Pagan Altar, Acid Witch and................YOUR FUCKING DOOM!!!!!!!

Warlords of doom quell the hopeful rebellion. Bleak oppression reigns supreme. We, the conquerors of the dark lands, chortle at their prayers for a savior, which are for naught. Under these malevolent tides do we gather.....once again, we shall have..............METAL NIGHT!!!!!!

Indeed, this was a special night for bloodmace and I. After our adventure across the forbidden sands of the time desert and our grueling journey through the wasteland that lies between Castle Thrashstone and Jenkabala Palace, we have returned! The forest shakes with the chanting of druids, celebrating the return of their masters. Hollow skulls pour forth the blood of posers as toasts to our pagan gods float to the heavens on jasmine-scented winds. This was a night of celebration and solemn prayer, a chance for us to give thanks for our great victory in the forbidden lands and distribute the treasure we have plundered from sacred altars of the rival gods.  Little did we know, a storm was on its way.

From the great hall came a great din. The sound of metal clashing with metal. The wet thud of bodies falling to the stone floor. Throwing open the great oak doors, we are confronted with the bloodied corpses of some ten druids and a lone warrior, covered in steaming gore, who carries with him treasures from the past. Tolar the mystic is among us. Indeed, we had heard the stories of this fearsome warrior who uses magic from the ancient times and fights with a blade of obsidian. We had always thought he was a legend told to sleepy children, a song sung by bards at the tavern to provoke bravery from young soldiers on their first march into battle. This was no figment of our imagination though. Tolar was here, and now we had to discover what business caused him to invade our castle and slaughter our druids.

“posers” Said he. “I have come from the dimension beyond death to warn you of posers on the march, they will water down your metal and try to steal your girlfriend. I have come to pass to you a spell of destruction that will devastate their armies and lay waste their lands. It must be used by the living, and so I have come here to fortify you against these usurpers, these lovers of fake metal, and these insects who crawl across the ground and devour the bounty of your realms”  

Waving his hands, he brings our henchmen back from the realms of death and produces two vinyl slabs that glow and shimmer in the firelight. 

First up, the thick, molten riffery of Pagan Altar laid waste the sonicscape of the Westside Palace. A NWOBHM band that initially recorded an album in 1982, only to see it released not until 1998, this is a band that takes it cues from Black Sabbath. Lord's of Hypocrisy, released in 2004, is a rerecording of older, unreleased songs. There is virtually no difference in the sound quality of either album. They still sound like Witchfinder General's older, more pissed off brothers. If anything, vocalist Terry Jones' Ozzy inflected whine is even more nasally and creepy. This, my creatures, is true doom. Four minute songs might as well take hours. 10 minute songs fill all eternity. The lyrics are a straight forward depiction of man's inhumanity to man, a catalog of crimes and trepidations. This is a sweet fucking album.

Before that, we sampled a 7 inch by Reverend Bizarre and Ritual Steele. This was pretty fucking sweet, short and sweet, though it took us centuries to listen to. You enter weird time when listening to doom metal. The drugs needed to produce such heaviness channel another spiritual realm, manifesting itself in the sound waves, which is lost in anything else but analog.

A horrible sound from outside the castle walls. Black rain falls. Tolar’s spell has worked! From the gardens comes the sound of hidden assassins being relieved of their cowardly skin. Glasses of mead are raised to our new comrade and we praise the dark gods for their blessings. Our guest then sups with us our simple meal of meat and bread, the conversation turns to doom metal as it often does, and Blood mace loses control. Again, chaos reigns as the rage of bloodmace spends itself upon the sparse furnishings that surround us. Chairs and tables splinter into nothingness as the berserker frenzy of our barbarian friend explodes into an orgy of violence. Tolar, always composed, always mysterious produces from his bag a magic powder which he wastes no time in deploying on our dangerous friend. A sprinkle of the sparkling powder and the evil Bloodmace begins to float, still thrashing and striking out with his obsidian blade at the air. From nowhere, the sound of Acid Witch envelops us and Bloodmace sinks gracefully into the last remaining chair. A beatific look of pure calm crosses his face, once contorted with rage, now animated and schooling Tolar on the dirty doom metal that assails our ears from the very air that surrounds us. Truly the magic of this strange traveler has no equal in this world or the next!

Tolar asked us to turn his ass onto something, so we obliged with trippy Detroit Rock City death doomsters Acid Witch and their 2008 debut 'Witchtanic Hellucinations'. This album is a dollop of death encrusted psychedelia,  accenting the crushing riffs and demon growls with lots of flange and reverb. Acid Witch's debut is, indeed, a good fucking doom album. The riffs and guitar tone are massive, the vocals gargly and creepy, the lyrics campy without being too self conscious, and it's all punctuated by some sweet psychedelic touches here and there. This band never takes itself too seriously, and the playing is loose, but not sloppy. Heavy stuff, man. Lot's of fun. This album is fucking awesome, but not quite as otherworldly as Pagan Altar, which won the night.

And so with all things good and evil, our enchanting visit with Tolar had to end sometime. Bloodmace and I were indeed sorry to see this mystic fade into the night and wondered what we could do to repay the kindness he had done for us on this black and starless night. “Keep the flame” says the cowled  figure, receding into the darkness (or was the darkness enrobing him in it’s velvet cloak ?) I looked then to Bloodmace, and when my gaze returned, he was gone.  How did Tolar know Bloodmace’s anger could be sated with Acid Witch? How could have he known about the virtual army that was about to plunge us into a long and deadly battle? Magic is all around us, everywhere, and in everything. Every Monday night is a door and behind it awaits strange and terrible adventures. Our mission is the total domination of this realm, and together with our brothers and sisters of the metal hordes, we will cut a swath of destruction through the poser lands. Who can know our feelings? Who can look upon the dark lord and still see the alabaster sky? The roads we travel are crooked and forgotten, as all things pure and free are and we trudge through the nights of sadness and solitude to open this door. When this portal is open the other worlds become clear and we can pass from one to the other as easily as you might walk from room to another in your home, but there is danger. Enemies lurk, beasts of fang and wing dip from trees and hidden caves and, worst of all, untold numbers of shambling posers destroying the lands we love. Who can know our pride in the face of ridicule and shame? We are guardians of the vast forest! We are strangers on the threshold! IA IA Let it be known to the hills WE HAVE COME TO KICK ASS!

 

Go fuck thyself if you think I'm lazy!!! I shall feed you to my starved Komodo Dragons!!! Have a spiked pentacle spear in your guts, you knave!!!!