Welcome, hideous creatures, to another installment of Metal Night! Demon Scourge and myself have been busy covering up the evidence and paying off the authorities, so sorry if we have been lagging somewhat. Metal newbie Jason Lester stopped by, and we have just finished fashioning pieces of his skull into a necklace. 
Indeed, Blood Mace! Our Monday madness ended in a mess of mastication as we savored the brain of the unfortunate Zodron before we fashioned his skull into charms to ward off the unspeakable creatures that lurk hungrily in the forest outside Jenkabala palace. Our story tonight is a warning, a signpost for those of you unfortunate enough to be lost in the great west side forest when the sun disappears and the icy winds chill the very souls of weary travelers.
First, we subjected ourselves to the righteous torment of Swedish death metal band Anata. This release, 'The Infernal Depths of Hatred" was state of the art brutal death metal in 1998, and the passage of time has surely not softened its talons. It appeared at the time that death metal was given a kick in its sagging ass by ultra fast bands like Cryptopsy and Krisiun, and Anata is just as fast and brutal, but these manics had the sense and taste to retain the melodic aspects made famous by their Swedish brethren. Lyrically, the anti-Christian slant of their PhD bearing vocalist and guitar player Fredrik Scalin dominate, to the point of tedium. This is simply a solid death metal release from 1998, one of many to come out that year. Demon Scourge promised to check out more Swedish bands in the future.
Yes, Bloodmace, this was my pick of the night. Brutal, but with tons of old-school melody to keep it interesting, “Infernal Depths” was a great listen. With a fire raging in the hearth and our Mexican brandy flowing freely we were ready to cull the next conjuration from the bubbling cauldron when there was a soft rap at the door of our secret chambers. Our servant, Vodor, informed us of a lost traveler, a wandering minstrel who was found on the palace grounds. We had him brought to us. When he entered our chamber we realized that this was no mere interloper, to be impaled on the ramparts for sport. This was our old friend Zodron of the east. Though he was not familiar with our rites and customs, Zodron was invited to sit with us by the hearth. Who could have known then our night would end in bestial violence?
We corrupted the soul of Zodron with the next release, German evil doers Nargaroth's Jahreszeiten. It is an epic concept album about the seasons and the inevitable death of all life in winter. The songs are almost classically constructed, the happy sing song German folk riff of the first song building towards bleaker territories from then on. The average song length is 15 minutes. The devastating effect it will have on your life is endless.
And devastating it was for Zodron. Carried away by the Ted Nugent
of black metal, lost to his secret reveries, our friend was swept off to those
dark dimensions beyond death. Adrift on the cosmic winds he was possessed by
the spirit of our enemy, Lord Hedra of Dantor. With bloodshot eyes and a
snarling grimace, his wiry arms grasped the battle ax kept above the hearth. Out
came our razor studded blackjacks. Violence
explodes into the secret chambers once again.
We have fought in many battles together, Bloodmace and I, but
few were as violent and intoxicating as this struggle. The metallic smell of
fresh blood filled the air with an electric energy that made the battle rage ever
more fiercely. Zodron, possessed by our greatest enemy, had the strength of
ten. The ax flew like lightning , sending great showers of sparks across the darkened
room . Blackjack tears flesh, the
screaming of one who is now a stranger fills the night with fury. Flames leap. A
skull shatters beneath the heavy blow of Bloodmace’s …mace. Mist and oily
smoke. As the final cries of agony
escape from the fleshy pulp that was once Zodron of the north, we look into the
starless sky and cry out to the very gods. Why has this fate come to one we
hold dear? Why have the gods seen fit to send such evil to our very door? To soothe our tattered souls we turn to the
balm we call Ozzy.
Lastly, we rocked the fuck out with Ozzy's Speak of The Devil. This album is really beyond review. It's Ozzy doing a set of Sabbath covers in the early 80's. It was pleasant to discover that Night Ranger guitarist Brad Gillis, filling in for the recently dead Randy Rhodes, was not as much of a human fecal smear as I thought he was. His axe work gleams with pyrotechnics, turning these plodding Sab standards into righteous spigots of death. And Ozzy is in fine voice, or at least the studio overdubs are. Otherwise, he sounds plastered, as he slurs, "I luv you frrerrr bleeerrfff.. Loot's huv a riot!"
Some ask why we trod upon this cursed ground, why we must go
where others dare not. There are those who condemn the ways of metal, those who
shun its brethren. But forever strong, we look into the endless sky. Not with
fear, but hope. Hope that somewhere in this blasted heath of a universe, somewhere
among the stars, there is a place where the cosmic winds blow from lost and forbidden
dimensions. A home where the evil piping of strange sects is welcomed by
legions of maniac thrashers. In this
quest however, we encounter many dangers. Hostile spirits and jealous gods attempt
to block our path. As we have seen tonight, they will stop at nothing to keep
us tied to this grey dimension. As we ingest the last bits of our friend’s brain
and tie the last skull fragment to the amulet that protects us on our nocturnal
voyages, I reflect on our lonely path. Will our quest ever end? We stare once
again into the pulsing darkness, now alive with taunting laughter, and return
it’s scorn with a cold stare.
Revenge will be ours Hedra,
I will quaff your blood from your smashed skull!
