosophy degrees, our soulful, anguished "artiste" (i.e., "poseur") expounds upon weighty issues of the day, enlightening us with his vast social and geopolitical knowledge. This knowledge, gained through a strange, magical osmosis that involves fondling his new Seymour Duncan humbuckers and smoking narcotics, is easily profound enough to strike awe into the hearts of suicidal 14 year old hormone cases in basements across the nation. With poetic lyrics such as, "Desperate I'm choking on my apathy" or "I'm desperately choking on a gun barrel" (or something like that) Harley, who is named after a motor scooter, takes us with him down his bitter, unhappy, tattooed road of Hollywood failure and despair, all the while wondering why people who have painted themselves purple and put ten penny nails in their lips are so "alone".
Indeed, our "soulful", tormented boy is as "unique" as any of a million other drunken, brainwashed shitbags who were raised by MTV instead of parents.
If he thinks he's "tormented" now, wait until he's 40, bald, and working at McDonalds. He'll be "choking" on something then, but it won't be "apathy", it will be what little pride he has left (if he hasn't REALLY offed his useless ass by then).
Oh, and I enjoy heavy metal music, by the way. That is, when it is MUSIC. Tell the immature, suicidal copycat to grow the fuck up and learn a few Wes Montgomery licks to compliment his lame-ass style. Jazz oriented open chord voicings may not be "suicidal" enough, but learning them adds depth to one's style and improves left-hand dexterity.