From the uber blackened heights of Jenkabala Palace to the dank dungeons of Castle Thrashstone, the evil thrones rise from the fiery devil pits to slay the quivering posers and enslave the pathetic weak. Once again, Metal Night reigns over your soul!
This week...........Bulldozer!!!! Bulldozer are a semi-obscure thrash/proto black metal band from Italy. Their sound was very influential on later black metal bands. Their first album, The Day of Wrath, is Italy's answer to Venom and Bathory. Not as over the top and tongue in cheek cheesy as Venom, and without the mysterious aura of Bathory, sound is rather derivative, but this album is saved by youthful enthusiasm, thrashy vigor, and a tight performance. The lyrics are misogynistic and creepy, not graphic like brutal death, but coming across as personal confessions. It's clear that these dudes watch a lot of Italian porn and giallo movies and that they are not very good at life.
Chronicles of the North part 2.1 - Vacant Throne
The secret order of T’Chah Karnac was often mentioned in
whispers in the northern lands. They were said to be the fearsome wizards who
bound each of the royal bloodlines to a family of wyvern in order to prevent
the ruling houses from warring with one another. Tales of their evil or heroism
abound in the bard songs of northern Jenkabala, but their existence is often
disputed, some being of the opinion that the Wyvern’s grasp of magic was already
so great and the creatures themselves so wise that they must have existed long
before the human bloodlines sprung fourth on Centon. Most believe that the
creatures created humans for some obscure purpose and if they don’t worship
them, they at least have respect for their powers. With this knowledge, you can
imagine the surprise and disbelief when we, kidnapped from the forest floor by
a reptilian ape, were guided to this pathway carved everywhere with the symbols
of T’Chah Karnac. The path itself was cut deeply into the wood of the massive
branch so that the sides rose up almost to our height. We
had been walking on
an incline and the walls quickly closed above our heads. We were inside the
tree. Above the corridor, the wood had been perforated with thin slats to
provide light and as we went further into the pleasant smelling center of the
sap-filled branch other passages shot off to either side, but everything was
deserted. We explored the many chambers here, all roughly the same size and all
containing nothing that would give any indication of the former occupants of
this strange fortress. Up flights of rough stairs we walked, through massive
chambers with catwalks and carven doors. Still, nothing, perhaps there were
other Simian lizards lurking about somewhere. Perhaps this creature’s master
had died and it still was carrying out orders remembered from long ago. We came
to a gallery built with a long window on one side. The sun’s heat was very
strong here, we were surely near the top of the tree. Suddenly, Bloodmace grabs
my shoulder’ “Look it’s…a garden.” Indeed, I had not noticed but there was a
cultivated garden filled with edible plants and flowers set into the floor of
this room. From the shadows beyond, a figure emerges.
The second album, The Final Separation, is more of the same, but still enjoyable. The sound is clanky and lo-fi, and there are a few more conventional speed metal trappings. I love their album covers. The singer puts himself on every cover, looking like some low rent Hammer horror villain mixed with Charles Manson, essentially making him then band's own mascot. It's comedy gold. And the same lyrical misanthropy persists.
Chronicles of the North part 2.2 - The Warning
As the figure moves from the back of the room into the
blazing light that beats down from the aperture carved in the wall closest to
where Bloodmace and I stand, its hands trace shapes in the air. The cloak that
conceals our host makes it impossible to discern anything about this mysterious
treetop dweller. There is a great flapping of wings above and the unknown
presence glides past us to gaze out the window. Pulling back the hood, the stranger reveals
himself to be a short-haired human with immaculately trimmed facial hair, who
spoke with casual authority, “So, the sons of Bloodhammer. Your father came to
me to tell me of the folly you have perpetrated below.” Out of the corner of my
eye I can see Bloodmace’s evil eye on me. “I see he has given you the cloaks.
Do you know how to use them?” Bloodmace and I give each other a puzzled look.
Indignant, the master of the treetops turns, looks out the windows and raises
his arms to the sky, “Why Bloodhammer?” As if in answer, the birds perched atop
the titanic branch that contains this room take flight all at once with a
goading cry that sounds like laughter. Whirling around, the mystic fixes us
with an intense stare, “I am Chanthoth, last of the T’Chah Karnac. Your lot has
never been easy but it’s about to get very much harder.” Waving his hand above
the windowsill Chanthoth raises a strange glowing display out of the wood,
makes another motion and we hear the ancient hymn,
“From a haze came a rage of thunder
Distant signs of darkness on the way
Fading cries scream of pain and hunger
The sun is sinking quickly and the three of us stare wordlessly into
the blood red sky, meditating on the battle to come. The third album, IX, is where they step up their game and release their thrash masterpiece. This features good production, more speed, tighter performances, tighter songs, and killer riffery. This album equals anything in the German thrash pantheon. The lyrics are even more incoherent and demented. The awesome cover had made vocalist/mascot A.C. Wild into the god of this world, evil wizard incarnate. This was the clear winner of the night. Jjjjwild, man! Wild!
Words of the Elders
And so the adventure in the northlands begins. The seeds of intrigues
past have grown in secret, taking on strange forms in the darkness and have
become heavy with the fruit of rebellion. What secrets lay buried within this
empty stronghold? The very existence of
the T’Chah Karnac would shake the very foundations of politics and history on
this timepiece world. Strange workings on mountaintops and deep jungles have
led Bloodmace and Demon Scourge from Jenkabala to Waylor and back, on a quest
to confront the evil Lord Headron of Dantor. He has made the sacred palace of
metal in the Jenkabala woods into a mall where posers and fascists frolic and
cavort under the icy moon. Brothers and Sisters of metal, raise your fists to
the air to give berserker strength to the lone thrashers who search unendingly
for the truth of their legacy among the ancient trees of this weird forest and
to their brethren to the south, who even now trudge through the kaleidoscopic
sands of the Time Desert on their way to Castle Thrashstone and destiny!
Until next week,battalions of fear
Horns
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