The Black Wards - New Death Metal and the Origins of Hellmaster

Welcome to the charnel house where ghouls wearing impish hats churn human butter. We invite you to sit down on the comfy chair with the bloody spikes. Drink the hemlock laced liqueur.  An evening of exquisite pain awaits you at Jenkabala Palace as we contemplate some choice and quite brand new death metal albums. We'll mop you up when we are done.

First, we heard the triumphant return of the mighty Carcass. Surgical Steel is one of the best comebacks and return to classic form that major band has done in a while. The sound heralds a return to their melodic death metal days. The production is fantastic, the riffs are hearty, the melodies are catchy, the sinuous guitar solos are fucking fantastic. The songs are intricate gems of riff craft. On the other hand, there really are no new innovations, and a few nods to their grindcore days would have been appreciated. But thankfully no nods to Swan Song either. The lyrics are appropriately Carcass-like, way over the top but with a bit of sly wit. Winner of the night, though Vecton was not convinced. 

Lives of the Noble Centonians Part 2.1 - Darkflow Quadrivium

Ka-Taw gazed out over the open desert that was now his kingdom. There were still a few trees left here and there, dotting the landscape like tiny islands in a turbulent sea of sand. The northern prince knew that the desert had formed in a vicious battle of magic in the distant past, but nothing he had heard in the songs or poems of the time prepared him for the awe he felt when he saw the brilliantly colored wasteland change hue for the first time. During the course of the day the entire desert would change hue many times from deep red to green to gray to purple and so fourth. Sometimes the color change would be accompanied by a violent storm that would send the noble exile running for cover. He had been living on the dry rations the sauropeds provided him when they dropped him off in this lonely country. From his royal vestments he had fashioned a kind of loose cloak that hung pitifully

from his spry frame and a lightly colored beard was beginning to form on his resolute jaw. Wandering for days, he had become disoriented with grief and anger, mind consumed with thoughts of revenge. His water supply was dangerously low and yet he paid no mind to the dwindling flame of life, as a conflagration of hatred boiled within, pressing the royal heir onward. From his vista at the top of a small dune, Ka-Taw picked a clump of trees not too far off and made his way to the comparitive saftey of their branches. The scruffy wanderer was almost halfway to his destination when the winds kicked up and the ground began to split. The fissure races toward the unfourtanate nomad and he runs toward the solid ground just before him, jumping to grab the trunk, but the ground swallows up the tree and everything else around him and he falls into the wailing abyss, still screaming oaths of revenge.

Next, Portal was unleashed into the sonic fray. Portal are one of the most esoteric death metal bands on the planet, Vexovoid is a dark holocaust of sound, unleashing monsters from deep in the abyss of hate. But we've seen all that before. This album actually sounds a little less less murky than previous efforts, but they off pretty much more of the same thing, with few surprises. I never actually thought I'd ever say this, but this is just another Portal album. Just another foray into dark light of spiritual death and otherworldly madness. Just another album to swim in your own guts to. 

Lives of the Noble Centonians Part 2.2 - Multivectoral Reionization

The smell of grilled fish coaxes Ka-Taw into consciousness and he opens his eyes to the sight of three crouching figures, shrouded in black robes. The prince attempts to rise but he realizes he is tightly snared in a net. "Hey! Release me at once bastards!" The faceless strangers continue to eat, unmoved by the cries of their captive. For the first time, thoughts of self preservation begin to creep into the ragged warrior's mind. "What do you want of me? I have no treasure, I am a simple wanderer" One of his captors comes closer and feeds him a piece of the salty fish his companions are dining on, then lifts a finger to his lips, "All will be revealed soon my son" His finger, surmounted by a razor sharp claw reaches down and snaps the cables of the net, allowing Ka-Taw to rise from the stone floor.

Looking around him, he beholds a large, pillar filled chamber. Before him the three robed ones before him stand, arms folded in stern regard. He reaches for his sword, but discovers he has been stripped naked by these poachers. Again, their weird leader speaks, "Fear not, prince Ka-Taw, we are friends. Together we represent the council of gatemasters and we have chosen you to become the steward of this dimensional wilderness." Ka-Taw looks around at the spartan fortress and replies with scorn, "I have no interest in your barren kingdom, my only dreams are revenge and death. Be gone with you." A second gaurdian steps up and says softly, "You do not understand, you cannot go back to your home, not now. We have already transmuted your body to withstand the dimensional storms here, so you are now more in our world than your own." The former noble makes an anguished cry and lunges at his keepers, but their bodies are no more solid than a cloud of dust. He screams and smashes himself against the walls to no avail. At last, when his rage was spent, the naked exile slumped against a pillar and stared into the gloom at the end of the cavernous room. From out of the darkness came an exquisitely uniformed priestess, ceremonial armor gleaming in the torch light. She steps before him and extends her hand to the broken champion. Ka-Taw, in despair, reaches out to the pale hand before him. When she draws him up to his feet, he looks deeply into the wide, fierce eyes before him and a rush of power wells up inside his chest. From each side, the robed figures come to dress the new king of nothingness. "I am Lady Deathcrush." Says the mystic before him, "You have shed your skin and now we hail you as king of these decimated lands." Drawing a jeweled sword from a scabbard at her side, she touches the side and neck of the new ruler and recites, "Oblonga tenteran, millrose charnan!" Far off in the distance he hears the many voices of the spirit monks raised up in the old chant, Phantom Lord. "I dub thee, Hellmaster of the Time Desert." The torches on the walls begin to glow with an unnatural intensity and outside, a storm rages, howling the name of the new master.

And lastly, Spain's Wormed gurgled their way into our hearts. Wormed is a brutal death metal band with a fondness for sci-fi lyrics, ultra crazed drumming heroics, extreme technicality, and inhumanly chortled vocals. This is a good band to skin yourself to and Exdromos is welcome return a 10 year hiatus. Vecton the Bard cummed blood to this album, getting his bloody jizz all over Iron Dan's viking beard. They were both very drunk.

 Words of the Elders

The history of Centon is filled with the blood of heroes and villains, stories of battles untold and forgotten adventures of nomadic wanderers in the misty ruins of the Huskitel and Chevelargo battlements. In the second age of Centon, after the Wyvern elders usurped the power of the north from the T'Chah Karnac, after the cataclysm that left the Charn forest a wasteland that gave way to the Time Desert, there came a wanderer into this barren land. Ka-Taw was the heir to the once

powerful Clan Parth, who lived upon the River Trimpor in northern Jenkabala. For generations their family ruled the great trade route between Samur and Jenkabala, supported by the powerful wizards of the T'Chah Karnac and the might of the Sauroped tribes who had lived there since the days of the Chevelargo. When the Wyverns deposed the T'Chah Karnac, dark days fell upon Ka-Taw and his family and he was forced to flee into the time desert, where he became the mighty Hellmaster, at whose name the Wyvern elders were soon to tremble!

Until next week, extraterrestrial scanners,

Horns

Screaming For A Love Bite - Accept Vs. U.D.O. Vs. The Tot Vortex

Germans are a hearty, industrious people, as you may have heard. Mindful of their dark

history, and tortured by their unrelenting work ethic,  they have created a society that melds their iron discipline with the all encompassing openness of the modern liberal welfare state. They make great automobiles and even better heavy metal. Accept is one of the founding fuehrers of the German metal scene, and on their best albums, they are fronted by the man with the world's most metal name, Udo Dirkschnieder. Tonight, we put the best of Accept up against the best of  Udo's eponymous solo output, U.D.O.

Accept's 1981 breakout album, Breaker, is a gleaning, established classic of Teutonic riff mastery. Its her that Dirkschiender fully mastered the gargled razor blade vocal assault. The songs are varied and have one foot firmly planted in the 70's, while the other foot firmly kicking ass 80's style. Album highlight is 'Son of a Bitch', a rude and cathartic anthem to swearing. This song made faces explode from awesomeness back in the day. This one made Vecton the Bard bleed from all orifices and a few others.


This week, we begin a new series in the story of Centon, Lives of the Noble Centonians. For the next while we shall share stories from the lives of the characters in this strange land. Enjoy! 
-Demon Scourge
Lives of the Noble Centonians Part 1.1 - Up to the Limit

Bloodmace held his breath as he cocked the bow back. The yat ambled slowly from the bush where it was hiding, its massive rack of antlers casting a long shadow in the late afternoon sun. Exhaling slowly, he lets go of the arrow and watches as it rips through the throat of the unsuspecting beast, who emits a choking gasp then falls to the ground. This was only the third year the young warrior had been allowed to hunt by himself and he was overtaken with excitement as he trudged through the cool Waylorian morning to Keep Raven. Knowing his father was to hold court that afternoon, he left the carcass of the beast hanging in the meat shed and followed the shady path down Mount Raven

towards the damp lowland. Just a couple nights previously, he overheard his father speak gravely of a group of sauropeds who had been camping in Aethac swamp. The people of the village feared them and blamed the strangers for some recent thefts of livestock. As the bold youngster approached the swamp, he heard the exotic music of the north. He couldn't make out all the words, but the song was clearly venerating some demon of their pantheon. His heavy boots trudge through thick mud until he reaches a small island in the marsh, surrounded by reeds and low hanging trees. Several of the lizard like humanoids are seated around a smoldering pile of fragrant bark. At Bloodmace's approach, they quickly stand, swords drawn. The tall lizard man in the back, resplendent in the ceremonial garb of his brethren, speaks sharply, "What is your business human? We do not have your gomenti, nor have we stolen crops from your fields." Bloodmace, grasping the magic weapon hanging on his belt, sticks out his chest and replies, "I am Bloodmace of Waylor and my father is the king of these lands. It is I who should be asking you what business you have in our realm." His words were spoken forcefully, but inside he felt unsure of his decision to present himself to this possibly dangerous bunch of intruders. The sauroped priest, sheathing his sword replies, "Very well Bloodmace of Waylor, you have seen, now go. We are leaving now, but this spell must be cast before we can go anywhere. Go back to your father, little one." Face flush with embarrassment, the adolescent hunter turns to leave, but from a theeba cart nearby, a voice croaks out, "Wait! I must speak to the prince before he departs. It's very important." The Sauropeds look at one another in disbelief. The voice becomes even more shrill and impatient, "Bring him to me, now, I must see him at once!"

Skip to 1985 and Metal Heart comes crashing through your ventricles. This is unapologetic, meat and potatoes metal for the masses. This is a heavier, nastier beast, less varied, but  tightly focused on kicking your hiney with commando style badassery. The standout is the stinky cheese fest of 'Screaming For A Love Bite' which is the best song never to appear on Turbo, and had us creaming our leathers and singing along like prepubes at a Justin Beiber concert. It's a song about hickies, written by men in their 30's. I love heavy metal. This album made Demon Scourge scrape off the face of a baby. Not Necrobaby, just a regular baby.


And then Udo quits Accept. Accept decide they want to make money and hire a more commercial sounding singer. They fail. U.D.O. bursts upon the scene; unapologetic, frantic, and metal as fuck. Timebomb was their 4th album until a 6 year hiatus. It is the logical continuation of the Accept
formula, but on steroids, and with no interest in making hit singles. This is the heaviest but least interesting album we heard that night. It's still a great album, but definitely meat and potatoes with little gravy. No fancy stuff, just large, sweaty, hairy balls slapping you in the face until blood-clots  form.


 Lives of the Noble Centonians Part 1.2 - Thunderforce

A theeba is shifting about impatiently, its long claws scratching the moist soil as Bloodmace is escorted around the other side of the small cart attached to the mountain lizard so that he can see the occupant of the covered vehicle. "Come closer, closer little one." Says the voice from under the linen wrappings that cover all but the piercing eyes of the seated figure. Feeling uncomfortable and a bit sheepish, he inches closer, nudged by the priest behind him. An ambigously female voice issues agin from beneath the wrappings, "Leave us, I have something to tell the son of Bloodhammer." The sleek shamen turns to go, vestments of faceted stone sparkling in the twilight gloom. The stranger turns to Bloodmace and removes the gauzy wrapping from its head, revealing a ravishing green eyed

sauroped, light and dark scales running in a helix pattern down her head and neck accentuated the strong lines of her long face. She cocked her head to take in the royal heir, "You certainly are a handsome one young Bloodmace. Do you know why we are here?" Bloodmace, transfixed by the strange, rough voice coming from the beautiful face before him answers, "No, I only know that my people are not welcome among yours in the north." The princess looks down and shakes her head sadly, "It was not always like this, and it shall not stand, but yes, what you say is true. You know nothing of me or of my reasons for passing here so I will just tell you that I have escorted a human your age from Samur into the Time Desert. What I am about to tell you, you will forget until the time you need to remember, then you will know that the sauropeds have done their part in the destiny of Centon." She reaches out a graceful arm and with long fingers brushing against his cheek and neck, she guides his face close to hers. Bloodmace's heart races as her sweet, haunting smell fills his senses. Her lips brush his ear as she softly whispers her secret, voice like a lover's hand caressing the growing youngster's spine and brushing this information somewhere deep in the reptilian base of his brain. The morning sun was shining brightly as his father's men awoke him in the Aethac swamp, dragging the disgraced boy from the mud, laughing, congratulating him on his kill of the day before. As they climbed up the rocky slope near the little island in the middle of the marsh, Bloodmace looked back, trying desperately to remember what the beautiful lizard had told him in his trance, but each time he tried to remember, the sweet smell of sourwood bark locked him out. Somewhere far down the trail, throaty laughter echoed into the balmy air and the smell of sourwood rose up as a supplication to the sky

For me the album of the night was 1999's Holy. This is the document of metal masters in full control of the art form, and maybe even a little bored, therefore playful. This is still meat and potatoes traditional metal, but unexpected, even subtle elements turn up here and there, elevating an already great album,. You'll hear a clean, almost jazzy guitar solo here, a power metal type chorus there. The last song tinkles the ivories a bit. Udo sounds reved up yet somehow more relaxed, absolutely confident that his razor blade gargling throat will carry the day. Mature and unexpected. I rate this  the  Winner of  Metal Night. All the albums were winners though, and much ale and merriment was had this night, my friends. Oh, yes indeed.

Words of the Elders

Chief among the noble Centonians is the warrior priest Bloodmace, one of the twin sons of Bloodhammer. In his formative years, he knew nothing of Jenkabala, where his kingdom would at last rise, but there were many signs that did not go unnoticed by his father. For now though, he carries one secret Bloodhammer could never know, but that's a story for later.

Until next week whiplash warriors,

Horns

Stellar Master Elite - Industrial Metal at Thrashstone With the Legend of Bloodmace and Demon Scourge

The mass of men and muscle labor infinity, the sweat glistening from their furrowed brows, as the grey hulks of industry, molten steel and heavy hammers, oppress both landscapes and souls. As I write this sentence, Rob Halford gets an erection while thinking these very same thoughts. Indeed, such an apocalyptic landscape can summon something near beauty in the mind of riivetheads worldwide. Tonight, we consider three classics of the industrial metal sphere. Tonight, we dive head first into the slag thresher for METAL NIGHT!!!!!!

First up, Prong's 1994 chuggernaut Cleansing bowled us over with 4 song of pummeling sonic intensity and riff craft. And then it petered out. But it was interesting. But seriously, the first 4 songs define the album with their tightly compressed riffs and concise and sometimes danceable rhythms. From there, it gradually gets less interesting and definitely less intense, employing many typical 90's nu metal type textures, lot's of dissonance over vaguely funky/hard grooves, though fortunately sparing us any inane riffs typical of that genre. And that's all ok, since this is the band that pioneered that approach in the first place.

Epilog Part 1.1 - Dream Long Dead

All was quiet in the ruined tower. I sat among piles of rubble and the blood covered detritus that once was our great library. Our long quest was over, Headron had been defeated, but now what was to become of our beloved world, Centon? Looking out from the smashed battlement I could see a breathtaking vista of destruction spread out before me in the misty light of dawn. I looked to the twin thrones, now lying in pieces on the dusty stone floor, and reflected on the beginning of our path, when the insatiable Lord Headron possessed Zodron the Minstrel and caused him to attack us. Vowing revenge, swords in hand, we set out to find Lord Headron in Dantor and put an end to his rule. On the way we met the legion of heroes: Hellmaster and Lady Deathcrush, Master Raknar and Tolar the Mystic. Together we traveled through Samur and the Time Desert, seeking a way into the dimension where Headron worked his hateful magic. We were just about to cross into Dantor through a gate we had opened inside the throne room of Castle Thrashstone when Headron took possession of my body and caused me to slay my companions without mercy. Darkness descended over our

kingdom. Headron occupied our home and became ruler of all Centon when he allied with the Wyvern, powerful dragons who represented the five royal bloodlines. Unbeknownst to the ascendent tyrant, however, there was a stirring in the Time Desert. Vorthon the Whip of Fate, a former student of Bloodmace, had heard the tales of our demise and took up residence in the ruins of the desert castle with the crytophysicist Hellwraith. Immediately they began working on the tools to resurrect us at the peak of Mount Tarvo in Waylolr. They enlisted Baron Lotar, the famous tyrant and sentinel of northern Waylor and also his bitter enemy, Lady Steel of Keep Trawston. The unlikely band of adventurers and magicians somehow did manage to free us from the inky void, but we were immediately shanghaied by our father, Bloodhammer, who was buried under the mountain. He sent us back to Jenkabala, to the enchanted sourwood tree where Chanthoth, last of the T'chah Karnac was imprisoned. The mystic then sent Bloodmace into the Time Desert, to mend the dimensional rift I caused while possessed by Headron. I was sent with Fester Blackheart and Ophelia Skullbourne to the lair of Iron Dan, where
the last traces of Headron's spell were removed from my mind. While there, I was introduced to Frostor the Bounty Hunter, who joined us for a perilous battle with the Wyvern elders. Bloodmace, who had returned with Hellmaster, Lady Deathcrush and Master Raknar, saved the day in a death defying duel in the treetops. From there Duchess VonDoom took us to Samur, where we visited the castle of Mistress Crowbastard, who transported us to Narn, the midway point between the walking dimensions and the spirit realm. While we were there, we met Lars the Berserker who owned one of the sacred denim and leather jackets from ancient times. We rowed across the spirit lake to the island of Va, where Iron Dan's father, Parthon the Elder, sent us to Dantor. Jarkon the Inflamer introduced us to the spider king, Rangar the Sectaurian and with the help of Vecton the Bard, we stormed the castle of our enemy. Unfortunatly, upon our return to Centon, a new enemy had risen to challenge us, the fearsome Necro Baby.

Next, a sentimental favorite. Godflesh's Streetcleaner fucked us to death with it's bleak industrial cock. This is one of the seminal albums of the industrial metal genre and one that seered itself to my black soul many years ago, when I first heard the title song on Earache's Grindcrusher comp. This album, released in 1989, is still just as heavy, just as crushing, and just as revolutionary as it was then. Fascist hatescapes are offered as songs, each one more oppressive than the rest. Somehow, a trace of melody elevates the absolute nihilism of tone, making catharsis possible, a technique explored more in depth on their classic album, Pure. Also, it was really nice hear this album blasted Hellmaster's state of the art sound system at Castle Thrashstone.

Epilog Part 1.2 - Home Rule

I am awakened from my reverie by Rangar the Sectaurian and Bloodmace, who have come from a tour of the disaster area that was once our home. My brother has found our scepters and capes and he jovially hands me the ceremonial accouterments, "Well, the palace is wrecked, but at least we still have our monkey suits!" Rangar and the crude barbarian fall out laughing. The spider lord composes himself and stretches out this hand to me, "My friend, Lars and I must travel back to Dantor. We have much to do in our own dimension." Behind the weary warriors, Lars the Berserker appears, his fur cloak matted with blood. He puts has hand on my shoulder and says, "You have done well my brothers. I have something for you." From a sachel hanging on his belt, he pulls two embroidered patches, "You will need these to find the fifth jacket. The unexpectedly heavy patches have the

Mercyful Fate logo sewn into them. Rangar speaks again, "You can also call us with the patches we have given you." I look down at the Mornful Congregation patch the spider king gave to me before our battle with Headron. Blue light bathes the room as the portal in the the remaining wall begins to open. Bloodmace calls out from behind me, "Safe travels to you, lords of Dantor!" He rushes up to embrace our new commrades but their forms have already fadede into the louminous mist. The throne room is once agqain silent. Bloodmace looks at me and I at him. "What now, brother?" I ask the hulking savage. He looks out at the sunrise and replies, "We have a kingom to rule, and one big problem with Necro Baby." His serious face is illuminated by the sun breaking above the trees, "First, we build a new Jenkabala palace. Let us call the druids back. Now is the time to strike!"

 But the winner of the night, as much as I love Godflesh, went to black metal icon Thorns and their one eponymous full length release. This is a classic black metal album that I had overlooked and it kicked my fucking ass. This is black metal in the classic sense;; a little bit of Emperor riffage here, some Darkthrone tones there, a Satyricon burp, you know the score, but all of this is delivered with the addition of the cold industrialism and experimentation.. It does indeed at times resemble Dr. Mengle's horror lab in the level of weird wonder layered over the wickedly delivered metal, reminding one of Sigh, but much tighter and focused in attack. This album was released in 2001. This album migt have been released much earlier if the Thorns guy hadn't been with Varg when he stabbed Euronymous in the face back in the day. He went to jail.

Words of the Elders

A time of transitions is always painful. With every triumph there is a million paths not followed, untold destinies that dissipate as every moment dies. As the legion of heroes makes their way through the labyrinthine catacombs of fate, the evil Necro Baby watches, waiting for her chance to destroy the bonds that hold them together. Join us as we boldly plunge into the foggy realms where past and future mingle!

Until next week, dangerous druids,

Horns