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!
Sometimes you just gotta kick back and let loose the dogs of wank. Actually, this is every Metal Night that is not Christian Metal Night and that is almost never. But once in a while, a lone wanderer will bring in a fifth of Grey Goose, and another will bring in a fifth of potato vodka and there will be Gatorade and there will be crystal meth and tar heroin and babies taken hostage and random strangers meeting their dooms for our amusement by way of Trollish crossbows. Bones are pumped in rhythmic fashion on tombstones and the feast of rotted flesh is underway. This is how we party, people. We get the fuck down. And we always put on some old school and obscure Metal Blade bands to drive us into a blood frenzy.
The first band, Warlord, from, LA, was the clear cut winner of the night. Their 1983 ep, Deliver Us, is tight, epic, melodic, and kinda bouncy in a medieval context, as many Maiden Jr. bands of the day were. The riffs are clear and sharp, and the songs are catchy in a somewhat commercial context, almost like early Scorpions and Priest, but with more of an ear towards the New Wave of British Heavy Metal. The lyrics have a somewhat Christian tinge to them, but this is not exactly Stryper or Bloodgood. If you a are fan of somewhat keyboardy power metal, this is a real gem of the era.
Adventure in Samur Part 20.1 - Evil Attack
The great hall of Jenkabala Palace is
quiet and dark. Walls once festooned with ornate carvings and relics
of our adventures now lie bare. Even the mall that Headron erected to
spite us when he took over this place has been swept away, leaving
only dust. We wander around as if in a daze, shocked by the
transformation of this vibrant castle into a deserted wasteland. We
climbed up the main staircase, footsteps echoing in the night. So
far, our new adversary had not yet shown their hand. Bloodmace
taps
my shoulder as we near the landing and motions behind us, where two
wolves glower up at us, “I sense powerful magic at work here,”
says my brother, “A necromancer for sure, and an old one at that. “
Two more sullen wolves await us at the top of the stair and follow
behind as we approach the door to the throne room. The air in this
upper floor has become humid and misty. Moss grows up the walls and
on to the ceiling. With a great screech, the heavy door swings open,
revealing the wreckage-strewn chamber that was once the seat of power
in Jenkabala. Mist swirls lazily in the light of hundreds of tiny
candles that illuminate the the throne room and there upon a pile of
tattered books is our enemy, Necro Baby. Though appearing to be but a
child, evil shines out from its heavy lidded eyes. The maniacal face
is made yet more terrifying by the corpsepaint markings of its skin,
a sign of great power in the necro tribes of northwest Centon. I can
see the tiny hand making sigils in the air, but Bloodmace attacks
first with his Blasphemy patch , striking the creature with fire. The
white hot flame turns the detritus beneath the foul cur to ash, but
she emits a torturous grunt and the barbarian falls to the ground.
The minute head turns in my direction then and I feel a tightening
around my throat. "Your time is over, dog." the little one
spits in a disgusted voice, "I am the master now, so bow before
my might!" I fall to my knees, gasping for air. The child's eyes
grow wide, now locking in on
my eyes, prying into my mind. Bloodmace
has not finished though, and blood begins to pour out the
necromancer's ears. I suck air in greedy gasps as her grip upon my
neck loosens. The uncanny sorcerer, studded onesie covered with
blood, retaliates without haste, pummeling Bloodmace with white hot
lightning that sends him to the floor in searing pain. As I am about
to act her diminutive hand turns in my direction and I also am
brought down by the miniature scale tyrant. If only Bloodmace and I
could link our powers...I am cursing my stupidity as I slip into
unconsciousness, but suddenly the pain stops. I rise up to see a
familiar face standing above the smashed head of Necro Baby.
Next up were Dutch dagger fiends Future Tense with an ep of not quite so inspired Euro metal tunes called Condemned To The Gallows. This is poverty metal. The guitars are semi crunchy and flat. The drummer falls asleep halfway through the album. Here and there are traces of Maiden, Priest and Venom worship, if not outright theft. This album actually works best in fast Venom-mode, such as the last song "Evil Attack'', when the drummer wakes up from his nappy and gets down to business. Best are the English as second language, Satan inspired lyrics, which are full of cheesy metal goodness.
Adventure In Samur Part 20.2 - Child of the Damned
Chanthoth, last of the T'Chah Karnac
stands before us, bloody staff in hand. His cape billows in the wind
blowing through the missing wall in the tower room. The crumpled form
of our enemy lies in a bloody mass at his feet and his great smile
warms our hearts. Bloodmace, rising to his feet cries out in a hoarse
yell, "Chanthoth, you rascal! I thought you dead when that damn
tree fell! Ha ha!" The arboreal wizard holds up his hand and
speaks as we approach, "I have heard of your deeds in Narn and
Dantor, you have done well." He turns to me, "You both have
many trials yet, but you have many friends. You will need them if you
intend to sit to the Jenkabala throne again." I look
questioningly to the strange forest dweller and ask, "What of
this one, the infant?" Chantoth looks down and replies jauntily,
"It was just an elder of the Necro tribe trying to hijack a
throne in the absence of a ruler.
Don't let it trouble you."
Unfortunately for us, he was wrong. The mystic is hit with a blinding
flash of electricity from the open wall. Necro Baby floats there,
Cackling, "Fools! You know not my power. I shall lay waste to
your precious world and expunge your filthy lineage from the book of
history for all time!" I look to Bloodmace and he knows, already
he knows. We join our vests together with the Bathory patch. It's
more power than I have ever felt before, but focused. The child, or
god, or whatever it is begins to break apart, skin sliding off the
body, organs falling to the floor in a wet pile. All is silent but
the wind, upon whose voice we can just detect a faint, whispered
chant that seems to come from the very air around us. We help up the
singed Chanthoth who looks at us and deadpans, "About that
throne...I think you might be having a little more trouble than I
thought."
Lastly, before tipping over into oblivion, we heard Tyrant's Legions of the Dead. This is Tyrant from California, not to be confused with the one from Colorado, or the other one from California, or the one from Wisconson, and especially not to be confused with the ones from Australia, Brazil, Finland, Italy, or any other place on Earth where heavy metal isn't outlawed on pain of death. This one is a plodder. The band is not exactly tight. They can work up quite a racket at times, but this one lacks even the speedier tunes that pepped up the previous album. They try to pull off as many Priest moves as they can, but too no avail. Too bad.
Words Of The Elders
Victory is never total. The seed of the
vanquished will take root wherever the soil is fertile and so battle
is inevitable. Vengeful ghosts stalk everywhere in the foggy past,
spirits who possess those living to great feats of creation or
destruction. These hands have reached out to touch Bloodmace and
Demon Scourge, Hellmaster and perhaps even Necro Baby, spawn of
chaos, the elder child who speaks for those beyond the velvet curtain
of space.
Alas! Empires are built on the backs and blood of slaves and whores, only to crumble when the slaves and whores take over. A never ending cycle. The old Jenkabala stands in ruin, but alas, a new shining fortress arises from the blood of old tyrants. In the meantime, a lot of black fucking metal was listened to. Black metal is the music of fading castles and dethroned empire. This will be short, as a horde of nettle trolls seeks to cover me with poison burrs. Let us contemplate with razor studded blackjacks!
We ventured over to the realm of Duchess Von Doom, and she showed us the sodden delights of forest obsessed anarcho-black metal. L'Acephale's first album Stahlhartes Gehäuse kicked our asses immediately. It is an eclectic brew of necro wizardry and acoustic atmospherics. It is by turns psychedelic and psychically frought with nightmare visions of inner and outer hate. This is an album to return to for repeated listens.
And then the Duchess put a spell on us and made us kill for her bidding, which was rather unnecessary, since we would have fucking done it anyway, but you know how dramatic these witches have to be. So I can't remeber what else we listened to that enchanted evening. The following week, just yesterday actually, we heard some black metal, at the new restored and just slightly relocated Jenkabala Palace. It pretty great.
Marduk's Nightwing opus started out the evening. Considered by some to be their classic, and considered by many nerds to be a hunk of over-produced shit, it's either love it or hate it with this album. It's a pretty average by todays standards, having influenced much in it's wake. There are fast part and there are slow parts. There are dynamics. It's a great black metal album. What else do you want from me??
Adventure In Samur Part 19.1 - Swords and Tequila
We were still dematerialized in the dimensional gate when the assault on Jenkabala began. Bloodmace, Mistress Crowbastard and I had exited from the portal in Headron's castle, on the way to northern Samur to reunite with our bodies after shedding them in order to travel to Narn, but many miles south our allies had converged on the ancient fortress. Hellmaster and Lady Deathcrush had joined forces with Baron Lotar and his royal guard, crossing the Time Desert in a fearsome convoy. Lady Steel and her warrior priestesses, who had stayed on in Samur after the battle with the Wyvern came from the west, joining Duchess VonDoom and her party in the mysterious forest. Fester Blackheart and Ophelia Skullbourne roared across the eastern shore with their jeep brigade and Iron Dan emerged from his mystical hut to ride with Frostor the Bounty Hunter. The legion of heroes gathered in darkness, unseen by the gray guardians of those areas controlled by Headron. When Duchess VonDoom could sense the magic of the battle jackets unleashed in the dimension of Narn she called to the wind and it carried her message to each ear. Even as we slipped on our skins in the frozen north, Frostor was silently making a pathway of dead guards that led to the very doors of the occupied villa. By the time we had joined our powers to transport to our ancestral home, Hellmaster and Lady Deathcrush were leading a platoon of saurons into the breach. Arrows and laser bolts flew as magic blades were rending spectral flesh under the cruel moon.
Next, Satanic Warmaster's Nachzerer ravaged our anuses in a surprising happy way. On the surface, this is a pretty typical Finnish OTT black metal album, who try to out Satanize their fellow Scandinavian brethren. But the chord structures are joyous and triumphant rather than ravaging and evil. This is the music of Satan's ultimate glory over that bastard Nazz fucker, that fucking piece of shit Jesus Christ. This provoke an argument between me and Demon Scourge, one that almost ended with blood splattered on the walls of his new apartment. I conceded that there were major chords and not minor ones. He conceded that this was not a Midnight album. A truce was called. Order was restored. A winner for the evening was declared.
Adventure In Samur Part 19.2 - Laughter of the Ancients
Into the chaos our trio of adventurers winged, materializing among the combatants in the shadow of the great palace. From the ground, hideous goblins arose, swinging their gnarled arms like deadly whips. Many were wounded and dying on the battlefield, both spirit and flesh. We had thought it would be over for Headron's forces when we destroyed their leader in Narn, but they fought on. Who was controlling them? At once, a vast cloud blacked out the moon and from the tower above a trollish voice rang out, distorted and hypnotic. A voice of Iron that mocked us, "you will never approach this throne room, I am in control here. You thought you could defeat me by defeating that bumbling clod, Headron? Ha! I am a thousand times worse. You will be begging for his return as I squeeze the blood from your people. Heed me mortals, go back and submit to my will or face my mighty wrath! I am Necro Baby! Hahahaha!" There is a great thudding that shakes the ground, growing louder and louder, then a cry goes up from one of the soldiers, "Aye! There she is!" Two tremendous toads lumber into view from behind the castle. Upon their backs ride five or six cloaked mummies, shrived forms cradled in jeweled seats, firing laser cannons that rain death upon all and sundry. Bloodmace has had enough. He rushes to the front of the fray, dodging the deadly blasts that send bodies flying into the air in a jumble of bloody parts. Standing before the enemy creatures, he grabs hold of the Blasphemy patch and lets out a bestial howl that becomes a razor sharp beam of power that shoots through one of the toads, rending it in half where it is suspended in the air for the briefest of moments. There is a sharp clap, then the whole beast explodes, showering the area with pulpy gore. Necro Baby, still unseen, speaks again, "You leave me no choice. Kill them all, minions, kill them!" From the castle issue fourth a legion of twisted creatures, death riders and demons who devour our forces mercilessly. All seems lost, but there is suddenly a sound that envelops all and to a slow funeral beat, the ghostly sectaurians ride on a carpet of blue light, their stallions galloping dreamily into the melee, driving Necro Baby's army before them. A roar goes up from the ranks and again we charge at the castle , this time encountering little resistance. Bloodmace and I make our way through the battalions of Centon and stand before the great sourwood door that opens into the castle grounds. Turning to Bloodmace I say, "I know not who this new adversary is, but now is the time we take back our legacy or destroy it." I hold out my arm and Bloodmace grips it. The door, with an angry groan, swings open.
Next, black metal fanboy favs Taake swept us up in it's evil flow with it's eponymous 2008 album. Lot's of fanboys constantly suck this bands dick. The Metal Archives are filled up with glowing reviews of this band, so I am tempted to bring them down a notch. Alas, they do not merit such abuse. I wasn't as taken with this album as Demon, but this very much seems to me the type of album that takes a few listens before getting sucked in for good. A worthy band, necro as fuck, many inventive riffs and changes. I can't knock 'em. I will be checking out some of the other albums.
Words of the Elders
In our next episode, Bloodmace and Demon Scourge storm Jenkabala Palace to unseat the bold usurper, Necro Baby!
Enforcer's Death by Fire started things out the right way with a retro minded blast of old school circa 1983 Heavy Fuckin' Metal. A few gentle piano strains start the album off, but its pure ass kicking the rest of the way. This band is in the vein of Wolf and other younger retro metal bands. Much attention is paid to the purity of the old sounds, the construction of old school riffs and solos, all the while retaining just enough personality of their own. Think demo era Metallica, Exciter, and all things NWOBHM. Think denim, leather, patches, cheap beer, and maybe some trucker crack. Actually, don't think. Just turn this shit up, dude.
Adventure In Samur Part 18.1 - Bells of Hades
I had used the power in the patches
sewn on to my denim vest many times. I was ready for the hot tingling
in my hands and the discharge of energy from them when I unleashed
the power from the magic embroidery. This time, however, it was
different. Before me stood our greatest foe, Headron, gray skin
covered with a business suit, lightning flowing from his fingertips.
Behind me was the rest of our party. Mistress Crowbastard, Jarkon the
Inflamer and Vecton the Bard were holding off the massive surge of
soldiers who were storming this tower and Lars the Berserker,
rebounding from a bolt from Headron's hand was running up the stair
to help me. I had narrowly dodged a searing shock from above and when
I put my hand upon my Bathory patch, I felt a sharp pain and from my
outstretched arm came a blast that took both Headron and I by
surprise. With no time to react, the tyrant caught the brunt of the
blow, knocking him back through the heavy door from witch he emerged.
Lars and I rush up to the landing, where the smell of burning flesh
hangs heavily in the air. Dust clouds obscure everything as we
cautiously approach the wreckage. Before we can even peer into the
inner sanctum of our enemy, he leaps out form the darkness, but Lars
is too quick for him, the barbarian's fist smashes what is left of
Headron's face and I send a deadly spell from the Exciter patch. The
body goes limp and crumples to the ground before us. We lean down to
examine the flesh bag, but at that moment we are both caught off
guard when our foe rushes us in the body of one of the intergalactic
businessmen who were about to buy Centon from him when we showed up.
Now a stout, amphibious looking humanoid with tremendous bulging eyes
on either side of his aquiline face, Headron bellows, "Fools!
Your world is mine now. Already my troops are hunting your friends on
Centon. Your legacy shall be expunged from history!" He draws
his cutlass, I feel it draining energy from me as soon as it is
unsheathed. My heart sinks knowing there are more bodies for him to
inhabit in his chamber, but from outside we hear the buzzing and
chirping of a thousand flying insects. Rangar the Sectaurian has
come.
Because thinking is what is required to engage with the next masterpiece by avant-garde weirdos The Meads of Asphodel. Time to get out the Wikipedia folks, cuz this is a head trip that will require repeated listening and much studious inquiry in order to absorb what's happening. The Meads have always been an eclectic band, with one foot rooted firmly in black metal and the other the music of the world. But most notably this is their most technically accomplished, displaying more musical proficiency than ever before besides their artful and bizarre meanderings. This time, the Meads explore the Holocaust with as much iconoclasm and intellect as the Gnostic religious musings of previous albums. This got my vote for winner of the night, though Demon Scourge digressed and he did so with a gore-soaked knife and Mistress Crowbastard put a spell on him and taught him a lesson he will never forget. Feral babies were slaughtered and women and children and menfolk, too. Too many sidecars.
Adventure In Samur Part 18.2 - Mesmerized by Fire
A look of panic crosses Headron's face
as a stream of tiny nsects pours through every opening of his
fortified tower. Below, we can hear the terrified screams of his
ghostly legions as the insect men rend their legion with mandible and
pincer. The shape shifting king turns from us and runs into the
throne room. As Lars and I persue our quarry I feel a tingling at the
base of my skull that turns into the voice of Rangar, "You must
use the patch...use the patch." My hand reaches into the inside
pocket of the
leather beneath my denim. Headron is running for the
gate to Centon but before he can get there Lars has tackled him. I
pull out the Mournful Congregation patch and hold it to my denim.
Rangar's voice comes out of my mouth, "I hold you Headron, Ankra
t'chmala dentoich!" The two warriors struggle on the ground
before the portal. Headron throws Lars from on top of him, thrusting
at him with his sword. Our enemy's power is great, but Lars, in his
anger, calls fourth the Berserker from the slaughtering void and his
ax rains down destruction on everything before it. Headron lunges for
his escape, but the ax falls on the body he in inhabiting again and
again, but this time there is no escape, he is held within that form
by Rangar's spell. Lars the Berserker tears the head from the body
that still contains the dying tyrant and lets out a victorious howl.
I watch as he runs to the balcony on the other side of the throne
room and holds the bloody head aloft, then hurls it down into the
throng of retreating demons. Rangar, perched upon a magnificent
battle wasp hovers nearby, "Demon Scourge!" He calls to me,
"Let us go on to Centon, we must also destroy the gate he built
in Jenkabala Palace! Take your friends there now, we shall follow.
Onward to victory!"
Words of the Elders
So it is done. The tyrant has been
defeated by the oppressed, but Centon is still in danger. Is the
father of Bloodmace and Demon Scourge really in league with Headron?
What secrets that lie buried in the past will rise from their
mouldering tombs to confront the metal warriors upon their return?
