Tower of Spite - Technical Thrash in Unholy Dantor

Here at Metal Night.......we are the night!!! We ride the winds!!! We vomit forth the chaos!!!! We have iron muffins and stage psychosis. We don't take take no shit!!!! We do not make sense!!!!!! We are ambivalent about the use of contractions!!!!! But most importantly, on this important night of all nights, when the wild animals scream the names of the Metal Night elite, we have..........Technical Thrash Night!!!!!!!





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

Lastly, we heard the supreme mammoth gigantic epoch-spanning thrashterpiece spawned by the unfortunately monikered Canuck band DBC aka Dead Brain Cells. Their 1990 concept album Universe is a stab at prog glory, with earnestly scrawled lyrics that sound like they were written by a science loving Asperger's Syndrom victim trapped in community college English 101. In other words, it is a glorious clusterfuck of imaginative Voivod inspired riffing, weird monotone vocalizations, and conceptual overreach. It's kind of like this: you take your slightly above average thrash band, which DBC was by nature of their crossover influenced first album, and put them on the road for a few months. Their chops improve a bit, they start getting attention from ladies other than toothless hookers, and pretty soon they think they are the next King Crimson of Thrash and will be making the next ....And Justice For All. That was not the case. This album was mostly panned by critics, ignored by fans, and DBC soon went the way of Violence and many other bands into the thrash heap of history. Hell, I hated this album when it first came out, back in the day. But as Demon Scourge and myself kept being bowled over by this bands sheer audacity, inventive riffs, and highly entertained by the very special lyrics, we kept looking at each other, nodding in agreement that this is a lost classic. This is the kind of discovery that makes Metal Night so fucking awesome. Winner of the night. We ride the winds, motherfuckers.

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.

Until next week, loomers in the dusk





Horns