Megamosh - Crossover Thrash and the Siren Call of the Necro Lands

Back from the icy wastelands of Hoth, via the space elevator made of dicks, I have returned. Through epic drudgery, and exciting boredom, I have returned to you from afar, which is actually just the corner liquor store with a bottle of Arrow Vodka and a bundle of cheap porn mags With bonus DVDs. I forgot to buy ginger ale! Through the gargulous aeons!!!!! WE'RE THRASHING ALL AROUND!!!!! IT'S METAL NIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!

Tonight, it was just me and Demon Scourge and his wench, whose metal name I have forgotten. Metal Night has often been a party these last few weeks, but it's's nice to just once in a while lay back and reflect on the more subtle points of a subtle genre of music, thrash fucking metal. First up, we heard the first self title album album from Dr. Living Dead, who hail from that birthing ground of retro metal, Sweden. This album is of interest mainly for it's oddly deliberate jumble of thrash metal styles. You get a Nuclear Assault riff here, a Slayer riff there, DRI all over the place, lots of Bay Area thrash touches, and gang shouts galore. But the thing that makes it stand out from total generic status is come chorus time, Suicidal Tendencies is deftly pilfered. This is really the first thrash band I've heard to deliberately rip off Suicidal, right down to naming one of their songs 'Feeding The Cyco'. But all in all, this is a competent moshfest, and enjoyable for how many blatantly stolen riffs can be identified. 

Into the Necro Lands Part 1.1 - Cemetery Mass 

The cold afternoon air was filled with the shouts and grunts of labor. Bare trees, reaching their skeletal limbs to the gray sky above watched impassively as the humans below carried out their toil on the weird structure in the clearing. Black cloaked druids were swarming around the building, some measured and shouted orders, others were levitating the dark stones and dropping them into place where faceless ghouls were carving sacred symbols into the finished portions with their hellish

instruments. Fine snow, blown by the icy wind, created a freezing mist that made it almost impossible for me to stay on the trail, but I followed the pounding and barking din until the shadowy form of Jenkabala Temple loomed there in front of me. Past expressionless druid and snarling ghoul I strode, circling our new home to examine the work that had been done that day. Built by applying the principals of sacred geometry learned by Hellmaster in the Time Desert, the temple had five spires of differing heights connected to a central chamber. I rounded the corner of the first tower, admiring the stonework and elegant cuneiform markings that covered the south facing surfaces. For just a moment, the clouds broke and a single beam of reddish sunlight fell on the wall next to me, illuminating the spells uopn it. "Brother!" A voice called out and from the gloom emerged Bloodmace, clad in furs and spiked leather armor. "Come, we have visitors from afar. Let us repair to the temple and greet them." Returning to the front of our reborn palace, we went, through the doors that bore the Jenkabala crest and into the heart of our kingdom.

But the winner of the night, for me anyway, was the mighty return of DRI frontman Kurt Brecht in the Texas super group Pasadena Napalm Division 2013 self titled album. Holy fucking shit did this album kick my ass. It is crossover thrash. There is a retro sensibility. The riffs are sharp and original, with a nice tinge of dissonance, courtesy of lamented Texas weirdos Dead Horse. These are men, pushing 50, who instill in these tunes a gleefully sophomoric skater punk sensibility with a horror movie themes, and wry cynicism. Mr. Brecht has not lost a step, attacking the lyrics with the exhilarating rhythmic blitzkrieg that marked his work with DRI. Also, he still sounds like a pissed off 17 year old. Fucking awesome.  

Into the Necro Lands Part 1.2 - Always Youth 

We met the travelers in the main temple. Dim light filtered through the glass dome above as we made our way through the maze of plants to the enclosure in the middle of the chamber that served as the listening room for our sacred rites. Entering the candlelit space, we are greeted by Lady Birdblood and her companions, Losi of the Wolfskeep, staring out gravely from beneath her headdress, dark hair cascading down her thin shoulders and The Maddaughter Tesa who was clad in the striking leather armor of her people witch was covered everywhere in sharpened talons of wyvern. We exchange

greetings and the flame-haired Birdblood presents us with a bag of heads they have gathered on their travels and speaks of their reason for coming, "The west is in grave danger, the Nest of Evil was overrun last night by the necrofolk. Had it not been for Maddaughter Tesa, we would surely be walking in Narn now." Behind her, Losi rose from the velvet chair and spoke up with an alarming necro rasp of the kind favored by the very clan that had just perpetrated this act of bloodshed, "I was forced to hide the wolves from them." She gargled, "My pack is no longer safe in the western lands. Necro Baby and Iron James have turned the necro lands into an inferno." Bloodmace strokes his chin with a ceremonial dagger, the sacred blade flicking errant beard hairs to the ground. "Necro Baby" He mumbles, "The necro lands call to us, brother." He looks to me with a spark in his eye that warns of impending danger and sudden violence. "Our first act must be to storm Nest of Evil and root out the foul interlopers. I want to taste their cold, black blood!" I am about to raise my voice in protest of my brothers rash call to arms when Maddaughter joins the verbal fray, using the legendary spirit voice of the Uraks, "Stop this foolishness, we came here for help, not to be led into the dead one's trap." All are silent. Even Bloodmace, whose unending stubbornness usually makes him impervious to enchantments of this type is listening with rapt attention. "Why do you think they strike at your stronghold Lady Birdblood? They want to drive us here, where their real quarry lies." She looks at my brother and I, "Oh, we will attack them, and slit their filthy necks with blades of steel." Tesa unsheathes her sword and looks intently at the blade for a moment, "But there will be no way out for them, and they will know the name of the hand that rips the last spirit from their tattered bodies." A hundred candles, one for each god of the Jenkabala pantheon, cast flickering shadows on the crystal walls of the listening room and for a moment there is silence as we all ponder this undertaking. From far away, the bell sounds for the evening meal as the last tiny snowflakes drift past Jenkabala Temple.

But Demon Scourge is an old school thrasher to the deep fucking bone, and was more impressed by the old school thrash sounds of SDI and their 1988 album Sign of the Wicked. This is decent German thrash, kind of like Helloween, but with raspier, less operatic vocals. I can't really fault this album, it's a thrashfest for damn sure, but to my ears it's kind of, well, average. I expect more evil than heroics from my German thrash bands. Gimme some witchy vocals fuckers! Well,  this cause obvious grief to Demon Scourge, and what a might sword battle we had! I cut a bitch! I cut a motherfukin'' bitch!!!!!!!!!

Words of the Elders
Thus the tale of the Necro Lands begins. What terrible secrets does that dark wilderness hold? What enemies lurk unseen in the rocky canyons and rolling hills of Centon's agricultural capitol? The dead are alive there among the neat rows of tatstal and tak corn, and they are on the move. Under the evil rule of Necro Baby, the long suffering dead are marching out to crush village after village, but they are about to meet an enemy equal to the might of their powerful necromancers. 

Until next week, skullcrushers and hell raisers, 







Horns