A Day of Reckoning - Testament, Hellmaster and the Battle of Jenkabala Forest

 It's fun exploring the outer realms of the musical universe for weirdness and excitement, but sometimes you need to come home, to have a nice big comfy bowl of blood porridge and Yid entrails, just like mom used to make. Testament are kind of like that, for this crotchety old school thrasher.

Testament's first album, The Legacy, is their best album. Back in the day, I sort held up my nose at this sort of basic Bay Area thrash, opting more for the progressive thrash of Metallica and Voivod. But listening to this album for the first time in years, I find that my tastes have progressed into a learned regression, and I can appreciate this brand of no frills head ripping. Alas, I have matured. Their sound, somewhat derivative of Metallica's faster songs, is almost textbook Bay Area thrash, with an accent on skull crush and bludgeoning. There is a set formula, but there is also virtuosic lead playing courtesy of future Trans-Siberian Orchestra ass master, Alex Skolnick and there are also some damn tasty riffs and some catchy songwriting. Songs are about war, demons, wizards, swords, generalized alienation, and the end of the fucking world, man. Winner of the night!

Chronicles of the North Part 12.1 - Chalice of Blood 
Chanthoth's quarters are wet with blood and viscera. Bloodmace is still hacking his way through the seemingly endless troops that filed into this chamber of horrors. As the eager barbarian smashes the head of the last opponent into a disgusting pulp, the meditating mystic calls to him, "Enough! seal the passage with your Wolves in the Throne Room patch." Bloodmace complies, moving his right hand across to the bloodstained embroidery on the left side of his jacket. With the barest contact, Bloodmace has gone within the very being of the forest. He becomes one with the spirit of the tree, 

pulling rough fibers across the door until there is nothing but wood where the portal once was. 

Immediately, Chanthoth begins his chant, "The moon leads celestial legions to cast the stars from their ancient thrones! Astral blood pours forth from their grievous wounds!" tracing obscure shapes with his hands, he begins to weave his web. With the invaders momentarily held at bay, Bloodmace notices that he can feel everything the tree feels. He senses the roots and branches, he can feel the Wyvern troops climbing up the furrowed bark of this ancient sourwood on their way to attack the chamber. Down at root level I can feel the eyes of my brother upon us. Ophelia Skullbourne, Fester Blackheart, Hell Wraith, and I have just met the six-armed human who calls himself Parth-Amon and holds the final secret of the Garm. Hell Wraith is trying to convince the goateed elder to unlock the astral machine but the guardian is suspicious. Inside my mind, Bloodmace is telling me they have started the spell. I must act. Across the room, Parth-Amon is saying, "Yes, but how do I know you represent the T'Chah Karnac? This is not just some weapon. This machine could destroy our entire world!" My hand reaches up to the shoulder patch, Operation:Mindcrime, and when I touch it, the guardian’s face changes. He looks confused and threatened for a moment, like a trapped animal, and seems about to lash out when I approach him. I look into his eyes and say "Speak the word, the word is all of us." The others stare in amazement as the skeptical master of the Garm turns and begins tracing arcane patterns in the air with his six hands. Creaking and groaning, the weird engine roars to life.

Skip ahead, to their third album, Practice What You Preach, released the summer I graduated from high school, 1989. Now signed to a major label, this is a a more streamlined approach, and also a more boring approach. Gone are the fast ragers, replaced by songs that sound too earnestly like they wanna be in that top 40 list along with Metallica. There are some great riffs and some good jams on this album, but this it lets you down way too much at come chorus time, the melodies sounding almost breezy at times. This got great reviews when it came out, and the 'live in the studio' sound was praised, but tell you the truth, they refined this approach on their next album, Souls of Black, which has a crappier, rushed production(apparently they were trying to get product out in time for some big MTV thrash package tour), but is still better, heavier album than this.

Chronicles of the north 12.2 - March Into Fire
Hellmaster barely noticed the ground shaking, or the beating of the Wyvern wings from high above. The battle had begun and all around his friends were attacking the Wyvern troops from their hiding spots under and above the soldier's heads, but Hellmaster was focused on a single foe, Sharlen Gort. Lean and sinewy, wearing a suit of human hides in the manner of the Sauron elite, Sharlen snarled 

savagely from the other side of the branch, "Now you'll see how we deal with traitors in Samur, filthy dog!" He lunges at Hellmaster with his jeweled dagger but the desert mystic drops off the branch, catching himself with his hands. Sharlen loses his balance and falls also, catching himself on the next lower branch. Hellmaster drops down and waits for his challenger to rise, "You beg for your destruction, cousin. Go now and I will forget I have seen you." The wild eyed Samurian warrior pulls himself up and leaps again at Hellmaster, slamming him into a deep furrow in the bark where branch meets trunk. The flashing dagger slices across Hellmaster's sternum, cutting through the purple robe he wears. It's already too late though. Using the devastating magic he has studied in the Time Desert, Hellmaster focuses his energy towards one point and as Sharlen raises his weapon to deliver the killing blow, his fist smashes through armor, flesh and ribcage to grab hold of his cousin's beating heart. Looking directly into Sharlen's mesmerized eyes, he yanks the organ from his body and holding it to the sky, squeezes. The horrible, animal, sound of Hellmaster's victory cry is drowned out by the sounds of battle, but as the warrior of magic looks up from the battleground to the night sky, he sees the Wyvern tribe circling the treetop. "There will be no rest tonight," he thinks to himself as he wipes the blood from his hand.

 Jump forward to the end of the 90's, and The Gathering rears its blackened face. This album has been highly lauded in the metal press as one of the best albums of the 90's, but actually, it's overrated. It's ssoooooo....welll......90's. Their early 90's albums, were deathed up thrash metal album along the lines of Sepultura, and this album was lauded as a return to their roots. But the thrash and speed are toned down, and there are nu metal overtones and influences all this album. With a super group pedigree featuring Dave Lombardo and Steve Digiorgio, was expecting something a bit more raging and incredible, but what you get is just another Testament album. Not that there aren't some great moments here, mainly when it speeds up, but for the most part, overrated. Also, the lyrics are touchy-feely, I'm getting older now,  I hate mygoddamnself 90's bullshit. More dragons and death, please, Mr. Billy. Skip ahead to The Formation of Damnation, a more welcome return to form for us crotchety old school thrashers.

Words of the Elders

Battle scorches the ground on this long and bloody night. The former and current rulers of this world have come to blows. Demon Scourge, Bloodmace and the rest are caught up in the middle of their fight. Who could have guessed that their quest to avenge their fallen comrade, Zodron the Minstrel, would lead them from Jenkabala to the Time Desert, to Waylor and through the realms of death. Now the legion of true metal faces their greatest peril. Thrust into a battle of titans, they must succeed or perish. What will be written on the scroll of history? 

Until next week, Sin Marauders, 



Horns