Grind-core: Bastard child of thrash, hardcore, and noise. Most grind-core songs clocks in at 30 seconds long and 3000 beats a minute. Grind-core gets no respect. It used to be the most extreme music on the planet, the heralded end of music. Music did not end, of course, but grind-core left it with some ugly scars. Shall we dance the indelicate steps in praise of Grind-core Night?
Saga of the Gatemaster part 8.1 - Trawston Bloody Trawston
The sky covered the Trawston plains like a great grey dome, dwarfing the strange band of travelers who trudged across it’s seemingly never ending breadth. At the front of the procession was Hell Wraith, demon scientist of the occult. His eyes fixed on the horizon, looking for signs of the butte where Keep Trawston perched and Lady Steel held court. Behind him Thantor the bard sauntered lazily behind, his eyes also reached for signs of the rocky rise, for he had been secretly planning to make his escape when the party reached their destination. He had been shanghaied into traveling with these untrustworthy renegades and with their erstwhile leader
still missing he knew the time was now. Bringing up the rear was Baron Lotar, tyrant of Vorn. His boar-headed soldiers marched emotionlessly, weapons at the ready. Ever since Vorthon theWhip of Fate, desert mystic and pupil of the great Bloodmace disappeared at the foot of Mount Tarvo, all have been uneasy. Hell Wraith, seemingly under a trance has been leading them in the direction of Keep Trawston but without the powerful wizard to hold the group together they are drifting aimlessly in a sea of tall grass. From the back of the line Baron Lotar cries out “Hai! Under the ground!” As he goes down, his henchmen hack frantically at the grass around him. Hell Wraith is already running toward them “Get him out! It’s about to form!” Indeed, as the lanky adventurer speaks his words, the giant tears itself from the dirt, throwing the mighty Lotar back to the place where Thantor the Bard stands frozen at the awesome sight of a huge humanoid skeleton made of roots and stones as it rises wrathfully above them. As this monstrosity stands fully upright, soil from the bare patch of ground where it tore free covered the beast as muscle and skin. Atop this body, an elongated head, who’s weirdly distorted face stared angrily at Lotar and his posse. On the ground the Baron has recovered and yells out to his
troops, “Shit, fan out you mother grabbers! Spear this dick in the heart!” Hell Wraith, moving slightly out of range begins his incantation as Thantor the Bard whips out his shotgun to try and slow the wakened titan who had already swiped two of Lotar’s guards to death with its gnarled root claws. In the distance, lightning lashes the land around cursed Mount Tarvo.
troops, “Shit, fan out you mother grabbers! Spear this dick in the heart!” Hell Wraith, moving slightly out of range begins his incantation as Thantor the Bard whips out his shotgun to try and slow the wakened titan who had already swiped two of Lotar’s guards to death with its gnarled root claws. In the distance, lightning lashes the land around cursed Mount Tarvo.
First up, we heard the godawful lovely noise of a one Colombian band called Herpes. This was a true find by Demon Scourge, a gold nugget at the bottom of the toilet bowl. The EP Medellin, released in 1989, truly surprised me, as I did not know that any grindcore existed outside of Britain and the US in the late 80's . It is a wonderful piece of filth, sounding much like Scum era Napalm death, but with weirder vocals, and even lower production values. It is a howl from jungle, treading the line between music and predatory grunting, precariously echoing the state of mind of a young metal head(one man band, yo) living in the murder capital of the world circa 1989.
Saga of the Gatemaster part 8.2 - From Trawston plains I bring you death
Lotar’s helm was covered with mud and sap as he dodged and struck at the mighty creature that had risen before them. Only two of his soldiers remained, spread out behind him lobbing their magic spears into the giant’s face as their leader attacks. Hell Wraith finishes intoning his spell just as he is swept into the battle as their adversary stumbles blindly in his direction. Rolling away from the smashing stride of the huge beast, he holds out his fingertips toward the advancing threat. The monster of soil, rock and root claws at him but as its arm swings out towards Hell Wraith the spell begins to work. Whatever force holds together their adversary begins to break apart. The arm
swinging in the direction of the occultist comes detached from the torso, flying past Hell Wraith into the chest of the unfortunate Thantor. The bard hits the ground with a sickening wet thud as the rest of their foe disintegrates into its component parts until all that’s left is a perfectly domed mound. Hell Wraith rushes over to the wounded Thantor but it is too late. The impact of the heavy mound of roots and compacted dirt hit his body with such force that the entire torso of his body is ripped into shreds. Gore hangs sloppily from broken bones. Lotar is making his way across the field with his remaining soldiers. As they approach the spot where Hell Wraith is looking over the mutilated body of his companion the tyrant sees an alarming sight. The mound left behind from the body of their attacker begins, slowly, to move. Lotar bounds to Wraith’s side crying out “Look brother! That dirt, it moves again!” Hell Wraith jumps aside. The mound has taken on an unwholesome, gelatinous look and quickly envelops the body of Thantor. Then it is still.
Next we heard the Dismembered Fetus/Drogheda split from 1997. These Colorado cretins bash through some sick fucking grind. Nothing special going on here, just your average 'let's fist fuck the rotting corpse' fest.
Neat song titles like 'Whore In The Dumpster' and 'Masturbation With A Crowbar'.
Our next band were the clear winners of the night. I'm not claiming that these motherfuckers are the best band or can even play their instruments proficiently. We were just laughing our asses off at their fucktarded antics. Bands like this pretty much are the 'Jackass' of music. Festering Puke's 1995 demo I Love Rape...Jerking Off in Your Mom's Face! is, at 67 songs, 28 minutes of pure shit. But playing with your poop can still be alot of fun if you are in the right mood. Most of these songs do not even approach the 30 second mark. One remarkable thing about this album, is how much it evokes the feeling of staying the night at some coked up punker's house in Denver, Colorado and having your bed stolen out from under you. It's that same fucking feeling. Amazing. Here is the entire demo in its entirety, uploaded to Youtube for posterity. Expect some racism, misogyny, misanthropy, ect. Your hipster girlfriend will not like this. She will probably break up with you if she ever found out.
The last fucking album we heard for the night was Carcass' classic Peel Sessions from 1989. Now, everyone knows that Carcass is the superior band, having invented grindcore and deathgrind and then later on melodic death metal. This little slab captures the band in peak form, embodying rot and decay with a deadly smirk and a bit of virtuosity. Horrifying horror from the bowels of terror. Absolutely the most extreme music out there circa 1989. Still holds up today. It just did not have the sense of putrid fun that suited our mood on this Metal Night.
Words of the Elders
A day of judgment has come upon our heroes, a cruel punishment from Mount Tarvo whose black peak menaces the plains beneath the keep of Lady Steel. Evil gods of old, jealous keepers of secrets untold! Your powers reach above and beneath. Thy supplicants fill the shadows and marshes, thy servants rule the air and rock! Can none challenge the power of the formless masters who sleep at the tops of mountains and at the bottom of the deepest seas? And what of Vorthon? What of Tolar and the strange dwelling where his warriors prepare their attack from outside the temporal universe? Was the viscous mound that enveloped the poor bard after his death part of Tolar’s strange network? Beware fathers and mothers, beware of the insignificant creatures you mock, for what you think is nothing might be something after all. Beware o lords of sky and deep, your children tonight are vengeful as ghosts of Saturn’s devoured children and tonight they ride!
Until next week tyrants,
Horns
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