For
Impaled Nazarene's sake!! It's been too long. But
Metal Night soldiers on, regardless of whether we get off our
asses to write this fucking thing or not. Metal Night is eternal. It has
always happened, and
always will happen, even before our births, and even after we die and are
rotting in our graves, still conscious, and feeling the agony worms burrow into
our flesh. It was and
always shall be. Cuz we just get together and listen to music and drink. And this is what we listened to, man.
Into the Necro Lands Part 19.1 - One With Fire
The moon was bright enough to light the
wide path that led to Zlendar's house. Rygar the Seeker led us
through the jungle wordlessly and with great caution. Bloodmace and
I, deprived of our magical battle jackets since we left for Sekran,
were on high alert. In the shadows around us we could hear at least
three or four animals stalking us and my heart jumped when I saw a
flash of eyes from the trees ahead. The trail began to curve and
Rygar held up his hand. The spear he held began to glow and with a
spark, produced a flame from the tip that revealed our hunters. All
around us, large black cats had gathered. There were fifteen, perhaps
twenty vicious looking felines, hissing and croaking out their
warning. Bloodmace brandished his club, but Rygar stopped him “Easy,
barbarian. We want to get there in one piece.” The seeker took a
lanyard from around his neck and held it aloft, “Danyana Karcasta
extasius ghabin” The cats cease their hissing and before us, the
largest of their number approaches. Rygar begins speaking to their
leader an an incomprehensible garble. The beast sits on its hind
quarter for a moment and scratches its ear then emits a loud yowl,
dispersing the hunting party back into the shadows. Rygar looks back
at us, “The right persuasion.” He swings the charm up into the
air, catching it with his other hand. Continuing into the darkness, I
notice the number of cats around us has not decreased, they are
everywhere. At long last we come to a fork in the path, “This is
the way.” Says Rygar , “Hurry on brothers, the Molnaar chief has
granted us passage, but if one of them gets hungry...” We step up
the pace through the smaller fork with the fragrant brush encroaching
ever more on the path until we are at last cutting through a bramble
where there once was a path. Then, suddenly, we are in a clearing. A
garden opens out before us, flowers glowing blue in the moonlight.
Scattered around the grounds are statues of the great chiefs of the
lizard tribes in northern Jenkabala. I gasped out loud at the rush of
memories from home that flood over me. Straight ahead, an ivy covered
cabin presides over the serene landscape, windows glowing cheerfully
with yellow light. Rygar turns to us, “We have arrived.”
Yesterday, Demon Scourge and I, along with Lady Bird Blood and Rangar The Sectaurian, took Metal Night on location, and took in am underground black metal show at some hidey-hole on the inner city called The New Church.
Barghest, from Baton Rouge, LA, headlined, with Grand Rapids
Discarnate and
Dakhma opening. All three bands put in stellar, intense sets. The three piece Dakhma is a brand of atmospheric blackened crust was hypnotic and face melting. These kids inserted lots of raw passion into their set, with the drummer and vocalist in a deadlock for our souls, while the guitar player laid down layers of hateful texture. Vocalist Clair screamed her fucking head off until I though her head would explode. It did not. Great local band. Next, Discarnate roasted our flesh and sucked our souls with a solid set of old school black metal, with a crusty edge. Grand Rapidians love their crust, that's for certain. They were tight and evil, the riffs were delectable, and the singer wore an evil hood, and the red lighting evoked an atmosphere pure fucking hellocaust. Their last song inspired the first mosh pit. Barghest roared into their set and into our black hearts with their roaring brand of slightly sludgy blackened death. Metal as fuck. Several thousand blast beats later, our small, unholy coven disbanded into the night, to spread discord and bloody mayhem. Barghest ate sandwiches at Two Beards in the morning, before invading Chicago.
Into the Necro Lands Part 19.2 - Fade to Insanity
Across the neatly manicured garden we
strode to the entrance of the little cabin. Rygar raps on the heavy
door with the demon headed knocker. After a moment, the portal creaks
open. Standing before us is not the wizened crone I had expected, but
a vigorous mystic, draped in a sparkling sharn after the fashion of
Jenkabala's saurian tribe. A long smile crept across her exquisitely
scaled face as she greeted our guide warmly, “Rygar, welcome. I see
you have bought our young princes.” She nods to us, sizing my
brother and I up with inky eyes. Rygar answers, “Yes, but time is
short. Necro Baby and Bildorf the Mad are in pursuit. They were
fighting one another when we helped these two to escape, but it won't
be long before they track us here.” The mysterious Zlendar nods in
response and silently beckons us to follow with a swish of her cape.
Inside the small room, shelves are sagging under the weight of the
dusty, leather bound tomes in a hundred languages that line the
walls. Everywhere, magical objects are piled, pushed and stored in
stacks. She motions to a gilt table on one side of this enchanted
library, “Sit here,” She says, clearing jars, bottles and scrolls
from the surface before us. “I have to get some things before we
begin. Put on those cloaks.” She motions to a rack near the door
where drab, blood spattered robes are hung. Our
host disappears
through a door and we can hear her rummaging and cursing as we
nervously don the musty garments. Returning to us, she unrolls a
large map, holding down each corner with smooth, greenish stones. I
can pick out Jenkabala within the shape of Centon, but that is only a
small part of the map. The constellation of islands that spray out in
the middle of the ocean are not familiar to me though. Even further
beyond that there is a large island I have never heard of. My head
reels with this new knowledge, but it's not the most curious feature
of the cartograph. The other half, once unrolled, is a mirror of the
first image, but the power lines of each different form of magic are
represented. The lines are luminous, with strength of magic
represented by brightness, so it is clear to see the green magic of
the inland forest gets weaker, but does not disappear over the ocean,
and so it was with the many forms of esoteric energies in the world.
Each had waxing and waning power in the varying geographic areas, but
there was one bright web that stretched all over the map. Behind us,
candles flare and pungent incense curls fill the room with a bracing
scent as Zlendar readies her magic. Stepping up to the table, she
addresses us, “Please stand. We will need to join hands.” The
candles brighten in response to our contact. “Pyrna ooleck
chakakst,” She begins to chant, “Erka amanti gornah!” Over and
over, she chants words turning over and over. A goblet is passed, the
drink has a strange, metallic taste. The chant resumes and the drink
begins to take effect, twisting the words inside out and backwards.
The bright lines that cover one side of the map begin to glow with a
firey intensity until they are filling my sight. I hear the voice of
the witch, “Think of the battle vests, think back to the day you
parted. Where are they?” The images rush into my head and I feel
like my skull wil split open with the energetic force they create. I
am screaming, Bloodmace is screaming, and above the din Zlendar's
voice barks a command to Rygar, “The bag! Use it now!” Hot liquid
is pouring everywhere and darkness envelops me.
* * * * * * * * *
I came back to consciousness with a
start. Everything in the small room where our ordeal had taken place
was as though nothing had happened. I am laying on a couch looking at
the table across the room and Bloodmace laying under it. I rise to
waken him and feel something strange around my torso. Looking down I
see the greatest thing I have lain eyes upon since our ordeal began
on centon. Our battle vests. Once again our mystical vestments
protected us. Once again we had the means to defeat Necro Baby and
Bildorf the mad. Light was streaming through the windows of the ivy
covered cabin, I had a feeling today would be a good day.
The previous Metal Night was spent in the Jenkabala Dungeon, mortifying our flesh to brand new death/doom.
Paradise Lost's new album,
The Plague Within, is a fantastic return to form and was the winner of the night. This album most resembles
Draconian Times and
Icon, but with a return to death growls by vocalist
Nick Holmes, along with the Gothic tunefulness. Nothing really new, but the song writing is topnotch, the atmosphere doleful, the riffs solid and satisfying. Next,
Forgotten Tomb singed our ears with their blackened sludge fest '
Hurt Yourself And The Ones You Love'. This is easily their best since '
Songs To Leave'. Nice doomy sludge meets esoteric evil Italian style. This is a level of hate you need special training for. But rest assured, we survived with our souls intact, which is disappointing in and of itself. Great album, but did not capture our sullen hearts like
Paradise Lost. Lastly, the appropriately monikered
Crypt Sermon tried to get us right with God,
Trouble style, with their 2015 debut,
Out Of The Garden. Throw in some
Candlemass for good measure. This album was pretty ok. If you are into
The Skull era Trouble, and
Candlemass, this album will be your cup of mead. Nothing very memorable, though.
And now, a journey into the distant past, as previous Metal Nights have been
drunken debaucheries and I just can't remember all the bands we heard. But here, it is, all the shit that I can remember:
Enforcer-
From Beyond: New School old school speed metal is hot right now and Enforcer leads the vested pack. Demon Scourge likes this band more than I do. When I want to hear old speed metal, I'll just put on some Exciter. Not saying they are a bad band at all, but I just don't find this album very memorable. Into The Night was better. I think this won the night. My memory is foggy.
German thrash masters
Vendetta won our hearts when we heard their 1988 album
Brain Damage. It is excellent technical thrash, and definitely an unjustly ignored album. Think Destruction at their most nimble, toss in a little Voivod, and Coroner, and heaps and heaps of fucking thrash. The level of playing is staggeringly good. Great album. I think it won the night. We drank like Germans.
Ok, that's it. We'll try to keep up. But we are such terrible alcoholics. It's over for us. It's all over.
Words of the Elders
Behold a world of doors and mirrors, a world of tense pauses that widen out into a limitless gulf of black. How can you understand the song of space? The voice of infinity cannot be measured in beats or bushels, drachmas or drams. We have no apparatus to comprehend, and yet our ears are still pressed to the ground, waiting for the sound of distant hooves. To travel is to move, and so we do, traveling with hearts and fangs. Meat sticks, marching to the unheard beat, a lilting call from space. Icy claws grasping greedily at the edges of perception.
Until next time, bestial sorcerers,
Horns
