Slaqughtering Void - Brutal Death Metal on the Island of Va

Let's me tell you about your fuckin' execution..........IT'S GONNA BE BRUTAL!!!!! No subtlety, no nuance, no pleasure. This will be about pulling your fuckin' intestines through your ripped pussy. Don't have a pussy? Well,  your ass pussy that I JUST FUCKED WITH A RAZOR DILDO will do just fine!!! There ain't gonna be no open coffin funeral motherfucker cuz there ain't no coffin. There is only the MAGGOTY MASS BURIAL in my basement. So let's load up the Winamp with some tunes, cuz it's BRUTAL DEATH METAL NIGHT AT JENKABALA!!!!!!!!!!

Krisiun's Conquerors of Armageddon is the sound of of the vanquishing of enemies, the personification of the forces of darkness reigning triumphant of over the battered shell of the earth as demons rape the angels in Satanic glory. It is unrelenting hellfire and brimstone. It is unrelenting fury. It's a pretty cool album, and a death metal classic, and along with bands like Nile and Cryptopsy, part of the ultra brutal wave of death metal influenced by the lightening speed of black metal, It was a much needed kick in the pants to the increasingly sluggish death metal scene. The thing that sets Krisiun above the rest is the clarity of attack, every riff crystal clear and devastating, but very rarely slows down, completely unrelenting. Nearly every beat is a blast beat. Everything is demonic fury. One may argue that makes this makes for somewhat one dimensional music. It is what it is. It is a literal wall of noise and a lesson in tasty riff craft.


 Adventure in Samur Part 7.1 - Tales of Mystery

The shore of the island Va, in the great Spirit Lake of Narn, was gleaming white in the dull afternoon light. Our craft maneuvered through the jungle of salt formations jutting up through the greenish water as we approached land. Lars the Berserker's longboat slid on to the alabaster beach and we climbed out at the rocky cliff face that rose up precipitously from the gently sloping beach. From above, Mistress Crowbastard glides down in her bird form. As the black crow stretches out its wings 

to land, she takes human form. "We must find the cave of lights," she intones, stretching out a black tipped finger in the direction of the cliffs. Lars nods, dismisses the phantom oarsmen and answers, "I know the place, Iron Dan comes this way often and he has shown me the cave himself." The fur clad Berserker leads us down the beach for a time, then we make our way between two boulders into the bottom of a canyon. Even though the blizzard was blowing with full force again, it was warm in the rocky passage and flowering vines covered the rocky walls that surrounded us. We walked single file down this strange grotto until Lars took a sharp turn into a stone staircase that led into the cliff. Our footfalls softened on the mossy carpet inside the cave and the air was damp and sweet. From the ceiling hung fine, glassy stalactites that lit the way with a purple glow. as we approached the end of the passage, the smell of cooking reached us first, then the sound. Echoing off the walls we could just barely discern the tune of the classic chant, In league with Satan.

Next, we heard Skinless' first album, 1998's Progression Towards Evil. At this stage in the game, Skinless is your basic cookie cutter brutal death metal band in the Suffocation and Cannibal Corpse mode. Deep guttural vocal slices, down tuned guitar work. This is not a technical masterpiece, and their charm lies in the (forgive me) blood and guts; deep guttural vocal slices, deep down tuned guitar work, and a few slam breakdowns here and there. Songs like 'Tampon Lollipops' and 'Fetus Goulash' bring the lulz, with lyrics like:

"Ralph the janitor enjoys his job 
He sweeps and mops up the garbage and crud 
While alone at night he searches for goodies 
He goes into every room hoping 
and praying that someone is flowing 
Discarded plastic applicators in the bathrooms 
left behind by fertile young chicks."

These dudes care not for life. Their later material is tighter and more polished, but still cookie cutter stuff. You'll either love it or hate it.


Adventure in Samur Part 7.2 - Power of Hunter

We entered the place through a small opening at the end of the faintly luminescent tunnel. It was a huge cavern with an opening to the sky at the center. Dwarfed by the massive scenery, we made our way in the direction of the voices. We passed through a series of paths that led us down into the jungle of ghostly white salt deposits until we came to the shore of a small lake directly under the aperture on the ceiling. There, waiting for us to arrive was Parthon the Elder, father of Iron Dan. He 

stands among the low, scrubby brush we see everywhere near the gently lapping water. Though white, his hair maintains a sprightly curl that accentuates his cherubic face. His robes are white and there is a thick rope tied around his waist. He motions to us and begins to speak, "Hello all! Hello Lars" The stern tribesmen nods solemnly. "Ah yes, I know of your village. Be strong son, we are walking the last miles now" His hand reaches out to grasp the Berserker's shoulder. Now he turns to us, "Can you smell the Tot? My minions are cooking it as we speak. Soon the Memporian will rise to eat it and we must be there so that the four of you can transport to Dantor and finish this battle once and for all. Come, come let us go" We follow the old man to his little boat and cram inside. He hoists the sail and waves his hand. The limp sail fills with phantom wind, propelling us across the lake to a little island in the middle. We climb from the boat to the shore and there, in a gaping fire pit we behold the largest tater tot we have ever seen, golden hide sizzling in the heat of the embers. Bloodmace turns to me and says "We truly have reached the end of this world, brother." 

Necrophagist's Epitath was the winner of the night. While still in the brutal death vein, it is far from cookie cutter. The level of musicianship here is staggering, and when blending in the confines of brutal death with a crystal clear production, the effect is staggering. Crushing riffs and lightening fast guitar solos, tricky rhythmic progressions, this is classical music for headbangers. Amazingly, this album has a polarizing effect on many. Some fault the ultra necro vocalizing, while others find it too highbrow and showy. I find it to be a fully realized masterpiece, an amazing piece of music that also satisfies on a visceral level. If you can handle the necro vocals, this is a rewarding listen.


Words of the Elders
The eyes of Centon have turned north, beyond the peaks of the Kradiken Socrat to the black spritual dimension that is Narn, forbidden gateway to the multiverse. There awaits Headron of Dantor, towering titan of terror. The only thing that can stop him from turning Centon into a resort for intergalactic travelers is the fearless four, armed only with the enchanted battle jackets of their people. The Memphorian has been summoned! Let the horns of battle souind from every dimension!
 
Until next week, mavens of mayhem, 



Horns

Astral Rider - NWOBHM hijinks and the Great Spirit Lake

Put down the spikes and chains and your bloody vengeance against the Christ!!!! Stop raping the necro baby for once! Pick up some beers and listen to some NWOBHM with us, dude!!!!!!!

Cloven Hoof's A Sultan's Ransom is one of the reasons why Metal Night exists; to discover obscure gems like this. Released in 1989, and thoroughly out of style by that time, and despite a shitty album cover and lackluster production, this album out-Maidens Iron Maiden's output at the time. The songs are clear, concise, and somewhat poppy, with a dash of Dokken in the vocal work and Jake E. Lee era Ozzy in the guitar work. Songs like Silver Surfer and Astral Rider are shiny gems that might have been considered classics had this album been released in 1982 instead of the heyday of thrash and condemned to haunt the bargain bins of yore. Damn shame. Winner of the night!

 Adventure in Samur Part 6.1 - Into the Veil

The Spirit Lake was misty as our long boat cut through the cold water, its carven bow guiding us through the strange waters like a dragon flying through the clouds. At the helm was Lars the Berserker, his long beard crystallized in the frozen mist. His robes whipped in the wind, revealing the denim and leather armor of our ancestors. Bloodmace and I were huddled on one of the benches directly behind the captain. Behind us, Lars' phantom oarsmen rowed. The rough barbarian turned to us and spoke, "Do not look too closely into the lake, for it is not simply water, but a living being that hungers for souls. Without your skins, anything could happen." Indeed, it was strange not being in my body. Bloodmace and I had to discard our physical forms back in northern Samur, when Mistress Crowbastard transported us here. It certainly didn't feel like we had no bodies, we didn't look any 

different to one another, but I felt it as a dreamy weightlessness. Magic is much stronger here than in the temporal world, as we discovered in our last battle. Lars turns to us and speaks again, "We reach Va in one of our days. We will have to camp on one of the islands." He produces a tauriat from inside his robe. "This works just like the ones back on Centon, we will look for an island that has not been enchanted by Headron. Be ready for danger, I know this lake well, it spit my people onto that spectral shore when the Wyvern elders banished us at the beginning of their epoch." With darkness closing around us, Lars the Berserker removes one of the buttons on the pocket flap of his denim and tosses it into the air. Slowly a light dawns over us, illuminating the area around us with a yellowish glow as we plunge into the darkness like a steel blade through scented flesh.

 I fucking hate Def Leppard's Hysteria. What a soulless blot on the scrotum of the metal, every tone underlining it's pure sonic maggotry. But, I will not turn this review into a review of that album and I will not judge it by the evil perpetrated by that cum stain upon music. Def Leppard's first album, On Through The Night, is an enjoyably light and breezy slab of NWOBHM goodness. This is just a loud and catchy hard rock album, nothing more and nothing less. Wine, women, song, good times, the folly of youth, and rock n roll dreams. My pretentious ass, so rooted in the dark and experimental, tried but simply could not hate this album. I found myself, fueled by alcohol, bellowing along to 'Hello America' quite enthusiastically. That's what it's all about. It's not a screaming iron fest, just fun. Three albums later(Hi & Dry and Pyromania are classics), they became complete shit for the rest of their career.


 Adventure in Samur Part 6.2 - Master of the Stones

For what seemed like an eternity, we headed towards a mammoth shape on the horizon. When we finally slid onto the rocky beach, the light that was surrounding us went out and we used our Dio patches to light our way up the rocky incline leading to a cave at the base of the cliff. As we approached the yawning egress, Lars held up his hand for us to stop and held his hand to his ear. I could just barely make out a sound. We crept slowly into the the cave. Ahead there was a light and I could now make out the unholy melody of Witch's Sabbath. Just as we passed into the cavern, there was a footfall behind us. At once the three of us whirled to see the great crow, wings outstretched, 

beak slashing towards our party. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a bolt of energy burst from Bloodmace's denim as he and Lars tumble to the rocky ground. Laughter echoes around us and the bird disappears. Dusting myself off, I reach for my jacket to light the room again, but a fire flares up nearby I can just make out a familiar figure. Lars and Bloodmace spring up, ready for action. Mistress Crowbastard is still chuckling as we approach her near the fire. She motions to us to follow down further into the passage. We venture further, reaching the source of the music and light we saw earlier. We have arrived in a small room with a makeshift altar of bones and silver. A fire blazes in a small hearth to one side, on the other there are several greenish stones emitting a dim glow. Emperor plays in the background as she speaks, "Sorry if my little joke startled you. I have finished my other business and I know you will need some help when you get to Va, so I though I would just meet you here. Lars, you already know what to do with the shapti stones," she turns and addresses us, "you two, you will not be able to sleep without your bodies, but these stones will renew your power." Lars puts his hands upon the weird stone and it begins to glow brighter and slowly his body disappears. "Go into the stone," she says, "You will need all the power you can muster for tomorrow." When I put my hands on the smooth surface, a warm feeling rushes over me as I flow into the cosmos.

Samson, if you didn't know, was the band Bruce Dickinson was in before Iron Maiden, when he had the daft moniker, Bruce Bruce. They had a goofy drummer who wore a bondage mask and played in a cage. Their image was playfully glam in an era of denim and leather, which may be the reason the never really took off, relegated to the second tier of otherwise fine NWOBHM bands. Their 1980 album, Head On (their first with Dickinson), is blues rockin' thing, kind of like Fog Hat with an opera singer. Songs like Vice Versa hint at ol' Bruce's future with Maiden. This album is a nice warm up to their classic Shock Tactics album. Worth a few listens.

 Words of the Elders

What fire burns inside the seeker? What quest drives one further on after the dark has come and the cold chills their bones? No one can know that fire that singes the minds of the wan and feeble beings of the physical world, so fragile and yet so tenacious in their determination to master what they cannot even begin to understand. Wolf I call to you, spirit of the lightning in the sky, hear me! Waves splash on both sides of the lake's surface, and even the sleek longboat cannot hide long from the deep, watery being that holds these specks of land in its bosom...

Until next week, titans of stone and steel, 

Horns

Ketchup post 4 - Crusty Grind and Old Time Metal

Jagged Pustules of Forbidden Doom. Shards of Glass Up Your Ass. The Broken Dreams of a Tortured Underclass. Poseurs Die In The Charnal Room. It's catch-up night at Jenkabala Palace, dude, with Demon Scourge covering classic metal and myself wallowing in the filth of crust metal.

Crust punk is the direct ancestor of grindcore. It is an uncomplicated genre, featuring big but simple riffs, speed, a gnarly, fuzzed up guitar sound and left wing political sloganeering. We looked at some bands that could be called proto grindcore; bands that informed the spaztic blurr of what would be called the world's most extreme form of music, but still had one foot in crust punk. Also, these bands are incredibly British. Also, all these albums were released in the 80's. Also, go watch your mother have sex with Satan.

Discharge is the grand daddy of all grindcore and their first album, Hear Nothing See Nothing Say Nothing, is the genome of a million clone bands. They were the punk band that hardly any punks could get into, instead to be embraced by thrashers like Metallica and Anthrax, who covered their songs. Their songs are structured simply; based around shouted slogans, big riffs, and the D-beat, which is basically the blast beat at half speed. There is a special filthy aura that surrounds this highly influential album. Do not go here looking for fancy time changes and nimble fingered solos. Go here for primal raw power and outrage. This was Demon Scourge's pick for winner.


The next album, Bolt Thrower's In Battle There Is No Law, is the most blatantly metal of the three album. This is death metal that got lumped in with grindcore because of the pure white fury of the riffs and the primitive fury of the attack. The D-beat is quite evident, though many song shifting between blast beats and the crust punk staple. The songs, though a bit complicated for punk,  definitely have a crusty feel to them, and the bargain basement production values enhance. But the riffs are on horse steriods. My pick for winner, dude. I am the Judgement.


The last album, Doom's Total Doom, was the most grindy album of the night. It's basic hardcore with an incredibly filthy, sludgy feel. D-beats abound, the vocals are gruff and guttural, the lyrics political, outraged, and pessimistic. At over an hour long, this album drags, and the repetitive nature of the songs grate. But in short doses, this is the shot of trailer park meth that gets you going in the morning.

So I am (as you all know) a fan of the old-fasioned metal. I love the D&D imagery of the first metal blade bands and the razor sharp harmonies of classic speed metal. Don't get me wrong, I love death and black metal too, I can dig some good shred or grindcore, but if you come to my house you are far more likely to hear Savage Grace or Liege Lord than Watain. This was a night of metal comfort food, the meat and potatoes masters from days gone by, so withouit further ado...LET'S PARTY

Brocas Helm - Black Death
Here we have one helluva record. If you know Brocas Helm, you know that they are one of the most long-lived stalwarts of the underground metal scene. This, their second full length, is full of Cali thrash riffage with a real old school flavor, serving up tales of demons, wizards and nuclear war with a side of twin guitar harmonies to finish you off. I would group this band together with Manilla Road and Cirth Ungol as representing a kind of alternate musical universe for US metal where the more traditional Euro-style exists side by side with bay area thrash. I really like the gang vocals on Prepare for Battle and the strange, chaotic samples in Hell's Whip. The story goes that this album was supposed to come out in 1985, but due to disagreements with their label, First Strike, the band ended up releasing it themselves three years later. Who knows, perhaps people would have been more accepting of their style in those days, but their decision to blaze their own trail through the glory days of glam metal and grunge allowed them to develop their own unique sound. It is criminal that this band was never given their due given the quality of the first two albums, but you can hear their influence in Slough Feg, Hammers of Misfortune  and other weirdo San Fran metal that followed in their wake. Let us simply thank the gods of metal that this tremendous trio saw fit to bless us with this music and that witch (hopefully) is to come.

Artillery - By Inheritance 
I gotta say, I really love this Artillery album. These guys have hella chops and singer Flemming Rönsdorf busts it out with one of those great gruff yet polished vocal styles. You can really feel the aftershocks of the great thrashquake of the late 80's in the polished production. This style was dominant in the years of ...And Justice For All, State of Euphoria, and So Far So Good...So What. The lyrical themes explored on By Inheritance are far more in tune with the times than the other two albums we sampled. Anti war rants, indictments of society, a surprising anti-Kohmani tirade and assorted paeans to revenge and other tough guy subjects. I would describe the tunes as thrash metal with a splash of hard rock to spice up the pot (their decision to include a cover of a Nazareth song is telling.) This is most definatly a guitar lover's album, with brothers Mort and Michael Stutzer deploying  an arsenal of devastating riffs, strafing the landscape with tight, technical playing. This is just a great thrash album that should be more known, I declare it the winner of the night!

Dark Wizard - Reign of Evil
Wait, how did these guys get in here? This album, while not the most astounding musicaly, is a pretty fun outing. They travel the same bloodstained medieval road that Brocas Helm does, but their music is a much more hard rock/NWOBHM variety of Tolkien inspired madness. Vocalist Berto Van Veen steals the show here, hamming it up in broken english like Sir Laurence Olivier in Clash of the Titans. He must have been quite a frontman, I noticed that one website suggests that their stage show featured characters called Mr. Nice and Doctor Doom, who came out of coffins (?) The same source also claims he "went crazy" and "joined a religionist cult." Make of that what you will, but one thing is for sure, his over the top personality lifts this album from mediocre to listenable. 

Until next week, sultans of steel,


Horns