Every Monday night, between the dusk and the dawn, thus commences the ritual of Metal Night. I, Joseph "Blood Mace" McIntosh and Chris "Demon Scourge" Eddy, scrutinize Metal albums old and new, while drinking adult beverages and rocking the fuck out. Special guests shall be invited to our lair of despair. Can you take the heat, the fire that lives in Hell? I don't think so!
I never would have listened to the Scorpions back in 1991. This dedicated thrasher was just getting into grunge and death metal and Faith No More and a whole bunch of bands like Mind Funk and Fishbone that I don't care about anymore. The Scorpions were just cheesycoked up washed up Spinal Tapped rock whores whose biggest hit, Winds of Change, was the worst song in the world. I mean, The Zoo and Rock You Like A Hurricane weren't bad songs, they were fun at karaoke, but otherwise, fuck the Scorpions. But alas, I grew older and then came the internet and I got the opportunity to check out some back catalogs. And let me tell you something....old school Scorps is the fuckin' shit, dude! Check it out! Owwww!
So we started with their 1976 classic Virgin Killer, whose original album cover would probably get them all thrown in jail if released today. This album is the founding document of their metal sound, having spent the early 70's as a Hendrixy hard hippy noodle band. The riffs, leads(via Uli Jon Roth, whose sound prefigures Yngwie) and sharp soaring harmonies set the fucking standard. Just check out the chorus of Catch Your Train and try to get that fucker out of your head for the next three weeks. There are a couple semi-funky misfires, sung by Uli Roth, but's its always fun listening to German guys get funky. And, of course, the sucky ballad that became a staple for every album they would ever release. But whatever. The title track is as intense as anything you are ever going to hear from 1976.
Into the Necro Lands Part 3.1 - Polar Nights The winter had come early in the necro
lands and the transport we had stolen from the supply depot chugged
slowly across the monochrome plains east of Lady Birdblood's Nest of
Evil. Snow whipped down from the brooding sky, obscuring everything
but the immediate area around the rusty lorry. Since daybreak,
Maddaughter Tesa had been driving us through this wasteland, slogging
down the
rough two track path made almost impassable by the sudden
storm. Bloodmace and I were in the back with Losi of the Wolfskeep
while Birdblood used her navigator to keep us on the path to her
stolen kingdom. "Ok, the turn is right up..." Birdblood
squinted her eyes below blood red bangs as her gaze darted between
the screen and the road ahead. "...Here." Tesa jerked the
wheel left, the truck banked and seemed like it was going to roll as
the back end spun out and around. In slow motion, I saw the massive
spray of snow thrown out by the spinning vehicle and then we came to
a stop.
The next album, was the winner of the night. Taken By Force is a harder, more metal beast. The hilariously anthemic Steamrock Fever starts the album out the right way, a commercial metal juggernaut that is catchy and rockin'. Also, if you are looking to the Scorps for lyrical depth, look elsewhere, unless you want a chuckle, since they are a model of English as a second language buffoonery. The album center piece, Sails of Charon, is the best pure metal song they ever wrote, melding classical riffery with rock n roll elegance, uncharacteristly upping the IQ quotient of this album . This is a sweet album. This was the last album with Uli Jon Roth.
Into the Necro Lands Part 3.2 - Sails of Charon
"Fuck this" Tesa hollered,
slamming her fist on the steering wheel. Everyone was unhurt after
our wipe out, but we now were stuck with the rear passenger side of
our transport wedged on to a mound of packed snow. "Alright,"
I suggested, "Bloodmace and I can get us on the road" My
brother nodded
and we all piled out into the blizzard. Day was
starting to fade, turning the already bleak landscape even more
murky. We were about to use our Immortal patches to call some snow
demons to aid us when a figure emerged from the gloom. My heart began
to race when I caught sight of the gauzy figure, for as its aspect
became clearer to me I realized we had been tracked all the way by
Necro Baby's minions. With the body and face of a great cat, but
covered all over with tough rhino hide, there was no mistaking the
undead hissing and vacant stare. The beast charged at me, but was cut
short with a swipe from Tesa's heavy battle ax, its blood
crystallizing in the frozen air as it exploded from the twitching
body. For a moment there was silence as we all stood in a circle,
weapons at the ready, then the battle exploded. Two more deadcats
bounded into view, along with their keepers, horrible boar-like
humanoids, naked and screaming, swords and pistols in the air. Losi,
who had gone into the wolfskin and transformed herself into a hulking
gray wolf, immediately took out one of them out, tearing away its
whole throat as she whizzed by. The other took a shot at our friend
with his handgun, but Bloodmace scorched him with a blast from the
Venom patch. Suddenly one of the deadcats was upon him. I rushed over
to help, tossing a dagger into the foul beasts forehead. Looking
behind me, I could see Tesa running through the snow toward the
remaining foe. I took a deep breath and turned to see what I could do
for the truck when I heard the booming voice of Bloodmace, "Holy
fuck, it's a convoy people, get on your feet!" Indeed, coming
down the rough road were a dozen pair of headlights. They couldn't
yet see us, but there would be no hiding from them now. Tesa
approached, as did Losi and Birdblood. We gathered at the transport.
Tesa spoke first, "Let us battle, we'll crush them into dust"
She gripped the ax in one hand and a longsword in another. "Battle
it is,"
Bloodmace shouted and raised his fist into the air with
unabashed glee. Losi, still in wolf form, growled approvingly.
"Wait." A familiar voice burst out, "I have a better
idea." Seemingly out of nowhere, Chanthoth, last of the T'Chah
Karnac, wandered in before us. "Follow me, I have a secret
retreat up here, and I might be able to help you with your problem in
the tree fort" We followed the lightly clad relic into a stand
of pine trees nearby as we heard the shouts and hisses of the posse
who had been sent to find us discovering our abandoned vehicle and
the slaughter nearby. "Do like I do!" Chanthoth yelled back
at us. We followed as he ran up to a small hill before a frozen pond.
Black ducks scattered as he jumped from the small ridge and broke
through the ice, dark water glugging behind him. "This better
work!" I yell to my brother in midair. There is a crack of ice,
a rush of cold, then darkness.
Skip ahead few years to 1982 and the Scorpions release one of their biggest albums, the party rock classic Blackout. This is pure arena metal; hooks galore, slick as hairspray, loud, proud, and kinda dumb. Quite enjoyable, especially after a few beers. You have heard the first three songs on this album played a zillion times on classic rock radio, especially 'No One Like You'. You might have gotten laid to these songs.
Words of the Elders Sister moon, hear our cry! Brother wolf, come now to the aid of your pack! In the blackest of nights, the tribe will come together, so it goes on centon. Hail to the black firre that burns down within the souls of humankind on the timepiece world! Hail to the deep river and the mantle of sorrow! Winter has come early in the necro lands and fear blows with the snow.
First we heard French death fornicators Massacra and their workmanlike 1992 slab of steel, Signs of the Decline. You can't really fault this album except that it is absolutely unexceptional death-thrash. Expertly played, fast and slow at appropriate moments, sick and brutal most of the time, as death metal should. Scattered here and there are hints of groove metal, which is what they reemerged as on their next album. I enjoyed it, but I'm not so sure I would return to it time and time again like Gallery of Suicide or Covenant. Oh, yeah, the lyrics are a bit ponderous and a little too socially conscientious. You are not exactly Anthrax, you guys. A few songs about rotted vaginas would have been nice.
Into the Necro Lands Part 2.1 - Ghost Dance
To travel by darkness on the northern
shore of Centon was a breathtaking sight, for all along the
coastline, schools of darvon illuminated the water with their
luminescent beaks, jumping into the air as they hunted nightbirds and
scray that would perch on the jutting rocks that dotted the shallow
waters of the Larksheel Sea. The splashing and cawing of predator and
prey as they did their nightly dance hid the sound of our light tread
as Maddaughter Tesa, Losi and Birdblood, along with
Bloodmace and I
moved silently into our positions. Just out of sight on the beach
ahead was a supply bunker for Necro Baby's security forces. In order
to move more effectively around the countryside, Maddaughter Tesa
decided that we would steal one of their trucks. My brother and I
climbed on to a boulder near the water, where we could see the small
shed next to a fenced yard with vehicles and pallets of food.
Birdblood and Losi mounted the dune to our left, while Maddaughter
walked slowly towards the lighted hovel. We couldn’t hear what the
first soldier yelled as he came out the door, but as soon as he
dropped to the ground three more came rushing out. Bloodmace makes a
motion to rush to her aid, I put my arm out to block him. "Remember
what she said...wait." The hulking barbarian halts with a sigh,
but his mace remains tightly clutched in his hand while the other
rests on the battle jacket. The three soldiers rush our guide with a
cry we can hear from our perch, only to fall to the sand at their
approach, wet pools gathering around their deathless bodies. With
three rapid motions, Maddaughter Tesa beheads them, scooping up her
treasures in a stained canvas bag. I can see a hand thrust out of the
ground, then another and another. Soon, mummified creatures of every
shape and size are converging on the warrior below. Bloodmace and I
leap down from our hiding place and rush headlong into the fray.
The winner of night for me were Australian black metal brutarians Destroyer666. Also infused with thrash, but of the sick, primitive, necro variety, ala Onslaught, Venom, and Hellhammer. To The Devil His Due is a collection of remastered 7 inch eps, showcasing a few lurches in style, adding a bit of variety to the hellish din. The songs range from very raw blackened thrash to very raw black metal at varying tempos and at varying levels of necro, all delivered with primal hatred for all mankind and your weak Christian God. This is good music for drinking lots of beer and whiskey, preferably at the same time while smoking crystal meth while pissing on your mother's grave and then masturbating with sand paper while detonating a bomb at your local Presbyterian youth center. Or just chillin'.
Into the Necro Lands Part 2.2 - Dark Highway
A so-called "Necromancer's Alarm"
is a powerful spell that allows a wizard to plant corpses anywhere
within a certain radius and they can be animated against a foe with
the flip of a switch, even by someone with no magical ability.
Whoever set this trap was no amateur. There were
hundreds of leathery
bodies throwing themselves at us. None were hard to kill, but they
would pile over you, biting and clawing until you were dragged down.
"Look out Tesa!" I cried as a blast of flame from the
bathory patch exploded from my left hand, cutting a swath through the
ragged throng. Losi and Birdblood were fighting their way toward the
center of the maelstrom as well when we all heard the booming voice
of Bloodmace, "Stand back, and let the power of christ handle
these fuckers!" I whirl around just in time to see Bloodmace
grabbing his Stryper belt buckle and dive to the side just as a beam
of warm white light pours fourth from the waist of the mighty
warrior, causing the desiccated corpses to crumble before our eyes. A
horrible stench fills the air as the bodies lose form and Tesa
motions to us, "Get the cruiser, we have to make tracks before
Necro Baby sends help. On to the Nest of Evil!" Losi sprints to
the fence and leaps over, catlike. Smashing the window of the
transport with her elbow, she jumps in and has it started in moments.
The timid fence puts up no resistance as the slight wolfspawn pilots
the truck through the barricade and round to where we are standing.
As the transport pulls away into the dunes, a black duck takes
flight, winging into the sky. It vaults above the rippled sand,
sailing southwest into the necro lands.
Mistress Crowbastard showed up right in the middle of grind gods Rotted Sound's second album, Drain, which was kicking our asses anyway, but Crowbastard decided to finish the job. She did this just because she felt like it. While she was pummeling us with her titanium plated num-chucks, Drain proved to be the perfect soundtrack. This is grindcore with the deftness of a jazz combo and the ferocity of a weasel on crack. Occasionally, they lapse into such jazz foolishness as such as employing the rim shot. Might as well have a flute solo to slap on top. But these moments are relatively brief. Then it is back to making your synapses into mush in exactly the way we like, which is more than I can say for the agonizing punishment doled out by Mistress Crowbastard. Ouchh!!!!!!
Words of the Elders
The necro lands are singing their
deadly song. It is a poem of sorrow and hatred that speaks to the
dark places, deep within the soul. Like the spear of Chemlok, our
champions plunge into the heart of this mysterious land with the
power of the very gods, for the time has been long since the dwellers
of Centon have tasted the sweet water of freedom.
Back from the icy wastelands of Hoth, via the space elevator made of dicks, I have returned. Through epic drudgery, and exciting boredom, I have returned to you from afar, which is actually just the corner liquor store with a bottle of Arrow Vodka and a bundle of cheap porn mags With bonus DVDs. I forgot to buy ginger ale! Through the gargulous aeons!!!!! WE'RE THRASHING ALL AROUND!!!!! IT'S METAL NIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!
Tonight, it was just me and Demon Scourge and his wench, whose metal name I have forgotten. Metal Night has often been a party these last few weeks, but it's's nice to just once in a while lay back and reflect on the more subtle points of a subtle genre of music, thrash fucking metal. First up, we heard the first self title album album from Dr. Living Dead, who hail from that birthing ground of retro metal, Sweden. This album is of interest mainly for it's oddly deliberate jumble of thrash metal styles. You get a Nuclear Assault riff here, a Slayer riff there, DRI all over the place, lots of Bay Area thrash touches, and gang shouts galore. But the thing that makes it stand out from total generic status is come chorus time, Suicidal Tendencies is deftly pilfered. This is really the first thrash band I've heard to deliberately rip off Suicidal, right down to naming one of their songs 'Feeding The Cyco'. But all in all, this is a competent moshfest, and enjoyable for how many blatantly stolen riffs can be identified.
Into the Necro Lands Part 1.1 - Cemetery Mass
The cold afternoon air was filled with
the shouts and grunts of labor. Bare trees, reaching their skeletal
limbs to the gray sky above watched impassively as the humans below
carried out their toil on the weird structure in the clearing. Black
cloaked druids were swarming around the building, some measured and
shouted orders, others were levitating the dark stones and dropping
them into place where faceless ghouls were carving sacred symbols
into the finished portions with their hellish
instruments. Fine snow,
blown by the icy wind, created a freezing mist that made it almost
impossible for me to stay on the trail, but I followed the pounding
and barking din until the shadowy form of Jenkabala Temple loomed
there in front of me. Past expressionless druid and snarling ghoul I
strode, circling our new home to examine the work that had been done
that day. Built by applying the principals of sacred geometry learned
by Hellmaster in the Time Desert, the temple had five spires of
differing heights connected to a central chamber. I rounded the
corner of the first tower, admiring the stonework and elegant
cuneiform markings that covered the south facing surfaces. For just a
moment, the clouds broke and a single beam of reddish sunlight fell
on the wall next to me, illuminating the spells uopn it. "Brother!"
A voice called out and from the gloom emerged Bloodmace, clad in furs
and spiked leather armor. "Come, we have visitors from afar. Let
us repair to the temple and greet them." Returning to the front
of our reborn palace, we went, through the doors that bore the
Jenkabala crest and into the heart of our kingdom.
But the winner of the night, for me anyway, was the mighty return of DRI frontman Kurt Brecht in the Texas super group Pasadena Napalm Division2013 self titled album. Holy fucking shit did this album kick my ass. It is crossover thrash. There is a retro sensibility. The riffs are sharp and original, with a nice tinge of dissonance, courtesy of lamented Texas weirdos Dead Horse. These are men, pushing 50, who instill in these tunes a gleefully sophomoric skater punk sensibility with a horror movie themes, and wry cynicism. Mr. Brecht has not lost a step, attacking the lyrics with the exhilarating rhythmic blitzkrieg that marked his work with DRI. Also, he still sounds like a pissed off 17 year old. Fucking awesome.
Into the Necro Lands Part 1.2 - Always Youth
We met the travelers in the main
temple. Dim light filtered through the glass dome above as we made
our way through the maze of plants to the enclosure in the middle of
the chamber that served as the listening room for our sacred rites.
Entering the candlelit space, we are greeted by Lady Birdblood and
her companions, Losi of the Wolfskeep, staring out gravely from
beneath her headdress, dark hair cascading down her thin shoulders
and The Maddaughter Tesa who was clad in the striking leather armor
of her people witch was covered everywhere in sharpened talons of
wyvern. We exchange
greetings and the flame-haired Birdblood presents
us with a bag of heads they have gathered on their travels and speaks
of their reason for coming, "The west is in grave danger, the
Nest of Evil was overrun last night by the necrofolk. Had it not been
for Maddaughter Tesa, we would surely be walking in Narn now."
Behind her, Losi rose from the velvet chair and spoke up with an
alarming necro rasp of the kind favored by the very clan that had
just perpetrated this act of bloodshed, "I was forced to hide
the wolves from them." She gargled, "My pack is no longer
safe in the western lands. Necro Baby and Iron James have turned the
necro lands into an inferno." Bloodmace strokes his chin with a
ceremonial dagger, the sacred blade flicking errant beard hairs to
the ground. "Necro Baby" He mumbles, "The necro lands
call to us, brother." He looks to me with a spark in his eye
that warns of impending danger and sudden violence. "Our first
act must be to storm Nest of Evil and root out the foul interlopers.
I want to taste their cold, black blood!" I am about to raise my
voice in protest of my brothers rash call to arms when Maddaughter
joins the verbal fray, using the legendary spirit voice of the Uraks,
"Stop this foolishness, we came here for help, not to be led
into the dead one's trap." All are silent. Even Bloodmace, whose
unending stubbornness usually makes him impervious to enchantments of
this type is listening with rapt attention. "Why do you think
they strike at your stronghold Lady Birdblood? They want to drive us
here, where their real quarry lies." She looks at my brother and
I, "Oh, we will attack them, and slit their filthy necks with
blades of steel." Tesa unsheathes her sword and looks intently
at the blade for a moment, "But there will be no way out for
them, and they will know the name of the hand that rips the last
spirit from their tattered bodies." A hundred candles, one for
each god of the Jenkabala pantheon, cast flickering shadows on the
crystal walls of the listening room and for a moment there is silence
as we all ponder this undertaking. From far away, the bell sounds for
the evening meal as the last tiny snowflakes drift past Jenkabala
Temple.
But Demon Scourge is an old school thrasher to the deep fucking bone, and was more impressed by the old school thrash sounds of SDI and their 1988 album Sign of the Wicked. This is decent German thrash, kind of like Helloween, but with raspier, less operatic vocals. I can't really fault this album, it's a thrashfest for damn sure, but to my ears it's kind of, well, average. I expect more evil than heroics from my German thrash bands. Gimme some witchy vocals fuckers! Well, this cause obvious grief to Demon Scourge, and what a might sword battle we had! I cut a bitch! I cut a motherfukin'' bitch!!!!!!!!!
Words of the Elders Thus the tale of the Necro Lands begins. What terrible secrets does that dark wilderness hold? What enemies lurk unseen in the rocky canyons and rolling hills of Centon's agricultural capitol? The dead are alive there among the neat rows of tatstal and tak corn, and they are on the move. Under the evil rule of Necro Baby, the long suffering dead are marching out to crush village after village, but they are about to meet an enemy equal to the might of their powerful necromancers.
The Nest of Evil is the home
of the fabled tyrant of yore, Lady Birdblood. Under her rule, the
laws of hell were strictly obeyed and blood was shed at the drop of a
hat. One chilly night, I, Demon Scourge of Jenkabala dared to enter
her spiritual realm and discover the secrets of stoner metal. I
arrived with the sacred relics of our jungle land and lit the black
candles. In a moment, her minions surrounded me, their swords glowing
in the moonlight coming through the tremendous window next to us.
Slowly, the Lady herself materialized with the rulers of Urak. Losi
of the Wolfskeep, The Maddaughter Tesa and Little Sip. Soon,
Mistress Crowbastard and Rangar the Sectaurian arrived and the
challenge had begun!
The first band we delved
into was Predicted from Moscow. Now split up, their sole release was
the 2011 Demos In The Witch House. I was a sucker for the cover art
and the Lovecraft themed album title and this band was well liked by
the council, but as with so many good bands, stiff competition form
the other two contenders knocked them out of the running. The music
is a stoner/doom concoction, falling more in the realm of Sabbath
influenced doom most of the time. While not the most original band we
have ever encountered, they set the pace for the night to come, also,this.
Lives of the Noble Centonians Part 8.1 - The Void
The wooden table was crowded
with humans and the air was filled with the mummer of quiet
conversation. The tower room of Castle Stonefist was host to
representatives from each human tribe on this strange world. The
order of the day was discussion of the chilling events that had
plagued the villages around the Time Desert. As the hot sun began to
set, casting its warm red glow through the open windows, Bloodmace
began to speak to the group, "My friends, we have come far to
understand this new threat from the dimensional wasteland. When
Headron was defeated so long ago, he left the middle of our country
an almost uninhabitable desert before our forebearers sent him back
into
Dantor, but now we face a new threat. As most of you know,
several villages have disappeared, seemingly eaten by the Time
Desert. Monsters that have never been seen in this dimension are
attacking travelers in the north. I fear that all of these things can
point to just one cause: the return of Headron." A fearful gasp
escaped from the gathering, for the fear of this otherworldly dweller
was very real, even generations after his defeat at the hands of
Bloodhammer and Thandra. Lady Steel was the first to speak, "I
have felt the presence of this force since the last moon. Keep
Trawston stands ready to repel any invaders." Vecton the Bard
opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut short by a blast that
rocked the tower. Skyrock ran to the window to see what the commotion
was all about. He leaned out the window for a moment then whipped
around and yelled, "Wyvern! Get out! Run!" In seconds the
party was headed down the tower stairs, rushing to join the battle.
Bursting from the door, weapons drawn, they are confronted by an
elder wyvern. The creature takes a swat at Bloodmace, who rolls out
of the way just in time to avoid being crushed by it's massive foot.
"People of Stonefist," The wyvern bellows, "give us
the other humans. We have no quarrel with you, don't let the doom of
these fools cause your death as well. We will spare you if you give
them up." Skyrock took but a moment to answer the scaly
interloper with laughter and a blast of fire that exploded from open
hands.
Bevar Sea,
riding in on a dark horse, reaping heads from the attendees. It might
have been the dark n' stormy cocktails making their magic, but this
band really got the crowd on its feet with their self titled album. The production on this second jam was much more tidy and the boys from Bangalore are in top form
with some crushing, bass heavy jams that, like Predicted, rely
heavily on the old Sabbath riffs for inspiration. I like their
facebook page.
From India came
Lives of The Noble Centonians Part 8.2 - Ripping Into Pieces
The battle exploded almost
out of nowhere. Within seconds of Cursebringer's repudiation of the
wyveren's claim to his guests, there was a brutal assault on the
stronghold. Wyverns came racing in from points unseen and hurled fire
at the humans streaming out from the patchwork castle,
slaughtering
many of the enemy almost instantly with their powerful moshbolts, the
stock in trade of the Urak peninsula magic users arsenal. Bloodmace
and Demon Scourge, back to back killed many of the invaders with
their enchanted weapons, their young hands shaking with fear and yet
guided by the hundred gods. One after another the mighty lizard
warriors were repelled by the insurgent humans. The sun was setting
on the rocky landscape and the horrible smell of death was beginning
to hover over the grounds of Castle Stonefist. "Come,"
motions skyrock, "let us remove ourselves to the gardens to
finish our discussion." Hellmaster, emerging from behind a
fallen wyvern, is wiping the blood from his gleaming blade and
replies, "Demon Scourge, Bloodmace and myself must depart. They
must meet with Zodron the Minstrel in Jenkabala, across the time
desert. The three companions climbed down the butte to the desert
floor and set off to cross the Time Desert as the sky burned blood
red. Skyrock looked out art the fading dots from the top of the tower
and turned to Birdblood. "Now it begins"
Fortunately for us, the best
was yet to come. Church of Misery, from Japan blasted through the
Nest of Evil, shaking the chandlers and cracking the plaster as
Birdblood and Maddaughter Tesa sparred with laser swords in the
ballroom. We listened to their 2001 opus, Master of Brutality and it
really swept the night. Here was the band we were looking for, an
aggregation that had a real psychedelic edge and like the peak of a
bad acid trip, the music dwells in the twilight world of nightmares
and blood. Leaving a trail of viscera and evil vibes, the Church of
Misery took the night in a stunning come from behind victory!
Words of the Elders
The circle is complete.
Demon Scourge and Bloodmace have set out on the path of fate. The
pieces are on the board and the game is afoot. This is the beginning
of the legend, a prelude to the legendary rule of the immortal
brothers who would bring together the tribes of Centon against this
evil tyrant!
We had been celebrating the
return of Bloodmace for seven days when Vecton the Bard burst fourth
from a mound of cocaine he had been making into an igloo, "Do
you realize it's metal night?" Wild eyed, he ran into the night,
returning with three albums from the sacred vault of hot licks.
Clearly, it was going to be a night of evil, a night of laughing
trees and wicked emperors, but above all a night of satan Satan
SATAN! As the gates creaked open and the flames licked the walls of
the sacred Jenkabala Temple we could hear evil laughter and smell the
sulfurous gasses escaping from the lair of the god of light. Charging
like Maciste into the underworld, swords drawn, we confronted...bands
with Satan in their name!
Noted NWOBHM stalwarts,
Satan tore up the early slot with the great riff that opens their
2013 album, Life Sentence. A good, balanced trad metal album with
really cool guitar harmonies throughout and a production that's just
lo-fi enough to make it sound rough in the right spots. Interestingly
enough the current incarnation is truly the classic lineup, right
down to the drummer, perhaps that accounts for their remarkably on
point recreation and refining of their original sound. Emperor
Bloodmace's pick for winner of the night!
Lives of the Noble Centonians Part 7.1 - Tears of Blood
Lady Steel had traveled many
miles to the southern tip of Centon. Her party trudged through the
bright, rocky landscape under an unrelenting sun. The stern warrior
had taken three of her high priestesses from their home on Mount
Trawston to meet her brothers, Bloodmace and Demon Scourge. There had
been talk of strange enemies in the northern forest unlike any they
had thus far encountered. Word had been sent to the mountain fortress
by way of bird messenger to meet at the home of Skyrock the
Cursebringer where information from every corner of the strange
continent
could be compared. The dwelling in question came into view
in the high noon sun. A great crooked mansion, sprawling and
mismatched sat impassively upon a far-off butte. Lady Steel motioned
with her hand and the party stopped to water the theeba and rest
before the final push to their destination. As the lizards long
tongues greedily slurped the water they were offered, the women
gather around their leader. Squinting her eyes a little, she
addresses them, "We will soon arrive. Be on your guard. whatever
force has penetrated the dimensional barrier may know about our
meeting and send spies or assassins. The monks in Villa Stonefist are
serious but trustworthy, but my brothers are not. I hear they have
lately taken residence in the old Jenkabala Castle with the other
relics of the north. Watch them closely, for they may try to steal
from us."
Metal from Hell by the
American thrash/power outfit Satan's Host was our second journey into
the darkness. Everyone in the room noted the diversity present in the
songwriting, moving from a thrash style that verged on black metal to
soaring power metal sections and galloping speed metal, the
composition and instrumental prowess easily overcame the muddy
production. I first heard this album a couple years ago when Jag
Panzer was the order of the day and I was hungry for anything with
Harry Conklin's gruff wail, so this is a favorite of mine. The
claustrophobic atmosphere of the recording and brain smashing tempos
work together to give this record a cool "underground" feel
that JP left behind after Ample Destruction. Recommended!
Lives of the Noble Centonians Part 7.2 - Siege Mentality
When Lady Steel and her
party reached the top of the rocky hill they beheld an iron gate
surrounding the hulking edifice that was home base for the faithful
brethren of Elom and their high priest, Skyrock. The palace before
them looked pieced together, one section with marble pillars and neat
lines, the next a ramshackle barn that was connected to a tall tower
of black stone. They approached the tattooed guards at the entrance,
muscle bound humans who stood impassively as the group of
cloaked
priestess stood before them , "What is your business here
strangers?" The statuesque leader of the group stepped forward,
"We are the envoy of Keep Trawston." pulling back the white
hood, she adds, "I am Lady Steel." The sentries cross their
arms before their chests and open the gate. The travelers cross the
grounds of the great house, a sprawling garden of edible plants in
raised beds. As they near the palace, Skyrock Cursebringer emerges
from one of the many doors that dot the front of the strange
fortress. His tousled blonde hair rises above the bronze crown atop
his head and wild eyes stare out from behind his high set cheekbones.
A scarf with human and animal bones is thrown around his neck. He
motions for them to follow and enters the stone tower. Up the spiral
stair they went, to a room at the very top of the dim passage.
Skyrock opens a heavy wooden door to reveal humans from every kingdom
gathered around an ancient looking sourwood table. Her brothers,
Bloodmace and Demon Scourge were there as well as Lady Birdblood,
Vecton the Bard and Hellmaster. "Welcome Sister," Says
Bloodmace, "Come sit with us, we have much to discuss."
Behind them the door latches shut, the council is in session...
Our final foray into devil
monikered bands was France's Satan Jokers and their album from 1983,
Les Fils Du Metal. This was by far the most old fashioned sounding of
all the music we sampled tonight. It's readily apparent where the
songwriting influences come from. A little Maiden and Priest here,
some Rainbow and Deep Purple there, in '83 there wasn't the dizzying
array of sub and sub-sub genres that bloom in the blood fertilized
gardens of metal today. In the early times, a metal band was a metal
band no matter if you were Slayer or Hanoi Rocks. That being said, I
found this album to be very listenable, recalling Blitzkrieg or early
Loudness.
Words of the Elders
What terrible mysteries are
afoot on the Centonian plains? Talk is spreading throughout the
villages of dark riders and slithering fiends that stalk the lonely
hinterlands when the wind howls and the moon casts its icy stare on
the wilderness below. A shadow has fallen over the land and as in
days of old, the heroes have come forward to beat off the invaders
with a firm hand.
Alas, I have returned from my journey to Inter-dimensional Whorehouse of Pancakes and shall now proceed to clean house. Gone are the smooth sounds of German hard rock. Gone are the power metal excursions. Darkness returneth with full force and resounding fury, but in a slow kind of way cuz my back hurts and I am old. Yup. We brunched the metal death/doom style!
Indeed, the mighty Bloodmace had returned from his adventure in the hell worlds of yon and just one short week later, we joined with Mistress Crowbastard and Vecton the Bard to explore metal from the Philippines. Not content to rest on our laurels with this task, we narrowed it down to the province of Cebu. A hot breeze blew into the sacred listening room and the skulls that festooned the walls began to glow and sing. Welcome to island hell, motherfuckers!
First up was a motherfucking classic gothic sludge fest in the form of My Dying Bride's debut As The Flower's Wither. This is an epoch crushing sad fest, and one of the heaviest albums in existence. The riffs here laid the foundation for the entire genre. Violin is sparsely yet effectively used, adding an interesting contrast the death metal vocals(which spew college student level dark romantic poetry), as My Dying Bride had not ventured into goth warbling as yet. Fast death metal tempos are employed now and then, so that you may hasten your suicide. Certified classic and the Winner of the Night, cuz I am the Judgement 'n' shit.
A Hero For The World started us off with some competent power metal, although none of the members seem to be Filipino. Despite their dubious background, the music was decent enough, made even better by the incredible shit show that followed. Stallions Of The Burning Church have a name that made me think we were about to hear some faux black metal Hot Topic bullshit but instead tore our minds with their sub-Black Crowes christian hard rock.
Next, Paradise Lost laid down the thickness on their debut, Lost Paradise. This is meat and potatoes death doom. Genre defining though it maybe, it lacks the elegance of the previous album, delivering old school death metal (with better lyrics than MDB) with slower tempos than usual. It's a great album, though, setting the riff style and basic grim atmosphere that Paradise Lost is known for and expended upon in subsequent albums.
Just when we started thinking there were no good bands in Cebu Province, a squall of feedback and gruff occult lyrics exploded from the speakers. The mighty Astrus came lurching out from the swampy depths of a diabolical marsh, demon swords blazing with impure fire. Things had started to look up for us, then Signos began to play. Fires exploded from the walls and the servants of twilight shambled out into view as the primitive death metal scorched our ears. Winner of the night!
And now for the dark horse. Mournful Congregation's Tears From A Grieving Heart is an elegant, well played funeral doom album that I really did not like. This was mainly because of the whisper vocals splattered through out the album, which I think is more lazy than atmospheric and simply annoys. If you are going to employ faggotty whispers on a fucking metal album, do so like Metallica did on Damage Inc, which was sparingly. Otherwise, you are just trying to be Marilyn Manson, resting your voice between screams because you just can't take it, because you'd rather be having sex with hamsters than laying down some mighty meaty metal vocals at full force and volume. Who cares if you get throat cancer!!!!!!!! Which is really disappointing because otherwise it's really good. But Demon Scourge digresses, and I must make mention that this was his winner of the night. And now I shall slay him with the tiny axe.
Words of the Elders On the western shore of Centon, near the kipet mines and the abandoned city, an old man wanders along the beach. His long robes make him seem a monk, but the icy madness behind his eyes shines like a warning beacon. When dusk settles over the ruins he begins to pipe his horrible tunes into the encroaching darkness. One night, as he was regaling the ocean with the lugubrious strains of an evil waltz, something flopped horribly on to the shore. It rolled toward him, a cloudy sac of organs and fluid motivating up from the water. The bizzare orginasim stopped before him and belched up a gilded box from a barely visible orifice on its side. Inside his head, the old man heard a deep voice, "The seven spikes of Necro Baby. You know what you must do."
Every now and again, there
comes a metal night that cruises smooth, like an iceberg drifting
silently along its deadly path, crushing all who defy it. This cold
October night was just that kind. The temple was filled with a warm
glow as Vecton the Bard arrived in his carriage and strode through
the great sourwood doors that led to the inner sanctum. Blazes were
lit in the hearth and offerings were made to the hundred gods. It was
decided that this golden twilight deserved some German hard rock to
see the boat of day into the ocean of night, so without further ado
we give you a peek at the mighty Cacumen!
I can't remember where I
first heard Cacumen, but the self titled first album from 1981 has
gotta be one of my most played albums to this day. The lyrics are
charming in the way that German bands seem to be so good at, the
riffs are monster and the vocal harmonies add just the right amount
of sheen. I can take or leave the slower tunes, but the rockers are
smokin'. Riding Away and On the Rocks, the two songs that close out
this obscure hit factory are beasts of Scorpions worship swagger and
questionable translation. Winner of the night by a landslide!
Lives of the Noble Centonians Part 6.1 - Magic Spell
The Heraea Agoge in
northern Samur was a dismal place, a fearsome kind of boarding school
that was forced on the women of the Samurian court. From a very young
age, the girls would become wards of the school, competing against
one another daily in war games and learning the dark secrets of their
people's magic. The cruel instructors routinely incited the pupils to
deadly violence against one another, for the very purpose was to
create warriors capable of defending their land from the T'Chah
Karnac and their servants, the Wyvern. To this end, generations of
northerners created and upheld this institution that provided them
safety in the form of the most fearsome army on Centon,
but at the
cost of their childhoods. By the time Nithsa Crowbastard reached
reached school age, the unthinkable had already happened. Samur had
been dominated first by the T'Chah Karnac, then later by the Wyvern.
Many ancient traditions were lost during this transitional period,
but the Heraea Agoge survived, a proud and scornful relic of times
past. Nithsa stared blankly out the window of the inn, watching the
fluffy snowflakes float gently to the ground, hands wrapped around a
rustic bone mug of marlyroot tea. She was on a journey home to meet a
family she barely knew, a ritual performed by all students the year
before they graduate. By rail the journey took one day, but the
station was down the mountain from the school and the only way to
reach it was by foot. Halfway down the rocky path lies the village of
Turig, a small, charming place where many of the teachers found
quarters. It was here that the pale young woman stopped to board for
the night. Through the thick, warped glass of the window, Nithsa
could see the path coming out of the woods, passing before the door
of the inn and disappearing again into the gloom of the mountain
pass. Down this narrow walkway came a hunched figure, cloaked in
black and carrying a woven basket of the same dark hue. Slowly, the
lurching traveler came to a halt before the window of the inn. When
the old man took off his hood and hat, she glanced briefly to the
side, in case he saw her looking, but when her eyes returned to the
window, he
was staring directly at her. When their eyes met, the
student saw a flash of bright light, followed by just a glimpse of
herself, much older, perched atop a great edifice of bleached bones,
staring out at the great mountains from some sort of throne room.
"Here's your porridge miss." A voice startles her out of
the waking dream and she looks up. The gray-haired innkeeper is
handing her a bowl of lapid porridge, topped with perfect slices of
hard cooked bafa egg and royal nectar cut into a fine dice. She
smiles silently at the middle aged woman, admiring the flowing
ruffles of her simple dress. "Will there be anything else?"
The lady of the house regards her anxiously and hurries off when
Nithsa shakes her head. When the black clad student turns to glance
out the window again, the man is gone.
Bad Widow, the second
full-length from the furious five, comes out swinging with the NWOBHM
style face melter, Ain't Got No Woman. The sound is very much more
metallic, the guitars more focused and aggressive. In my mind this
band can do no wrong and I like this one as much as the first. The
songs, though heavier sounding this time around, carry over the
smooth twin guitar riffage and sweet harmonies that make the first
one so listenable. The title track is a real highlight, with some
nice talkbox guitar throughout and You Are My Destiny makes me feel
like I'm at the roller rink in 1983. It is also of note that once
again they load up the end of the album with some of the faster,
heavier tunes. Now all I need is a cassette of it to jam in the
car...
Lives of the Noble Centonians Part 6.2 - Riding Away
The snow continued to drift
lazily from the gray sky above as Nithsa made her way down the pass
that morning. Although she was nearing the bottom of the mountain,
she was still high enough to get a good view of the plain that spread
out before the foothills below. She was stopped before one of these
little clearings, observing the tremendous birds wheeling in the sky,
when the little old man from that morning appeared, laboriously
making his way back up the trail. From beneath her hood, the curious
youngster made a closer examination of the strange character who
seemed to have transmitted some sort of vision to her. His clothes
were nothing more than rags sewn together into a rough cloak
comprising many layers of tattered fabric scraps. Atop his head,
however, sat a
magnificent wide-brimmed hat. Squared off at the top,
the band was made of interlocking metal circles, each with a rune
that even Nithsa, with her knowledge of magical symbols from all over
Centon, could not recognize. When the stranger had hobbled close
enough, he lifted his head. Radiant blue eyes shone out from the worn
face around them and she was hardly surprised when he began to
approach her. Peeking out from below the hat, the elderly wanderer's
mouth was moving, speaking something quietly. Nithsa could easily
have killed the suspicious stranger but she was curious about the
vision and his strange appearance. She readied a spell as the man
walked into striking range. "Gatemaster, gatemaster" The
haggard forest dweller whispered, "Gatemaster Crowbastard"
He did a shuffling circle dance before her. Her annoyance growing,
the dark-eyed Crowbastard intones gravely, "Fool! Who are you to
speak my name?" Her fingertips begin to tingle as she focuses
the magic. The beggar falls to his knees and lifts his hat off his
head in a gesture of submission, but as he looks up the blinding
flash strikes Nithsa again and she sees a tremendous crow flying into
the peaks of the Kradiken Socrat and a ghostly castle of bones where
phantom soldiers drifted in and out of bleached
turrets. The vision
of the throne room returns to her mind but this time, she is not
alone in the cavernous chamber. On the floor below the massive seat
of skulls, hundreds of white robed figures chant, "Gatemaster,
gatemaster" There is another flash and her vision returns. The
old man is still kneeling and he takes a feather pen from the band of
his hat. As the confused young woman takes hold of the black quill,
the bearer falls to the ground, struck by arrows. Behind him, in the
woods, the warrior's sharp eyes catch the sight of two sauron
archers, mounting deadly shafts on to their bows for her. Without
hesitation, her hand releases a bolt of energy that knocks the
lightly armored lizard men to the ground. In a flash Nithsa is upon
them. Perhaps if she had not been so hot tempered about the
interruption, she would not have just killed the interlopers, but the
deed was done and the perspicacious youth already knew what to do
with the feather. Drawing up her sleeve, she deftly marks out two
complex symbols and throws the instrument off the cliff before her.
Making percice motions with her fingers Nithsa Crowbastard closes her
eyes and pronounces "E'amat tercata! Serasarat!" Flying
above the valley, Crowbastard had a feeling she had never known
before and it terrified and exhilarated at the same time. She headed
north, up the mountains, following the inner compass that led her
into the snowy peaks, to the palace of the gatemaster.
Finally, we came to Cacumen's last album, the awesome Down To Hell. Magical fires were burning in the braziers and voices of the spirits guided us on the last leg of this journey into the B-side of Teutonic hard rock. Anthems of youth unheard,
strutting blues rock and dramatic heavy metal riffing were the bread
and butter of this great band and they delivered the goods in spades. Yes, they sound too much like their
more famous counterparts, but these guys have a knack for writing
songs in that style and frankly, having recently listened to the full
discography of those German giants, I can say that some of these tunes
out scorpion the Scorpions. A great night all around.
Words of the Elders
Behold, children of the
night, the glory of the moon and sky. Celebrate the glory of the
perfumed darkness where dreams and spirits collide with flesh in a
hothouse of strange fantasy. The skull throne sits there among the
peaks of the Kradiken Socrat, waiting for the one, the next
gatemaster. Hail Mistress Crowbastard, shape-shifting dweller at the
top of the world!
