Blackout - The return of Chanthoth and a Visit With the Scorpions

I never would have listened to the Scorpions back in 1991. This dedicated thrasher was just getting into grunge and death metal and Faith No More and a whole bunch of bands like Mind Funk and Fishbone that I don't care about anymore. The Scorpions were just cheesy coked up washed up Spinal Tapped rock whores whose biggest hit, Winds of Change, was the worst song in the world. I mean, The Zoo and Rock You Like A Hurricane weren't bad songs, they were fun at karaoke, but otherwise, fuck the Scorpions. But alas, I grew older and then came the internet and I got the opportunity to check out some back catalogs. And let me tell you something....old school Scorps is the fuckin' shit, dude! Check it out! Owwww!

So we started with their 1976 classic Virgin Killer, whose original album cover would probably get them all thrown in jail if released today. This album is the founding document of their metal sound, having spent the early 70's as a Hendrixy hard hippy noodle band. The riffs, leads(via Uli Jon Roth, whose sound prefigures Yngwie) and sharp soaring harmonies set the fucking standard. Just check out the chorus of Catch Your Train and try to get that fucker out of your head for the next three weeks. There are a couple semi-funky misfires, sung by Uli Roth, but's its always fun listening to German guys get funky. And, of course, the sucky ballad that became a staple for every album they would ever release. But whatever. The title track is as intense as anything you are ever going to hear from 1976.


Into the Necro Lands Part 3.1 - Polar Nights
The winter had come early in the necro lands and the transport we had stolen from the supply depot chugged slowly across the monochrome plains east of Lady Birdblood's Nest of Evil. Snow whipped down from the brooding sky, obscuring everything but the immediate area around the rusty lorry. Since daybreak, Maddaughter Tesa had been driving us through this wasteland, slogging down the

rough two track path made almost impassable by the sudden storm. Bloodmace and I were in the back with Losi of the Wolfskeep while Birdblood used her navigator to keep us on the path to her stolen kingdom. "Ok, the turn is right up..." Birdblood squinted her eyes below blood red bangs as her gaze darted between the screen and the road ahead. "...Here." Tesa jerked the wheel left, the truck banked and seemed like it was going to roll as the back end spun out and around. In slow motion, I saw the massive spray of snow thrown out by the spinning vehicle and then we came to a stop. 

The next album, was the winner of the night. Taken By Force is a harder, more metal beast. The hilariously anthemic Steamrock Fever starts the album out the right way, a commercial metal juggernaut that is catchy and rockin'. Also, if you are looking to the Scorps for lyrical depth, look elsewhere, unless you want a chuckle, since they are a model of English as a second language buffoonery. The album center piece, Sails of Charon, is the best pure metal song they ever wrote, melding classical riffery with rock n roll elegance, uncharacteristly upping the IQ quotient of this album . This is a sweet album. This was the last album with Uli Jon Roth.


 Into the Necro Lands Part 3.2 - Sails of Charon

"Fuck this" Tesa hollered, slamming her fist on the steering wheel. Everyone was unhurt after our wipe out, but we now were stuck with the rear passenger side of our transport wedged on to a mound of packed snow. "Alright," I suggested, "Bloodmace and I can get us on the road" My brother nodded

and we all piled out into the blizzard. Day was starting to fade, turning the already bleak landscape even more murky. We were about to use our Immortal patches to call some snow demons to aid us when a figure emerged from the gloom. My heart began to race when I caught sight of the gauzy figure, for as its aspect became clearer to me I realized we had been tracked all the way by Necro Baby's minions. With the body and face of a great cat, but covered all over with tough rhino hide, there was no mistaking the undead hissing and vacant stare. The beast charged at me, but was cut short with a swipe from Tesa's heavy battle ax, its blood crystallizing in the frozen air as it exploded from the twitching body. For a moment there was silence as we all stood in a circle, weapons at the ready, then the battle exploded. Two more deadcats bounded into view, along with their keepers, horrible boar-like humanoids, naked and screaming, swords and pistols in the air. Losi, who had gone into the wolfskin and transformed herself into a hulking gray wolf, immediately took out one of them out, tearing away its whole throat as she whizzed by. The other took a shot at our friend with his handgun, but Bloodmace scorched him with a blast from the Venom patch. Suddenly one of the deadcats was upon him. I rushed over to help, tossing a dagger into the foul beasts forehead. Looking behind me, I could see Tesa running through the snow toward the remaining foe. I took a deep breath and turned to see what I could do for the truck when I heard the booming voice of Bloodmace, "Holy fuck, it's a convoy people, get on your feet!" Indeed, coming down the rough road were a dozen pair of headlights. They couldn't yet see us, but there would be no hiding from them now. Tesa approached, as did Losi and Birdblood. We gathered at the transport. Tesa spoke first, "Let us battle, we'll crush them into dust" She gripped the ax in one hand and a longsword in another. "Battle it is,"

Bloodmace shouted and raised his fist into the air with unabashed glee. Losi, still in wolf form, growled approvingly. "Wait." A familiar voice burst out, "I have a better idea." Seemingly out of nowhere, Chanthoth, last of the T'Chah Karnac, wandered in before us. "Follow me, I have a secret retreat up here, and I might be able to help you with your problem in the tree fort" We followed the lightly clad relic into a stand of pine trees nearby as we heard the shouts and hisses of the posse who had been sent to find us discovering our abandoned vehicle and the slaughter nearby. "Do like I do!" Chanthoth yelled back at us. We followed as he ran up to a small hill before a frozen pond. Black ducks scattered as he jumped from the small ridge and broke through the ice, dark water glugging behind him. "This better work!" I yell to my brother in midair. There is a crack of ice, a rush of cold, then darkness.

Skip ahead few years to 1982 and the Scorpions release one of their biggest albums, the party rock classic Blackout. This is pure arena metal; hooks galore, slick as hairspray, loud, proud, and kinda dumb. Quite enjoyable, especially after a few beers. You have heard the first three songs on this album played a zillion times on classic rock radio, especially 'No One Like You'. You might have gotten laid to these songs.


Words of the Elders
Sister moon, hear our cry! Brother wolf, come now to the aid of your pack! In the blackest of nights, the tribe will come together, so it goes on centon. Hail to the black firre that burns down within the souls of humankind on the timepiece world! Hail to the deep river and the mantle of sorrow! Winter has come early in the necro lands and fear blows with the snow.

Until next week, bloody butchers, 






Horns

Excruciating Commands - Random Extreme Metal and Maddaughter's Necro Raid

Hey. It's Metal Night. Time to get to the metal. One death, one black, and one grind. And the bloody random violence of Mistress Crowbastard.

First we heard French death fornicators Massacra and their workmanlike 1992 slab of steel, Signs of the Decline. You can't really fault this album except that it is absolutely unexceptional death-thrash. Expertly played, fast and slow at appropriate moments, sick and brutal most of the time, as death metal should. Scattered here and there are hints of groove metal, which is what they reemerged as on their next album. I enjoyed it, but I'm not so sure I would return to it time and time again like Gallery of Suicide or Covenant. Oh, yeah, the lyrics are a bit ponderous and a little too socially conscientious. You are not exactly Anthrax, you guys. A few songs about rotted vaginas would have been nice.

Into the Necro Lands Part 2.1 - Ghost Dance

To travel by darkness on the northern shore of Centon was a breathtaking sight, for all along the coastline, schools of darvon illuminated the water with their luminescent beaks, jumping into the air as they hunted nightbirds and scray that would perch on the jutting rocks that dotted the shallow waters of the Larksheel Sea. The splashing and cawing of predator and prey as they did their nightly dance hid the sound of our light tread as Maddaughter Tesa, Losi and Birdblood, along with

Bloodmace and I moved silently into our positions. Just out of sight on the beach ahead was a supply bunker for Necro Baby's security forces. In order to move more effectively around the countryside, Maddaughter Tesa decided that we would steal one of their trucks. My brother and I climbed on to a boulder near the water, where we could see the small shed next to a fenced yard with vehicles and pallets of food. Birdblood and Losi mounted the dune to our left, while Maddaughter walked slowly towards the lighted hovel. We couldn’t hear what the first soldier yelled as he came out the door, but as soon as he dropped to the ground three more came rushing out. Bloodmace makes a motion to rush to her aid, I put my arm out to block him. "Remember what she said...wait." The hulking barbarian halts with a sigh, but his mace remains tightly clutched in his hand while the other rests on the battle jacket. The three soldiers rush our guide with a cry we can hear from our perch, only to fall to the sand at their approach, wet pools gathering around their deathless bodies. With three rapid motions, Maddaughter Tesa beheads them, scooping up her treasures in a stained canvas bag. I can see a hand thrust out of the ground, then another and another. Soon, mummified creatures of every shape and size are converging on the warrior below. Bloodmace and I leap down from our hiding place and rush headlong into the fray.

The winner of night for me were Australian black metal brutarians Destroyer666. Also infused with thrash, but of the sick, primitive, necro variety, ala Onslaught, Venom, and Hellhammer. To The Devil His Due is a collection of remastered 7 inch eps, showcasing a few lurches in style, adding a bit of variety to the hellish din. The songs range from very raw blackened thrash to very raw black metal at varying tempos and at varying levels of necro, all delivered with primal hatred for all mankind and your weak Christian God. This is good music for drinking lots of beer and whiskey, preferably at the same time while smoking crystal meth while pissing on your mother's grave and then masturbating with sand paper while detonating a bomb at your local Presbyterian youth center. Or just chillin'.

Into the Necro Lands Part 2.2 - Dark Highway

A so-called "Necromancer's Alarm" is a powerful spell that allows a wizard to plant corpses anywhere within a certain radius and they can be animated against a foe with the flip of a switch, even by someone with no magical ability. Whoever set this trap was no amateur. There were

hundreds of leathery bodies throwing themselves at us. None were hard to kill, but they would pile over you, biting and clawing until you were dragged down. "Look out Tesa!" I cried as a blast of flame from the bathory patch exploded from my left hand, cutting a swath through the ragged throng. Losi and Birdblood were fighting their way toward the center of the maelstrom as well when we all heard the booming voice of Bloodmace, "Stand back, and let the power of christ handle these fuckers!" I whirl around just in time to see Bloodmace grabbing his Stryper belt buckle and dive to the side just as a beam of warm white light pours fourth from the waist of the mighty warrior, causing the desiccated corpses to crumble before our eyes. A horrible stench fills the air as the bodies lose form and Tesa motions to us, "Get the cruiser, we have to make tracks before Necro Baby sends help. On to the Nest of Evil!" Losi sprints to the fence and leaps over, catlike. Smashing the window of the transport with her elbow, she jumps in and has it started in moments. The timid fence puts up no resistance as the slight wolfspawn pilots the truck through the barricade and round to where we are standing. As the transport pulls away into the dunes, a black duck takes flight, winging into the sky. It vaults above the rippled sand, sailing southwest into the necro lands.

Mistress Crowbastard showed up right in the middle of grind gods Rotted Sound's second album, Drain, which was kicking our asses anyway, but Crowbastard decided to finish the job. She did this just because she felt like it. While she was pummeling us with her titanium plated num-chucks, Drain proved to be the perfect soundtrack. This is grindcore with the deftness of a jazz combo and the ferocity of a weasel on crack. Occasionally, they lapse into such jazz foolishness as such as employing the rim shot. Might as well have a flute solo to slap on top. But these moments are relatively brief. Then it is back to making your synapses into mush in exactly the way we like, which is more than I can say for the agonizing punishment doled out by Mistress Crowbastard. Ouchh!!!!!!

Words of the Elders

The necro lands are singing their deadly song. It is a poem of sorrow and hatred that speaks to the dark places, deep within the soul. Like the spear of Chemlok, our champions plunge into the heart of this mysterious land with the power of the very gods, for the time has been long since the dwellers of Centon have tasted the sweet water of freedom. 

 

Until next week, hellish hooligans, 

Horns