Fear Beyond the Vision - Iron Dan and a Contest of Concepts

There are some metal nights that are stranger than others. Some hours cannot be accounted for. Occasionally, when the early evening light beams through the Jenkabala windows and libations flow free in the joyous celebration of life and freedom, there is a flickering. Perhaps it is only momentary, but the seed remains. Much like the seed of madness that grew within Demon Scourge after his visit with Tolar the Mystic in the Jenkabala wilderness so long ago, the seed bears fruit of high weirdness. Nothing is as it would seem and I wake the next morning with the sun shining brightly in my eyes wondering, "Where did everybody go?" Such was the night of the great black wind that blew down from Mount Tarvo itself. Listen to the cosmos! Voices of mothers and fathers call to you on the dusk, when all is quiet and the lamp burns dimly in the study.Tonight I was visited by Iron Dan and had one of the strangest adventures in the annals of metal night. 

We began the evening uneventfully enough, with mid tempo moshing provided by Dementia, a latter day thrash band from Wisconsin. On Recuperate From Reality, these cheeseheads craft in interesting blend of thrash and doom with some really crushing rhythms throughout tunes like Funeral March and Bornto Die. Dementia love playing slow so much the fast riffs seem even faster. This dosen't always work in their favor, however. Many songs simply run too long, allowing boredom to set in during the endless, meandering solos played over sluggish riffs that populate the middle 2 or 3 minutes of each piece. They manage some nice dynamics and interesting structural ideas, the middle section of Insane, for example. Their singer has an interesting style, as if he's trying for something between James Hetfield and Jim Matheos The cover is a piece of shit, but don't let that deter you from checking out these Midwestern meatheads. not the most amazing album, but a solid take on the genre that's original enough to merit a second listen. 

Chronicles of the North Part 7.1 -  Get Ready for Power

Fester Blackheart stood beneath the hut-like structure formed of leaf and root, motioning for me to rise from where I had fallen out of the tree. All throughout the borderland between Samur and Jenkabala there are regions of tunnels where leaves falling from the canopy above have covered the tremendous roots of the sourwood trees that thrust their ancient roots through the forest floor. Countless animals use these tunnels for shelter in the cold winter months, but Fester Blackheart uses this one to store his battered K car, a monstrous concoction of tractor wheels, duct tape and obscure punk stickers. when I enter this organic garage, I am confronted by the smell of animal waste. My guide has gone behind the car and is shoveling shit from a large pile into the trunk of the car. He calls out to me' "You don't think this thing runs on prayers do ya? Grab a shovel and pour it on!" Reluctantly, I pick up the other tool and fill the chamber with post digestive slop from who-knows-what stinky and potentially dangerous animal. Our odious task finished, we climb into the cabin of the rusty relic and fire up the engine. Unsurprisingly, Fester is a reckless driver, careening forth into the forest with little regard for his life or mine. We drive on for a time in silence, weaving between massive trunks and through tangled root caverns. For a time we drive through a field where one of the immense pillars of the forest has fallen and sun floods the void. I seemed to notice my host nervously push the accelerator harder when we heard a faint piping, barely audible above the din of the engine. Turning his wild eyes in my direction, Fester speaks, "You've never been to Iron Dan's huh? They used to call him Parthon the Younger, but he became Iron Dan after learning the ways of the Samurian mystics at lake Chawa. They say he can know what's in your soul faster than he can meet your eyes." Fester pauses a moment, as if deep in thought, "He's a sharp dresser, too."

Even as the intro to Nightfall inMiddle Earth began, I knew this would be no ordinary metal night. Iron Dan sat across from me with an evil look on his face and while the power dynamics of Nightfall exploded in the Jenkabala listening chamber, I felt a strange power grip me. I was trying to discuss Blind Guardian's older speed metal albums when things started to get dim and before I could make my case for Hansi Kursh being the best power metal vocalist of all time, my world shattered into a thousand reflecting shards. Where was I? I saw an earthen cavern, a horrible monster and felt the terrible pounding of another being trying to gain entrance to my mind. Blood Tears plodded along as I fought to understand what my senses were apprehending. Terror gripped my soul but then out of the darkness, the soaring harmonies of Mirror Mirror reached their hands through the gloom. The centerpiece of this legendary band's divisive delving into the world of power/prog metal reached out it's powerful arms to extract me from the mire of confusion. Sadly, it did nothing to make me less drunk. Iron Dan was lovin' it, donning a fur mask and dancing around me with a spear. This album is textbook fantasy metal. The arrangements are replete with excessive instrumentation, keyboards, flutes, strings, whatever the hell it takes to do the job, Blind Guardian are on the case. There is no doubt that the less D&D oriented metal fan may not understand the appeal of a song like The Eldar, or the many weird interludes between the songs, but songs like When Sorrow Sang and Mirror Mirror are focused metal mood pieces. The third time I flipped over the royal ottoman must have been some kind of sign because at that moment my weird guest declared this saga of elf and werewolf to be the winner of the night.

Chronicles of the North Part 7.2 - Diary of A Madman

Our rust-eaten jalopy eventually pulls into an unusually large root cavern and fester jams the brakes, fishtailing so that his back end just taps the wall as we slide into our parking spot. From out of the

shadows in the rear of the cave comes a tall figure, clad in fur vestments that surround a gleaming metal breastplate. On his face he wears a mask of Wyvern skin, cutting a terrible figure in the gloom. Iron Dan stretches his hand toward me, "Come, son of Bloodhammer. We shall measure your treachery on the scale of truth. Come with me, leaving all behind." I follow the evil looking stranger into the recesses beyond the dimly lit entry. We walk on forever, dirt giving way to tile, then to glass, faces below staring at each footfall. Around corners and up thin stairways, we travel through carpeted galleries and vast halls, but I lose sight of Iron Dan. Turning into a room off this hallway of dubious aspect, I am suddenly in the Jenkabala listening room. Iron Dan sits across from me and says, "Well, we gonna start that Blind Guardian or what?" I blink my eyes and put on the album. From the speakers comes the sound of battle, and the journey begins. The epic tale unfolds as I fall into myself. Am I Demon Scourge or Chris? Iron Dan is Parthon and both faces stare out from the same eyes. The walls that surround us crumble and melt and we are once again inside the damp cave. Darkness swoops in from the corners. Headron is here, his rubbery body encased in loose golden robes, casting reflections on the moldering logs around us. Slime covered mandibles twitch below a pair of tremendous faceted eyes, but this is only a body. Inside my mind, Headron is knocking. The hideous aspect of the form he has chosen distracts me and the door opens a crack. I slam it shut with an old verse from the book of Motorhead.

"So you see, the only proof,

Of what you are is in the way you see the truth
Don't be scared, live to win
Although they're always gonna tell you it's a sin
In the end, you're on your own
And there is no-one that can stop you being alone."

In the cavern, I battle with a horror from beyond, in my mind I battle with a enemy hiding within, and in the Jenkabala listening room I try to hold the two together. Stones crumble as one reality is displaced by another. Headron taunts me with visions of my friends as I killed them without mercy, Iron Dan's laughter echoing out of the gaping vortex in the Thrashstone throne room. Deep within me, however, a flicker becomes a flame and my mind begins to track the streams of data flowing from each channel of my being. Psychic motions at first halting and hesitant become assured and I feel the flame grow hotter until it's heat pours our of me like a river past a mill, turning rage into focused energy. Three worlds grow closer as I tighten my thoughts around them and in a moment there is a wet pop, and warm thick fluid covers me. I'm not sure if the rupture is in me or outside me, but calm blankets me. The air is cool and autumnal when I begin to feel and smell again. A wood bug, its mandibles twitching, regards me with faceted eyes then scurries off into the early evening gloom.

You don't have to play Operation:Mindcrime for me. I know it as well as you can know an album. This was my high school standby, one of a few definitive metal albums that were released in those crazy days at the end of the eighties, when this was mainstream music. It was a few years before their real commercial breakthrough,but I have never met a Queensryche fan that didn't say this was their favorite album. A bold statement to be sure, but this was a band at their absolute peak, Geoff Tate, with his Halford-like mastery of classic heavy metal vocal style easily handled anything the band could throw at him. Chris DeGarmo and Michael Wilton were at the peak of their powers as well. Together with Eddie Jackson and Scott Rockenfield, they had been a team since the early eighties and had already had some success with their laser sharp brand of tech-savvy metal. The concept behind Mindcrime is the opposite of Nightfall. Instead of Elven kings and mythical battles we get Heroin addicts, nuns, and political intrigue. Had I been more prepared to do battle with the invader from beyond time, this would have been the clear winner. Sometime in the night however, Iron Dan disappeared, leaving only a few photos. Who is this mysterious stranger that walks in the twilight?

 Demon Scourge has opened a door within himself to the person on the other side. Two bodies sharing the same mind, fighting the same battle. Two occupants in adjoining hotel rooms, neither knowing what the other is doing. On the other side of Centon, Bloodmace is fighting his way across the Time Desert, guiding his party across the wasteland with his trusty tauriat and mighty mace. Soon he shall return to Jenkabala and the titans of old shall join forces with the heroes of today to take back Jenkabala Palace from Headron! Godspeed, O mighty master of murderous mutants, your people cry for justice and to the north you must go. Raise your fists in the air metal maniacs! Horns to the sky, let us ride to victory on a wave of cascsading sixteenth notes. 

Until next week shadow thieves, 

Horns