Wartime - Doom Metal and the Battle for Jenkabala

We were going to do something a bit different, more of a trollish doom theme, but the band we intended to warm up with, Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats, got us into a Sabbath groove. So it continued through out the night, until human sacrifice, astral projection, and craft beer proved to be the only back through the dark portal. Yup. Uncle Acid is a new band from England and we heard their 2011 opus Blood Lust. Big stoner rock vibe, but without the stems and seeds, mining thick Sabbath riffs and grooves right down to the analog warmth. Vocalist Uncle Acid sounds amiably Ozzy-like, though his vocals are buried in the background. Not big on songcraft, the focus is on groove, feel, and wah-wah, fuzz, and mushrooms. It's a good time doom record, with only a few foreboding bad acid trip-like moments. I liked this album a lot, but it did not win the night.


Chronicles of the North Part 10.1 - The Rite of Darkness

Chanthoth was sitting in the darkness when we reached him in the garden chamber of the tree bound fortress. Bloodmace and I had split our party into three groups,  Hellmaster, Deathcrush, Vorthon, Lotar and Lady Steel together with Frostor  are holding positions outside, near the entrance to this arboreal habitat. Fester Blackheart, Ophelia Skullbourne and Hell Wraith have descended to the root level, seeking the hidden machinery called the Garm. We are here with Chanthoth to cast a spell against the Wyvern that, when amplified by the Garm, will disrupt the power flow of Samur's reptilian rulers. With a warm pop, all the candles placed about the room lighted as we approached the meditating mystic. Without opening his eyes, Chanthoth addresses us."Quickly now, light the 

incense. We haven't much time." Striding rapidly to the other end of the long gallery that served as Chanthoth's garden, I grab a chunk of pink crystal from one of the shelves that line the wall and hold it over one of the candles. I drop the crackling shard into a hollowed out skull and return to my position. Bloodmace has taken his place as well, sitting cross legged opposite the bearded wizard. I placed the skull, now emitting a thick column of fragrant smoke, into the middle of the circle. Chanthoth picks up his guitar and begins to pick out the music. We chant the ancient spell "Harder Than Steel." Outside, we hear the flapping of giant wings. The Wyvern are here. From the great window that runs across the wall opposite us, I can see two of the fearsome creatures peering in. "They cannot enter." I hear our host's voice inside my mind. "Their troops will be on their way up now though. Bloodmace, use the Darkthrone patch. Eyes still closed, the weird magician raises his pick hand and a bolt of energy strikes the lizards at the window, who fall precipitously to the ground with a crashing thud that shakes the forest. From the other side of the room, Sauron and human warriors flood into the sanctuary, surrounding us. I can feel the floor tremble a bit as the organic machinery of the Garm groans into motion. Bloodmace and I share a knowing glance as we put our backs together and prepare to defend our position.

The winner of the night were doom godz Pentagram, and their proper 1985 debut, Relentless. Having been around since the early 70's, Pentagram were one of the first metal bands to run with the sound that Sabbath abandoned in the mid 70's, when they were all snorting massive amounts of cocaine. Founder Bobby Leibling, despite being a massively talented songwriter, took as many drugs as he could afford, getting clean from heroin only a few years ago. Relentless is a full on doom metal album, with a focus on song craft and massive, skull crushing riffs. The songs chug along from slow paced to mid tempo, and the attack is aggressive, like Sabbath on crank. Not many pleasant vibes running through this album. All is darkness and doom. They, along with St. Vitus and Trouble, are the true progenitors of the doom genre and this album is a certified classic, an essential document. Winner of the night. Here's the entire fucking album:


Chronicles of the North Part 10.1 - The Wizard of Ice and Death 

There were twenty soldiers, perhaps more staring at us, weapons drawn. From the back of their ranks a thick, fierce Sauron strode towards us, drawing an ornate Samurian pistol. Chuckling, he pulls back the hammer, "I have not forgotten how you treated our queen in the days just before your first deaths. Hellmaster will be a dead man now, fools." He pulls back the hammer but before he has a chance to shoot, Bloodmace, hand on the Darkthrone patch, unleashes a blast of cold from his mouth with an unholy scream. The Sauron commander's cries are cut short as the wind tears away his flesh, it's icy force shattering chunks of crystallized tissue into green and ruby dust. Panic breaks out in our enemy's ranks as Bloodmace continues to emit a horrible sound though his entire body has been consumed by the howling wind, his physical contour lost in the blinding release of energy. Wyverns are now circling the tree, watching their troops be decimated with a frozen blast. There is one moment of silence as Bloodmace returns to this plane in an empty room, but the clattering and shouting of another group soon fills the air. The voice of Chanthoth comes to me again, "Let your brother handle these clowns. You must get to the root level and help Hell Wraith and Ophelia with the Garm." I turn to communicate this to Bloodmace, but I can see in his smirk that he already knows. He stands defiantly before our foes, fingers just brushing the Scream Bloody Gore patch, and again fear courses through their ranks as one by one torsos burst open with a wet ripping sound, spraying guts over everything. Before the stairs crowd with more victims, I quietly make my exit.

Witchfinder General are almost in that same league, but some unintended goofiness and a fatal sense of juvenalia hindered them from becoming true doom metal gods. Their first album, Death Penalty, with its wonderfully randy album cover, is a crushing document of doom, but lyrically, it becomes a bit embarrassing.

I want a woman 'cos it's a Saturday night
I wanna make her feel alright
I'm going to lay her, do you know what I mean
I really wanna make her scream

Lyrics like these would be laughed off a Spinal Tap album. Still, the vocals are not exactly enunciated with precision, so this is a good one to turn up loud and simply let the majestic riffery take over.  There is a sense of innocence that is always so refreshing when it comes to obscure NWOBHM bands, of which these lads were considered to be on the forefront of the second wave. Ain't a bad record.

Words of the Elders

The battle has begun. For generations the T'chah Karnac have been absent from the stage of history on Centon. Their magic despised, their people imprisoned in the massive tree. Their legacy has been relegated to bard songs and fairy tales, but Chanthoth has survived. The last teacher of the old magic brought here from Earth so long ago. Here is an act of defiance from an enemy who was assumed defeated, crushed into dust. Bloodhammer knew what he was doing when he sent the brothers back to the forests of northern Jenkabala again. Now the sounds of combat fill the air and destiny is knocking at the door. Hail Bloodmace and Hellmaster. Hail to the metal godz! Put their heads on the grinding wheel!

Until next week Morpheus marauders,

Horns