Kicking off the night was The Priest ofSatan by The Black. This is meat and potatoes black metal, necro
right down to its toenails. The songs are concise and chaotic, with
few clocking in above the three minute mark. I appreciated the dense
and treble heavy production that had just the right amount of
"atmosphere" (AKA cheesy synth strings filling out the
arrangement) to keep my ears engaged. Special points go to the tune
After my Prayers, for the wolf howls in the beginning. Arriving on
the scene in 1994 via the US based Necroplis Records (R.I.P.) this
was an early entry in Sweden's second-wave black metal scene and
seems to be well regarded, if a bit obscure. Highlights from this album would be the title track, Lady Lilith, and Towards the
Golden Dawn. I loved this album, but Hellmaster was extremely skeptical, especially after completely cutting the treble on the Thrashstone sound system, only to find that there was no escape from satan's own frequency.
slithers up
on the shore, revealing four stout legs and a spiky tail that
splashes about in the shallow water. Speaking in a voice so low that
it seems to rise from the ground, the tremendous creature
Adventure in Samur Part 9.1 - To Give Death
From the lake before us there is a
sudden, violent disturbance. The cold water explodes on to the bank,
sizzling in the fire and covering us in a damp spray as a majestic
reptilian head, perched atop a long scaly scaly neck bursts up from
below the calm lake. The creature's radiant skin appears to be made
of gold or some kind of metal. Two green crystal eyes glow in the
recesses of its wide, glittering face and steam pours fourth from the
horse like nose where dewy moisture collects on gilt whiskers.
Parthon the elder rises and addresses the giant in a booming voice,
"Oh great Memporian, allow these travelers passage to the realm
of Dantor" The lake dweller's eyes fix upon the wizened mystic
for a moment, then the great maw descends upon the roasting tot,
launching shards of molten potato into the air with the force of its
chomp. Chewing thoughtfully for a moment, the Memporian
slithers up
on the shore, revealing four stout legs and a spiky tail that
splashes about in the shallow water. Speaking in a voice so low that
it seems to rise from the ground, the tremendous creature
addresses
Parthon with a series of rumbling tones. Eyes closed, fingertips to
his temples, Parthon listens intently. The Memporian turns its
sparkling eyes on our party and when the glittering orbs fix upon me,
it feels like the amphibian has sent a cold tentacle probing in my
brain. To each of us in turn he explores our minds, then turns back
to Parthon. His voice begins to describe a tune, the famous old hymn,
Lysol. Parthon is caught up in a rhapsody, a beatific look upon his
aged face. When the Memporian is finished speaking, he goes back to
eating the tater tot. The villagers have returned to their huts and
the fire pit is filled with smoking embers. At our table, an
apprehensive silence has descended. Parthon remains at the shoreline,
looking up at the opening in the top of this cavern that leads to the
Narn sky and beyond, to Dantor. Bloodmace is first to break the
silence, "So is it yes or no? We cannot wait here forever."
Lars turns and answers sharply, "Watch your tongue, Parthon will
answer when it is time." Mistress Crowbastard looks on
impassively, as always, from beneath her inky bangs. Bloodmace,
incredibly, holds his temper and gulps down the last of the ale in
his cup, shooting a dirty look across the table at Lars. Parthon
turns and walks over to us. He smile a little and says, "Calm
down, young ones. The Memporian will take you as far as Tauric Ridge,
walking distance to Dantor. You will climb down the ridge and make
camp in the hills just before the keep. Bloodmace and Demon Scourge
will summon a legion of Orcs with the Bolt Thrower patches. During
the confusion, you must slip into the castle and finish Headron."
There is a moment of stunned silence around the table, not because of
anything unexpected in what Parthon has said to us, but the reality
of our responsibility that is starting to come into focus.
Riding in on a dark stallion, I DetGlimrande Mörkrets Djup (google translated as "In the Dazzling
Darkness' Depth") by Sorhin was kickin' our asses from the first
bombastic riff. The jump in production value was noticeable right
away. These guys definitely sound more Gothenberg than Grieghallen.
The more complex riffing on this album, along with the almost
constantly blasting, yet extremely tight rhythm section (featuring
Zathanel from genre stalwarts, Setherial on drums) were much loved by
both Hellmaster and Lars the Berserker. This was a really great
album, a photo realistic painting of icy grimness comprising
thousands of musical brushstrokes executed with an acumen that made
the first offering seem a little like a blurry tintype. We had our
first serious contender, but would they be able to withstand the
swirling vortex that was to be the final assault on our ears?
Adventure in Samur Part 9.2 - Crossing Spheres of Fire
Snow drifts lazily down the portal
above, illuminated by the steady gray light that filters through from
the outside. The Memporian is chewing the last shreds of potato and
regarding us curiously, with its head cocked to one side. The golden
wings on its back flex a bit and the aquiline face turns upwards then
descends gracefully into the water. Parthon rushes out from his domed
hut carrying a large burlap sack with both arms. When he reaches us,
he tosses the satchel upon the table and breathlessly says, "you
can wear these cloaks to hide the magic from your jackets until you
are ready to use them. Without these, Headron would be able to sense
you the moment you entered his domain." Behind us, the golden
lizard begins to click out as deep rhythm. Deep, syncopated notes
appear over this sound and when the gruff scream of what would be the
guitar part of the obscure chant Walls of Yawn erupts, we know the
time has come. The four of us break into a run and leap upon the back
of the shining beast whose wings are already beginning to create a
deep impression in the physical surroundings. Rock and water bend and
fold as the wings gather up the dimensional membrane that surrounds
each reality like a heavy organic curtain. everyone is struggling to
put on the black garments before our guide breaks through to Dantor.
Just as I get my arms through the sleeves, the heavy gel-like
atmosphere inside the barrier envelops us. Flattened to the rough
back of this behemoth, I cannot see if everyone else got to suit up.
Craft's 2011 disc, Void, is one we have
discussed previously here at Castle Thrashstone, as it was one of
Bloodmace's top ten of the year. Tonight it was here to put its
spiked boot upon the necks of its competitors. The crew really dug
the thrashier vibe of this album, as we had all downed a couple beers
at this point. With a gulf of more than ten years separating Void
from the other releases, you can really hear the difference. On
Priest of Satan and I Det Glimrande Mörkrets Djup, the riffs and
arrangements were extremely orthodox, witch was de rigueur in the
90's. In the intervening years, however, the genre has taken on a
raft of new influences and the Craft album showed that off neatly.
From the sliding, atonal guitars of the slow n' heavy Leaving the
Corporal Shade to the bay area meets Bayreuth sturm und drang thrash
of Serpent Soul and The Ground Surrenders, this album was something
of a departure from the first two thirds of the evening. The change
was welcomed though, our ears were weary of the treble filled screech
stew of the other bands. Craft was about to sew up the night when
Emperor Mytoc of Jarn and Lars the Berserker formed an alliance to
support Sorhin as winners of the night. A fierce battle followed and
blood was spilled upon the Thrashstone listening chamber once again.
When the dust settled, we had our champions, the mighty Sorhin!
Behold Sorhin, the lords of Swedish black metal
night!
Words of the Elders
On to Dantor! The terrible battle for Jenkabala is about to begin and so the magic starts to accumulate around the spirit world. Take care, O children of Earth, for the beast wanders free in the forest tonight and you can hear the mighty wind in the sourwood trees. Ladies and Lords who watch over the mutliverse, hear our supplication! Great gods of field and forest, listen now to the cries of your children, for beloved Centon is in danger.
Until next week time riders,
Horns
Until next week time riders,
Horns
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