It was a random kind of night. A night of extremes. A night of violence. A night of the burning of stave churches. A night of mead. A night of excess. A night of wanton lust. A night of steaming buns and rice noodles. It was a Metal Night.
We heard a bunch of albums, but I can't remember most of them. The ones that stick out were from the late period of the New Wave of British Heavy Metal, like Manilla Road's Crystal Logic. Ok, these dudes are not British, they are from fucking Kansas, but we have a fucking theme to do, now don't we? There sound and soul definitely belongs to the NWOBHM. Manilla Road were one of the most criminally ignored bands in history. Highly regarded by true believers and in Europe, they never made much of a splash in the States. This was mostly due to the vocalist, whose clipped, nasally caterwaul is definitely an acquired taste. But after you get past the voice, what you have is a fine collection of tunes and tasty riffs. Lyrically, swords and sorcery abounds, complimenting the epic song structures, which tend to be expansive, though not busily so, like Maiden. This is a band that exists on its own plain of existence, taking their own sweet time to build a singular atmosphere. Not really anyone else like them, though they have influenced many power metal band.
Saga of the Gatemaster part 15.1-Darkness Descends
When the sound first filled the grey sky above the peak of
Mount Tarvo, all ten of us knew what was happening. The fine, cold snow whipped
around us like an icy mist, obscuring all detail of our surroundings. The noise
grew louder, its funeral pulse coming into focus as a titanic shadow moved
behind the icy clouds. I looked at Bloodmace and exclaimed, “It’s…” but my
brother knew already and finished my sentence for me, “Black Sabbath!” Indeed, as the air cleared enough to make out
the hulking shape it was revealed to be our father, Bloodhammer, cloaked in
vestments of denim and leather. Behind him were his royal guards, twisted
demons from the very bowels of the Earthen hell. His musicians continued to
play as he approached our party and held up his hand in a massive fist.
For a
moment there was complete science. None dared speak a word as we stared up at
the silver-bearded master who stood almost twice as tall as any of us. Looking
down, he began to speak in a commanding baritone, “So my sons, you return from my
homeland to this world you have endangered with your reckless pursuits of
forbidden knowledge. “ Turning his gaze
upon Moloch, he adds, “And you have killed one of my sentinels. Do you realize
what kind of danger you have exposed the people of this world to? I should bind
you to this post eternally and make you guard the dimensional gate.” Bloodmace and I look to the ground in shame,
but Vorthon speaks boldly before our father and his minions. “But you
cannot…your world depends on Centon just as much as the others do. Let us pass
so we may confront Lord Headron and defeat him once and for all!” Bloodhammer’s voice booms out “Silence! I have
not yet finished with you, fool. Yes,
you will fix the dimensional rupture in the time desert. Your impetuous ways
have allowed Lord Headron to gain a foothold in the physical world and now
Castle Thrashstone lies in ruins, Jenkabala has been turned into a shopping
mall and your world is being converted into a resort for intergalactic
religious pilgrims. You will be given a chance to set right your grave mistakes
but first, I have something for you.” With a slight motion of his hand, our
father sends Bloodmace and I tumbling into a vast pit. As the circle of light
from above gets smaller and smaller, I hear Bloodhammer’s evil laugh echo down
into the endless darkness.
The biggest surprise of the night was Chateaux's Chained and Desperate. This album is basic, grimy, fast and loose metal, more akin to LA glam metal than Motorhead or Maiden, but with a much tougher guitar sound than most LA pretty boys were ever ALOUD (its a pun, you see). The riffs are tinged with excitement and rhythmic ummmpff, the songs anthemic and memorable, the rhythm section loud and proud. Steve Grimmet of Grim Reaper fame caterwauls all metal god-like, his gothic overtones kicking much ass. This is simply a great heavy metal album, a great example of the second tier NWOBHM bands that Neat Records never signed.
Saga of the Gatemaster part 15.2 – Out of the Cellar
At first there was just a warm glow from somewhere just out
of my sight. I was disoriented and the prickling of my skin told me I had been
rematerialized, but where was I? As the ambient light engulfed my vision and
the golden furnishings became distinct, I remembered. Our father, a pit,
laughter. Bloodmace was seated on the bench opposite me and for a moment our
youth returned. This was the tomb of Bloodhammer, our father who had designed
the Time Desert at the dawning of the multiverse, untold ages before our birth.
Treasures of many worlds were piled against the golden walls whose surface
related the thousand forbidden truths from which sprung the infinite spiritworld.
Lost in our reverie, we didn’t hear the rustling of parchment in the corner, or
catch sight of the horned rodent darting out of the gleaming tomb. Upon my
shoulder I felt an icy grip and wheeled around, but there was nothing there.
From the ground came our father’s voice, “Over here, my sons.” Standing before
us was a large chrome rat with gnarled horns rising behind metallic ears. Its
red eyes transfixed us with an evil witch-stare. “I have come to you that
disaster may be avoided. Your exploits have caused considerable panic among the
elder council. This world must not be destroyed, the multiverse would be thrown
into chaos.” The fearsome looking rat that is our father pauses a moment to
chew on its shining fur. “Demon Scourge, get those jackets hanging on the tomb”
Quickly, I retrieve them from the lid of the jeweled sarcophagus. Bloodmace and
I don the garments, leather jackets like the ones worn on Earth. Denim vestments,
sewn everywhere with patches are slipped over the black coats. We turn to
present ourselves to our father, but he has gone. As the tomb dissolves around
us we hear a chant from beyond the days of memory. “…past the stars in fields ofancient void….”
Lastly, Jaguar's Power Games kicked our collective ass. Some have called this band Moterhead-lite, due to vocalist Paul Merrill's smooth AOR croon set to proto-speed metal tempos. This is no handicap though, as all these songs kick serious ass while providing a pleasing melodic sheen that the best classic metal bands possess. The rhythm section kicks some serious booty, as most of the song are set to an almost punk rock fast and loose speed without ever coming across as sloppy. When they slow down, they display a melodic songwriting prowess that makes you wonder why this band never got bigger than they did. But they didn't, leaving metal geeks like myself to obsess and ponder.
And I do not remember who won the night. Everybody fucking wins the night. You, dear reader, win the night. Into the night! Into the night!
Words of the Elders
And so we have followed our heroes from the Time Desert
where Thantor the Bard, stranded at Castle Thrashstone was compelled to transport
Vorthon and Hell Wraith across the dimensional wasteland to the castle of Baron
Lotar. We have been with them on their adventures across the swamps that lie
between the Gol range and Mount Tarvo, where the unfortunate Thantor met his
end at the hands of a tremendous warrior of earth and stone. Keep Trawston was
the next stop on their journey where Lady Steel and Moloch the Artist joined
them on their way to awaken Demon Scourge, Bloodmace, and the rest of the
elders. Atop Mount Tarvo this mission was accomplished and now the quest to
defeat the evil Lord Headron of Dantor has begun again. Watchers of the skies
rise and be counted! Sons and daughters
of the north, take up thy hammer! The
mighty juggernaut is alive and no weapon or spell will stop it. Rulers of
Jenkabala, beware, Bloodmace and Demon Scourge are back!
Until next week, headbangin’ hordes
Horns
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