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