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!
Moonshine, white lightnin', blind man's booze. Welcome my friends to the end of the liquor universe. Tonight we sampled some delights to come, that is to say we listened to Vital Remains, who we are about to see at the legendary Pyramid Scheme here in our sleepy burg. We also explored Integrity and Manilla Road, who I will be checking out at this year's Maryland Deathfest this weekend. Bloodmace and I, along with our new compatriot Vecton the Bard journeyed deep into cherry flavored madness to bring you this report. Behold now, gentle readers, the swirling vortex that is METAL fucking NIGHT!
Manilla Road's 1987 opus, Mystification started things off on a high note. This was an important release for the (already) veteran band, as the thrash metal elements in their music came to the fore. They had flirted with the punkish sounds of metal's red-haired stepchild since the very first album but with Mystification they really went the full nine yards. The grace and majesty of their US power
metal days blends seamlessly with the harder and faster sounds of west coast trash and the band scores another flawless victory in their unbelievably prolific and influential career. Reflecting on the times when we have evaluated this banbd's other albums, two things always come up. One, they are criminally underrated and two, the singer/guitar player, Mark Shelton's voice is an acquired taste. I would put fourth that getting used to Mr. Shelton's nasal shriek is simply the toll that must be paid in discovering one of metaldom's greatest treasures
Adventure in Samur Part 12.1 - Malevolent Invocation
The entrance leads down a flight of
concrete stairs and through a hallway where florescent lights buzz
overhead. Bright primary color doors line the sides of the passage at
regular intervals, each bearing an obscure symbol like the ones we
saw in Keep Trawston. Jarkon motions to Bloodmace and I, who are
carrying Mistress Crowbastard between us, to enter one of the side
rooms. The bright red panel gives way to reveal a room with a simple,
low wooden bed and plain chair. We deposit our shape shifting
compatriot on to the mattress and turn to Jarkon, but before we can
question our benefactor, Lars the Berserker has burst in from the
hall and declares, "Jarkon! Youi remember your people on the shores of the Spirit Lake? They are dead. Slaughtered by one of
your creatures." A dangerous rage begins to glow in the eyes of
the vengeful warrior and Jarkon's hand moves to his laser pistol.
By the time Vital Remains' debut, Let Us Prey echoed through the halls of Jenkabala Palace, the moonshine had taken its toll. Bloodmace had destroyed the west wall with his mighty stroke and Vecton the Bard was slamming chloraseptic and port shots, chasing them with beer. The year this album came out was 1992 and death metal was the order of the day. Vital Remains had been active since the late 80's and this album was well received by fans hungry for the next brutal masterpiece to issue fourth from the fetid black earth that was the east coast DM scene at the time. Bloodmace, being the old school death metal fan that he is, was immediately transfixed in transports of gleeful fury as the Rhode Island maniacs unleashed waves of thick, evil riffs punctuated by bursts of the atmospheric synth n' samples intros and outros so beloved to this genre. As for Vecton and I, who are power metal fans to the core, there was appreciation for the nice twin guitar work and interesting (if long) song structures. Looking forward to checking these guys out on Thursday!
Adventure in Samur Part 12.2 - Valley of Unrest
Lars continues, "Now you pay
traitor!" Lars' mighty arm swings the ferocious cudgel at the
mysterious hill dweller but Jarkon sidesteps his blow and yells out
to us all, "Your friend is about to die!" Undeterred, the
terrible shoresman brings down another blow, but again but his nimble
opponent is too fast for him. Bloodmace and I jump on Lars and are
just barely able to restrain him
for a moment, long enough for Jarkon
to finish his deceleration, "We can save her but we will need
the power of the denim and leather" The red faced barbarian is
not convinced, "Traitor! You want your master to be able to
locate us. Now you die!" Breaking away from our grip, Lars
leaps across the room, this time landing a blow squarely upon Jarkons
side, our host doubles over and falls to the ground. Lars prepares
for his death blow but Jarkon, with impressive accuracy, sends out
two bolts from his rusty laser pistol. One grazes the Berserker's
hand, the other hits him in the chest, deflecting off his leather
armor but knocking him back against the opposite wall. As each
warrior takes a moment to recover, an inky black crow flies into the
room and lands upon Mistress Crowbastard's chest. Bloodmace, in a
stern voice says, "Enough, fools! You see that her spirit is
about to be transported away as we speak? She would already be lost
to us if Jarkon had not intervened. We do as he says."
If any band might make me dip my toes in the murky stew of hardcore, groove and thrash that is metalcore, it would be Integrity. Here is a band that plays to my ears. When we jammed Seasons the Size of Days last night the air was a haze of booze and laughter, the music floated into the air without consequence, but upon the second go round I caught on to the twisted essence of this strange band. A great listen that I highly recommend.
When the dust settled, however, the winner was...
Manilla Road!
All hail the champions of metal night!
Words of the Elders Beware children of the sun, for the black stone wielder follows close at your heels! Time has come for our heroes to decide what path to take in this strange spirit world. Turmoil reigns among them, will Bloodmace hold the band of four together in the danger zone or will Headron's forces swoop down upon them, crushing them as so many ants? Death to false grooviness! Death to the pale riders! Our cutlasses are true and shall slice you to the quick in the hour of chaos!
Believer's 1990 opus Sanity Obscure is a blazing technical thrashterpiece, a trend setting motherfucker at the beginning of a decade of trend setting motherfuckers. Lumped in with the death metal hordes due to their ferocity, Believer were convincing enough to keep thrash metal alive when the scene was dying and bloated. Also, can you believe this a Christian metal album, and were actually on Christian Metal label Rexx Records before getting picked up by Roadrunner, which was a cool record label back in the day before they started making tons of money by sucking cocks all day long. Plenty of impressive thrashing, supplemented by some obscure chordage and weird time signatures here and there. The end of the album has a huge progressive classical genre fuck featuring violins, which in 1990 only Celtic Frost had ever done before they went into dick sucking mode. Clearly, these dudes were smoking weed in the back of the church bus. Great album, but not the winner.
Adventure in Samur Part 11.1 - Enter the Turmoil Mistress Crowbastard is lying on the
dusty ground in human form when Bloodmace and I arrive. Nearby, Lars
the Berserker leans against the massive form of his quarry, exhausted
from the trance of violence from witch he has just emerged. the shape
shifting guardian lifts her head and speaks to us in a quiet voice,
"We have to get out of here, there are more of those things on
the way." Bloodmace and I look apprehensively around us. There
are no signs yet of the other mounted attackers, but we know
it won't
be long. Lars the Berserker has ambled towards us and takes a seat on
the ground. I look around and say, "I think we can find shelter
in some of those caves we saw from the air, they should be just a
short hike from here, then we can decide what to do. Let's find the
Memporian and..." Looking around I can see that the beast has
disappeared. "Shit" I say "we gotta get out of here,
let's try that hill over there, we can at least get a good vantage
point and locate the enemy." We help Crowbastard to her feet and
trudge over the short distance to the hill. The arid landscape
contains many strange, spiny plants growing low to the sandy ground,
their woody appendages clawing at the heavy air. Crowbastard can
walk, but the side of her cloak is wet with blood and though I can
sense the great pain she must be in the injured magic user still
stoops to pick some unusual leaves and bark for her conjurations.
For the second album, we heard Cerebral Fix's 1990 thrashsterpiece Tower of Spite. You know, I thought we were going to be listening to some technical thrash. This is just some thrash sprinkled with a few blastbeats here and there. So there goes the whole fucking theme of the night! Fuck it. The lyrics are occult centered and stay on the death side of things. The tempos vary enough, the riffs are heavy enough to keep it interesting, and the band doesn't really sound like anyone else. It's a good album, and will satisfy whatever death thrash cravings you may be having at the moment.
Adventure in Samur Part 11.2 - Wisdom's Call
We soon mount the hill and look out for
signs of our opponents on the horizon. Indeed, across the desolate
landscape, I can see a group of five warriors headed our way. Lars
growls and grips his club, ready for battle and declares, "I am
ready to meet the fathers. Let us crush these bastards!"
Bloodmace, full of his own barbarian fire, holds his signature weapon
to the sky with a terrible shout. Just as both of them are about
to run down the hill to glory, a voice comes from behind us, "Stop! There are more of them waiting to ambush those who attack now!"
Whirling around, we behold a
lean figure, clad in denim and leather.
Under the hood that peeks out from the heavy jacket, a skull printed
cloth covers most of his face. Mounted atop his nose are a pair of
glasses fitted with two moving lenses that whir softly as they adjust
while he speaks, "I am Jarkon, of the hillfolk. Parthon the
Elder has told me of your quest. Come now, before..." Just as he
is about to finish, two laser bolts slam into the side of the hill,
pelting us with dirt and rocks. Jarkon motions to us and we grab the
now unconscious Mistress Crowbastard, walking her down the hill
behind the faceless stranger. I can hear the heavy footfalls of the
lumbering mastodons coming closer as our guide peels back a portion
of the hill to reveal a doorway witch we all hurry through as the
skeletal warriors flood the hilltop, the clicking syllables of their
language creating a rhythmic cacophony above u
Words of the Elders And so the life of Mistress Crowbastard hangs in the balance. What terrible trials await our band of heroes in the outer world? Will the ever watching Lord Headron discover their plan before the four renegades put him out of business for good? Things are changing fast in Centon and beyond, powers once dormant are now awakening in their faraway castles and on some distant shore a lone raven heralds the new day.
Some things are eternal, like the sun, like waffles, like leather. And like Judas Priest. Priest are the Beatles of Heavy Metal, and not overrated like them either, but ever changing, but forever written into the collective unconscious by unseen hands. On this Metal Night, Demon Scourge, VectonThe Bard, and myself make the required sacraments and unleash the Metal Gods upon the bleeding earth.
In order to get into the proper mindset to fully appreciate the first album we heard, 1984's Defenders of the Faith, we must travel back in time to the summer of that hallowed years. Your older brother is pissed. He was in a bad mood, anyway, since this new project he called a 'meth lab' blew up in his face. But he discovered that his soon to be mightily worn cassette of Defenders of the Faith is missing. Now the only thing he has to listen to is Quiet Riot and 38 Special, his only other two
cassettes, since he took his record collection to the pawn shop last Thursday. And he knows you have it, since he left it in the cassette deck of his Chevy Nova and you have stolen his car. You are
currently riding the roads, guzzling PBR's(when it was just a cheap beer and not an ironic hipster non-statement) with that bitch What's Her Name, relishing the dirt weed buzz from the stash that your brother also left in the fucking car. Soon, That Bitch is gonna give you head in some secluded parking lot. You have timed it so that 'Eat Me Alive' will be playing while she swizzles your stick. Your brother may be a dick, but at least he has good taste in music. Defenders is a sweet fuckin' album, though not as good a Screaming For Vengeance. A lot of kick ass, hard edged songs, kinda cheesy, but in the way you like it. Life is good, dude. Your brother is gonna beat the living shit out of you when you get home, so you gotta learn to appreciate moments like these. He's a secret fag, anyway, so he won't be breakin' no bones.
Adventure in Samur Part 10.1 - Rock Hard, Ride Free When the great pop that heralds our
incursion into the next dimension splits our ears we behold the deep
purple sun that blazes above the rocky and desolate Dantorian
landscape. when I look around me I can see that everyone, thankfully,
was able to don the magical garments in time. We are not far above
the ground when we come through and the great beast quickly descends
to the ground, breaking into a run as it lands. Lars yells out,
"Everybody hang on, it's about to get rough!" Clenching
tight to the sharp metallic skin of the Memporian, I look ahead of us
to see a towering black shape moving quickly towards us. In the dark
purple light I can just make out two tusks protruding out from under
a charcoal colored trunk. The body is similar to that of an elephant,
but with long black hair that cascades from its back down almost to
the mammoth feet. The beast's beady eyes, set close together in it's
enormous head, shone out at us with a frightening intensity. Atop the
mount on the beast's back stands a skeletal warrior, clutching a
gleaming cutlass. With a jerk of the reigns, the ghostly mastodon
lifts its great ears to reveal two laser cannons. The Memporian leaps
quickly into the air with surprising grace, the first volley just
barely glancing off its golden tail as it takes to the air. Our
opponent wheels around and rearing up, fires two more shots that
strike the underside of our flying friend
Fast forward to the current date, and you are burnt out on black metal, death metal, post-death doom drone metal, post everything metal. Time to go back to the classics. Sin After Sin was state of the art back in 1977. Fuck punk, this is the shit right here. Heavy metal at the time was pretty much just critic's jargon for heavier rock music like Zeppelin and Sabbath. Priest made it into something else entirely. Never before had rock n roll been infused with such high octane drama, such crushing riffs, all at faster tempos than previously. Priest started the trend of the 'kick in the ass' metal needs every 5 to 10 years, since, occasionally, they made Sabbath look like choir boys. This album features their first 'hit', Diamonds and Rust, a Joan Baez cover, but that is just side show. The real attraction here is the bloody meat in tracks like Sinner and Dissident Aggressor. There is some 70's style noodling here and there, and yeah, this isn't exactly a screaming iron fest like Pain Killer by today's standard, but it is enough to singe your cunt hairs, dude.
Adventure in Samur part 10.2 - Starbreaker
The Memporian lets out a high, keening
screech, turning in the air so the bony knight is still beneath us. I
long to use my patches to destroy our foe, but to do so would give
away our position to Lord
Dantor. I can see the weapons being aimed
once again at us when I hear another scream, guttural and
terrifying. Turning, I behold Lars the Berserker falling through the
air, a large spiked cudgel in one hand. He lands square upon the back
of the skeleton piloting the attacking beast, shattering its dusty
bones into a thousand pieces, then falls to the ground beneath the
lumbering attacker. At that moment, Mistress Crowbastard raises her
arms into the air and takes on her bird form, diving to the aid of
the rash barbarian. Bloodmace and I hang on for our lives as we come
in for another landing. We are shaken violently as the great lizard
hits the ground running, skidding to a halt some distance from the
action. Claw outstretched, Crowbastard knocks one of the deadly
cannons from beneath the ear of the rampaging beast, tearing asunder
the leathery appendage that conceals it while Lars strikes the beast
on the back of one of its forelegs, bringing it to the ground. As the
enemy falls with a pitiful cry it gets off a final shot that hits the
shape shifting crone in one of her wings. In her moment of triumph
the mighty mistress comes crashing to the ground next to her fallen
adversary. Even before the tattered form of our friend and protector
hits the sand, the Berserker flies into a trance like rage, smashing
through the skull of his injured foe with a single strike. His body
twisted in transports of spiritual agony, the possessed warrior
carves a tunnel of gore into the head of the massive beast, blood and
tissue exploding into the humid air. Bloodmace and I run across the
expanse of scrubby wilderness that separates us from the battle.
But 1978's Stained Class ended up as the winner of the night and here is why: class. 70's Priest was fucking classy, dude. Priest would under go a process of streamlining that would lead up to their classic British Steel album, forever trying to find that AOR hit single that would launch them to super stardom and more money than god status, which they eventual did find in Breakin' The Law. But along the way, they wrote some awfully intelligent tunes that was in no way dumbed down for 'the kids' like their 80's output became. Stained Class is like sci-fi poetry, setting precedent for exploring philosophical lyrical matter in a non-preachy way that Priest would abandon, but other much younger bands would later explore. And holy fuck are there some good tunes on this fucker. Another cover(another sideshow), and meat meat and more meat. Ain't no starchy shit, it's all fucking meat motherfuckers. MEAT!!!!!!!! Savage, Exciter, and the title track are crushing classics, but Beyond The Realms of Death is the real sumbitch on this album. An ode to death and alienation that inspired some douchbags to shoot their faces off to this song in the 80's....hey, I can understand getting caught up in the excitement. But any dumb dickhead that wants to kill themselves does not realize that they will never be able to listen to Judas Priest ever again. And that's a good reason to wanna live forever.
Words of the Elders Danger! Action! Potency! The legacy of Bloodmace and Demon Scourge is the child, Necro Baby, who came to them wrapped in a garbage bag and covered in blood. They raised this child and taught it the ways of metal and now we must call on the beast. O people of Centon, hear the crackling of the black loam that heralds the end of this evil epoch. The lords of dawn have risen and light shall flood over this land, banishing the old rulers into the dark corners of legend.
Manilla Road's 1987 opus, Mystification started things off on a high note. This was an important release for the (already) veteran band, as the thrash metal elements in their music came to the fore. They had flirted with the punkish sounds of metal's red-haired stepchild since the very first album but with Mystification they really went the full nine yards. The grace and majesty of their US power 
The entrance leads down a flight of
concrete stairs and through a hallway where florescent lights buzz
overhead. Bright primary color doors line the sides of the passage at
regular intervals, each bearing an obscure symbol like the ones we
saw in Keep Trawston. Jarkon motions to Bloodmace and I, who are
carrying Mistress Crowbastard between us, to enter one of the side
rooms. The bright red panel gives way to reveal a room with a simple,
low wooden bed and plain chair. We deposit our shape shifting
compatriot on to the mattress and turn to Jarkon, but before we can
question our benefactor, Lars the Berserker has burst in from the
hall and declares, "Jarkon! Youi remember your people on the shores of the Spirit Lake? They are dead. Slaughtered by one of
your creatures." A dangerous rage begins to glow in the eyes of
the vengeful warrior and Jarkon's hand moves to his laser pistol.
If any band might make me dip my toes in the murky stew of hardcore, groove and thrash that is metalcore, it would be Integrity. Here is a band that plays to my ears. When we jammed Seasons the Size of Days last night the air was a haze of booze and laughter, the music floated into the air without consequence, but upon the second go round I caught on to the twisted essence of this strange band. A great listen that I highly recommend.
