Exiled to the Abyss - Bildorf's Island Hell and Old Men Ranting in the Jenkabala Night

We are old dudes. Demon Scourge and I live in the realm of the Glory Daze, raised on the mothers milk of 80's thrash, 90's black metal, hordes of Priest and Maiden imitators, Priest and Maiden, Motorhead, and most anything else righteously labeled 'old school'. But we do arise from the musty basement of yesteryear upon occasion, flames and smoke peeking out the cellar door, about once a year, at the end of the year, to check out some new shit, hoping we are not too disappointed. And we were not. 2014 was a stellar year for metal, and here is some of the shit that we liked.

Behemoth's The Satanist has made so many top ten lists this year that it's kind of ridiculous. But the accolades are well deserved. I've never been a fan of their blackened death metal phase; too much overblown and gimmicky histrionics, not enough dynamics. But this flaw has been corrected, and Behemoth have crafted a masterpiece. Big production meets compositional strength, the riffs and atmosphere taking you to in surprising direction, but always grounded a brutal fistfuck of sound. Refreshingly, the annoying overdriven vocals of yesteryear have been toned down a couple notches, and the tempos are not a ridiculous spastic blur. Say what you will about the quasi-mall metal image, this album is a wet blowjob to Satan, and is the winner of the night, of that night, when ever it was.

Into the Necro Lands Part 15.1 - Riders of the Doom

Rygar the Seeker stood stood before us on the precipice of rocky coral and sea junk, looking out on the shipyard concealed within this weird island. He turned toward Bloodmace and I with a flourish of his dusty cape and stroked his close cropped beard, “Below is the heart of Bildorf's might.” He pointed down to the

vast cavern, filled with vessels hijacked from every corner of the Dakti Ocean, “I came here with my troops, who are quartered below, to take you back to the mainland before Necro Baby can strike back at Bildorf. We must act now.” Bloodmace steps forward and replies, “Without our battle jackets, we don't have much in the way of magic, but I have this.” He brandishes his spirit mace with a bloodthirsty look. Rygar unsheathes his machete in solidarity and with a rougeish smile motions us to follow, “the plan is already in motion,” pausing to look at his watch, “Three, two, one...” An explosion rocks the cave, “Hurry! Down this passage!”

Oh, we also listened to Godflesh's triumphant return album, A World Lit Only By Fire. There a no real innovations or major changes to their sound, for this can be non other than a Godflesh album. The band revisits some old tropes, some old riffs, and remixes them in a hellishly hypnotic din of torment and anguish. The sound is rather dry and compressed, but that's a minor poo poo. They have thankfully gotten their old drummer back, who is a drum machine. Welcome to your unique hell.

So the next week we kept it up and listened to a ton of new shit. First, we heard Pallbearer's hip hipster friendly doom trip, Foundations of Burden. This is a vast improvement over their overhyped debut. Better
riffs and sweeter melodies go down like smooth vodka on a winters night, and then often 10 minute long songs never get boring or feel drawn out. Good shit right here, dude. They will fill up the Pyramid Scheme when they come to town, guaranteed.

German thrash standard bearers Tankard released R.I.B.(Rest In Beer) this year, and all is right with the world. This album contained no surprises, but was a solid, well-crafted riff fest. Not much else to say about this album but that it inspired some serious headbanging and an air guitar attack by yours truly.

The wonderfully monikered Pestifer fucked our fucking faces with their tech death extravaganza, Reaching The Void. As wonderful as it is to find a good new technical death metal album that doesn't just sound like Cryptopsy, this album doesn't break much ground. It is a familiar mix of ground tread by Death, Necrophagist, and host of other nimble fingered face fuckers. Quite good.

Into the Necro Lands Part 15.2 - Tree of Thorns

In the terrifying moments we spent careening down the collapsing tunnel I lived a hundred lifetimes. All around us, chaos was taking hold. Ahead I could see the exit, so I bolted forward, but I could tell something was not right the moment I left the crumbling passage. Energy bolts exploded all around me as debris

continued to rain down on my head. Bildorf's henchmen, who jumped in surprise as we barreled out of the aperture behind them, were being fired upon by the minions of Necro Baby, who had arrived ahead of schedule. We wasted not a moment of their unpreparedness, I ran the first through with my trusty longsword while Bloodmace reduced the other two to a wretched pile of pulp with the feared weapon of his people. Rygar shouted from behind us, “Look out, Necrites!” Swooping down from above, two black winged deadbirds screamed their war cry, skeletal riders raining arrows down on the rocky beach. I leap for the cover of a nearby boulder but as I turn I can see, almost in slow motion, an arrow about to hit its mark. In an instant, the seeker of Thrashstone deflects the projectile with his cape as feathered serpents swarm over the rise and smash the undead warriors. Rygar shouts to Bloodmace and I, “Quickly, mount a serpent! To the mainland and Sekran!” We join their procession and after a precipitous ascent, I behold through my nausea and fear the attack on Bildorf's island by the Necromancer's forces. Just as we ride into the setting sun, I get a chilling glance of a tremendous baby rising out of the sea...

But the winner of the fucking night was Dawnbringer's heavy metal bad assness, Night of the Hammer. This was a great find. It is well composed, ballsy heavy metal with clean, Nordic inspired vocals and harmonies, and lyrics, and a dark, old school black metal ala Merciful Fate feel. We were blown away by the quality and sweetness. It is a dark chocolate bar filled with crack nuggets. Definitely checking out their back catalogue.

Words of the Elders

AkKachakRak! Aid us in the hour of peril, FarNnAl, Sepchoug! Come int the house of Tam! War has come to the realm of the titans and the terrible brothers are caught in the middle again. The swirling void of disaster has been activated and fear will rule the land. Paura nella cittia' dei morte viventi!

Until next time hellhordes,

Horns

To Glory We Steer - The Lazy Man's Guide to Being Lazy

Gentle and steadfast reader, my apologies. I am a lazy fucking bastard and have neglecting my Metal Night duties. I spend so much time jacking off to furry porn that I sometimes forget to bathe or dress myself. Thus, the make-up post. I'm gonna tell you about some albums we listened to that were great, and maybe one that wasn't so great. Then I'm going to go back to jacking off. Onwards to gloryhole!!!

Well, last night was fucking crazy because we listened to a bunch of 1980's ers K-tell Metal compilation cassette's. This was the shit they would sell at Meijer's or K-mart for $5 and usually include at a bunch of bands that were only marginally metal. But the best one was the thrashy Metal Meltdown. Released in 1988,  featuring a nice mix of thrash, like Anthrax and Exodus, with traditional bands like Judas Priest and Accept, and smattering of hair metal, like Vinnie Vincent Invasion.  Whoever slapped this together seemed to have a good sense of what metal actually is, unlike the other douche bags who hurriedly slapped together all those other comps. 

The week before we checked out a bunch of blackened doom and Barathrum caught my ear. Their 1997 album Infernal is slow and doomy black metal, a churning cauldron of slow brewing hatred, Bathory meets
Celtic Frost in Darkthrone's rehearsal space. Good shit, is all I've got to say. I strangled a kitten to death while listening to this. That's what black metal is for. 

And then previously, we fucked around and listen to some horror themed Metal. Macabre's goofy thrashy death/grind antic won the night. Sinister Slaughter is an early 90's death metal classic. A serial killer
themed concept album, it is both entertaining and ripping, with some deft, non-flashy guitar work and a nimble rhythm section. This album jacks off with the entrails of your mom in a charnel house of pain and woe. Whoa!

The sky was bright and clear when Vecton and I boarded the hovercraft and set on our way to the outpost of Iron Dan. Gliding across the autumnal landscape of our beloved Jenkabala, with it's fiery reds and oranges, we silently contemplated the deeds of this mystic of the north. Son of Parthon the Elder, he was present at the great battle of Samur, when the Wyvern were defeated and the last surviving priest of the

T'Chah Karnac was freed from his prison. He was the warrior who bound Iron James to the battle jacket in order to contain the fearsome Necro Baby back in the days of pride. Gray factories whiz by the windows, dark and teeming with foul mutants who suck the meat from their victims bones with a chilling screech. When at last we passed from this cursed place into Abrin, land of aviation and commerce, the sun was sinking below the horizon and the shadows stretched out to envelop us like great dark arms. Our craft hummed through the maze of plain stone buildings until we reached the bunker of the legendary wizard. The oak doors swing open and there before us is the man himself. Wrapped in the iridescent cloth of his forefathers, he spoke to us, “Enter friends, there is much to be done.” Indeed, there was much to be done, for on this night we were to examine bands from the early days of Japanese metal. Little did we know it would very nearly cost us our sanity.

Brave Bomber – Warlike power metal, this band eventually changed their name to Gaisen March and continue to this day as a ferocious, militaristic speed metal band. We listened to their First Bomb and Second Bomb demos. They were the most recent band we listened to and you can hear the echos of the nascent German power metal scene in their sound.

Breaker – Though the “Heroes' Metal” and “I Wish You to Feel the Great Heavy Metal” demos we listened to came out, respectively, in '88 and '91, the sound is pure NWOBHM with, of course, a lot of Accept

influence. Japan has always been known as a bastion of heavy metal fandom and Breaker is most definitely a product of that community. The earlier demo showcases a much less fashionable denim and leather approach to the music, while the later adds a bit more dimension with longer song structures and more varied songwriting.

Outrage – Bay area thrash comes to Nagoya. Probably the most successful band we listened to (certainly one of the few who made it our of the demo stage.) This EP is Metallica worship through and through, enjoyable but derivative. I listened to some of their later material and they seemed to go mainstream hard rock at some point.

Precious – Power metal anthems with tasteful synth and a Dio/Dokken feel. I found this album to be a fun, inconsequential offering. A frothy confection spiced up with some exciting prog rock elements. According to Metallum, the band was formed by the Japanese heavy metal label Mandrake Root to promote their new guitar hero, Akria Kajiyama. This album makes perfect sense when you consider that one of Kajiyama's later projects, a tribute to Rainbow, would lead him to a gig as a main collaborator with Joe Lynn Turner for a good chunk of the early 2000's

Ageless – I get the feeling they are known more for the unhinged engrish rant on the back of this EP than the good, Neat Records influenced metal these derelicts banged out in some unknown studio. Nice, speedy riffage dominates most of the running time and vocalist Yoshiyuki Nogura pulls off a decent version of the 'ol heavy metal screech. It's too bad the only thing they put out after this was a demo from '87 that seems to have slipped through the cracks of time.

Battle Axe – All that remains of this slick, all-female ensemble from Osaka is two demos from 1985. Sounding something like Girlschool, they rip through some great metal anthems on the recording we heard, Battle Axe 3.

Cry-Max – My pick for band of the night. There was something about the sneering delivery and the hateful fuzz guitars of the last track, Abungald Coup d'Etat that made my ears perk up. When the vocals finally cede to an instrumental break, the searing synth lead that follows made me lo0se my shit. I'm not usually one for this type of shenanigans in my metal, but Cry-Max won my heart from the very first track. Half of the band moved on to the early visual kai band Gilles de Rais. 

With each album, Iron Dan and Vecton the Bard spun further into madness. Spells were cast with flaming hands and screams of madness echoed through the night. Ancient guardians gathered from dimensions unknown to witness the explosive competition of these weird mortals, each striving to prove his magic the most powerful. When at last I feared these two would crack open the very ground upon witch we stood and the enchanted bunker felt as though it was about to burst from the spiritual energy within, a familiar voice boomed out, “Hai! What's all this then?” Through the thick clouds and floating ash, Bloodmace of Waylor strode, cape billowing out behind him. “Come, Demon Scourge, let us end this foolish game.” I followed my brother into the fray and at his signal, we both used the Stryper patches on our battle jackets to bind the wonton sinners long enough for me to enrapture them with the Dio emblem. While the dust settles and our friends recover from their sudden burst of madness, Bloodmace turns toward me, “Good thing I came back when I did. The last thing we need is another Thrashstone massacre on our hands. Now let's try some of this excellent Samurian milk pie before it gets cold”

Until next time, phantom hellriders



Horns

Sanctuary Denied - US Power Metal, A Pentagram Reflection and the Tunnel of Terror

 

Welcome, dear readers, to another report from Jenkabala Temple! It's been quite a while since our last full update but at long last the new chapter of “Into the Necro Lands” is finished and we have a new video of highlights so you can catch up with Bloodmace, Vecton and I. Speaking of that glorious pervert, Bloodmace gives his opinions on some US power metal and I offer up some reflections on my experiences at the Pentagram show, so settle in, grab a beer and a hooter, or if you prefer, a Mountain Dew code red and a vegan brownie and let us tell you tales of distant worlds....

Sanctuary-Sanctuary Denied
This is one of those albums I always saw in the cassette section at Meijer's and always overlooked in favor of the thrashier pieces from the big 4. I bought it ion the 90's and was not into the oh so metal shrieking that was oh so out of fashion by that time. But returning to this album after many years, I find that it to be a pleasingly old school power metal affair. Crisp riffery dominates, informed by thrash, but rhythmically never leaving traditional metal territory. It's amusing to note how much Judas Priest this resembles Painkiller era Priest, roughly three years before that album came out.

Metal Church-The Human Factor
The Church dudes are clearly suffering from 90s-itus on their 4th album. The much too clearly enunciated socially conscientious lyrics reflect a conservative mind set, and the songs are more mainstream rock oriented. Meh. The songs are boring, the lyrics preachy, the riffs dull, and this is clearly not one of their better albums.

Pharaoh-After The Fire
Skip forward to 2003, and Pharah are a power metal band of the new school; fully heroic, highly melodic escapism in the mold of Helloween and Blind Guardian. After the Fire, their first full length, had the most polished presentation  of all the albums considered. Laser-tuned twin guitar riffs adorn the precise gallop of the rhythm section, carrying the music of the elders into the new century. Now usually, we lean more towards the raw and chaotic as more representative of a bands real sound, but this scrubbed-clean production is genre appropriate for power metal, so on the strength of their songwriting and presentation, Pharaoh wins the night!   

Into the Necro Lands Part 14.1 - Veil of Disguise

The sound of splashing water and creaking metal had replaced the chaos of this afternoon and the sun was setting. Bloodmace and I, after being captured by Bildorf the Mad and his band of pirates, had escaped to the comparative safety of a run down industrial area some distance from his hideout on the island of Sanctum. The ground in this area of the island, such as it is, consists of sea garbage, lashed together by a strange, stone like fungus. We huddle inside a little cave, drying our clothes in the last rays of light as we plot our next move. Bloodmace, staring out at the red horizon, pounds his fist against the rough wall, "We need to get back to the mainland. The Necromancers will attack this

island, or at least Bildorf's lair..." His voice trails off for a moment, then he says conspiratorially, "Look at these assholes." Loping along the beach before us, two of Bildorf's mutants are combing the shore for their escaped prisoners. The harried barbarian is about to dash from our hiding place, but I grab his arm, "Wait, there may be more," I say, "We can't see their launch from here." Indeed, as our exchange takes place, two more pair of uniformed henchmen enter our view. They cannot see us, but we both watch them motion towards our cave. The time to act was here, but then a shadow passed over the little hill, then two more. Three gliders shot across the blue sky, dropping bags of a substance that filled the air with smoke as they landed. From outside, the sound of confused shouting drifted in with the

smoke.We turned at once to search for a passage deeper into this cavern. With our eyes adjusted to the darkness already, we slipped down into a small crevasse as the sound of footsteps came from the entrance. Here below the coral-like fungus, pieces of ships, their cargo and drifting garbage had coalesced into a twisted mass of rubbish that was strong enough to support the rusting factories above. We peered into the hopelessly dim cavern ahead and our hearts raced as a light approached from the other end accompanied by a soft slithering. Around the corner came the mysterious, beam, blinding us as it approached. When the lamp had moved past us, we could see a rider just behind the waist-high snake head that pushed past us. Mounted in a stirrup atop a large snake, the bearded human figure, whose eyes and hair were hidden behind goggles and a short brimmed cap, carried a silver spear with the Chevelargo runes cast into the tip. "You are of the mainland?" He asks apprehensively,

brandishing his weapon. I step forward and reply, "We are. What do you know of us?" From above, we can hear the labored grunts of mutants working their way through the narrow entrance. He points with his lantern to a hatch in the floor nearby, "Open that door and go beneath, they are here" climbing into the hidden door, I notice that below us, the ocean laps quietly. I look up at the soldier, had he betrayed us? "Just stay around the side, this won't take long." He chuckles, the door clangs shut. Above, the light goes out, leaving us in complete darkness. Quiet footsteps enter, there is a gasp and a surprised cry and warm blood drips down on us. The light turns back on and our benefactor calls to us, "Come on up, Bloodmace and Demon Scourge!" Climbing back to the main level of this bizarre chamber, I see the stranger has taken off his headgear to reveal a more or less ordinary looking man, determined eyes gazing out below a close cropped haircut, a single tendril dipping rakishly over his face. "I am called Rygar the seeker, new master of Castle Thrashstone!" His robust laughter echoes through the labyrinth as Bloodmace and I stare at one another in disbelief. 

Twenty-Five Buck Spin: Reflections on a night with Pentagram

The denim and leather crowd was out in force, along with a heavy contingent of aging rockers and the usual denizens of this downtown landmark. When I walked in back to the venue, there was a dad rock band tearing off blues licks and throwing shapes at the 8o'clock crowd, who were dutifully staking out their places for the main event. I wandered around the edges of the crowd, greeting familiar faces and soaking in the boozy ambiance. Wandering back out into the front of the bar to commiserate with the crowd just arriving from a downtown film festival, I reflected on the film about Pentagram's Bobby Liebling with it's story of an artist's September redemption through the rediscovery of his work. Having just finished a biography of misunderstood film auteur Andy Milligan, who's story has a much less crowd-pleasing ending, I soon lost myself in ruminations on what it means to truly believe in your vision. Staring at my reflection in a flashing

pinball backboard, I let my mind wander in a reverie of the dangerous cauldron of creation, boiling there within us all. How can some manage to communicate the secret story from within while others are overcome by the hypnotizing aroma of this heady brew? Is the purest art made by those who give themselves over completely to their inner world, performing for an audience of their own creation? I am stirred out of my daydream by a costumed throng, storming the bar from a bus parked outside. Just as the last of the revelers has crowded around the bar, the between set smokers from the back stampede out to the street, creating a surreal logjam that for whatever reason reminded me of the famous denouncement of The Beyond. Writhing bodies, trapped in hell forever. Across the river of humanity flowing through the main aisle of the bar, I spot an acquaintance. Dressed like Norman Bates, mom corpse in tow, Iron Dan is traveling with the party bus. We join some of his fellow filmmakers for a cocktail. All of them have been drinking since noon and it's hard to determine what anyone is even saying. I head to the back again, leaving the tower of babel to check out the third band, Radio Moscow.

Coming in about halfway through this Cream style power trio's set, I settled in to a dark corner and let the boogie blues wash over me like a warm bath. While not really my cup of tea, their bell bottoms and fur vest type sound fit snugly on the bill. Having positioned myself near the back, I slipped out before the mass of smokers stumbled through the bar and into the night. The filmmaker table has grown and I stop to ask people about their screenings while gawking at the parade of outfits on display. I spot a couple battle jackets, a bearded guy in an incredibly elaborate 70's rock getup, plenty of punx and crusties and one exquisite hand-painted leather with the cover of the self-titled Acid album. The ceaseless activity of Saturday bar night ebbs and flows. Shouted conversations, harried barbacks, Big Black blasting above the cacophony and I'm layin' in the cut, Travis Bickle with a battle jacket. Once again, my thoughts begin to drift, but then I realize it's Pentagram time. In the venue, mic check has just ended and the intro music starts. A couple years back, I heard Pentagram at Maryland Deathfest and they were good but there were problems with the sound and they had to cut their set for time. I almost stayed home, thinking about how I had seen

them already, but something made me go out and it was beyond worth it. I have never been a big Pentagram fan, my taste is more Sarcaofago than Sabbath, but when they took the stage, they owned the place. The band was tight and Liebling was in amazing voice, swooping over the churning grooves with just the right amount of grit. The crowd was transported, exultant in the moment. One thing I appreciated was Bobby's energetic performance., it was a real treat to see him in this more intimate venue. Being able to see clearly those great, expressive faces that are something of a Liebling trademark added a subtle but effective ingredient, unifying the musical flavors with a sprinkling of theatrics. It seemed only a warm, sweet moment that we were lifted into that heady realm of musical pleasure, where the crowd seems to melt into one, and then it was over. Parishioners from this Saturday night service at the church of heavy metal fill the air outside the bar with smoke and excited conversation, incense of the damned floating skyward in supplication to the ancient gods of night 

Words of the Elders

Hold steady gentle friends,for our sworn quest continues on this checkerboard of nights and days. We are keepers of the magic scrolls and forever we quest on, mapping the scorched topography of our beloved Centon and the endless minutia of heavy metal's galaxy of subdivisions. Look to the heavens voyagers, look into the eyes of the gods for majesty is your birthright and glory your legacy. 

Until next week, haunted headbangers, 

Horns 

Tech Death Therapy 2014

A few brief words on some lengthy tomes of hatred and pain, fresh out of the oven that is heated by hell. All of these were released this year, but you, oh, sinner, shall be damned to the flames for all time!!! Not that I thought you really minded. Now onto the tunes.

Cannabis Corpse-From Wisdom to Baked

This was clearly the winner of the night as it was the most entertaining. Cannabis Corpse are evolving into a band with an actual sound of their own, not just one that is apes old school bands like C.C. or Gorguts. They are also catching up in terms of technical proficiency and deft songwriting. These are some fucking cool, sick jams. But the thing that still distinguishes them from everyone else in death is the pure genius of the lyrics. Every song still replaces weed weirdness for the usual brutal death tropes and is always hilarious and always surreal. Best single song is Pull The Carb, about using a decapitated corpse as a bong. Most amazing lyrical endeavour is the the three song Lovecraftian mini-opera. It's a good album to lose your mind to as you spin further and further into the obscene hell of THC addiction.

Voodoo Gods-Anticipation For Blood Leveled In Darkness

Cannibal Corpse's George 'Corpsegrinder' Fischer is the best death metal vocalist in the world. No one can equal his brootal roar complimented by razor sharp ultra fast delivery, spitting out complicated lyrical phrasing with the deftness and flow of an Eminem and the spitfire delivery of the best ultra-fast hardcore. He is also know to join the occasional super group. Voodoo Gods are a melodic yet brutal technical death band made up of death metal veterans that craft highly dynamic songs with a double vocal attack. Lyrically, it's all about voodoo, yo. Musically, it's a fist up your ass, they way you like it, with a little bit of lube and lots of sand.

 Pillory-Evolutionary Miscarriage

Pillory is an ultra technical death band in the Gorguts vein, with a little Cynic thrown in for good measure. 1000 riffs are thrown at you at once while the band attempts to impress the shit out of you with their thick stew of chunky bits and razor blade riffs. It's a commendable, if tedious listen, as these really smart dudes simply forget about songwriting. Sooo many riffs. A few of them are pretty good.

Until we kill you again. Hailz!!!

Blackened Fucking Thrash, You Tot Munching Lunatics!!!!!!!!!!!

In the Gallery of Blood and Tots comes the Night. In the time of Leeches and Slime comes forth the Shadow Scroll. I'm rambling like a Time Desert platypus. I straddle the Glue Huffers Oracle. This is the Night of Blackened Thrash! Onto the  reviews!

      Midnight's new album, No Mercy For Mayhem, is fucking rad and pretty much what you'd expect from these perverts. Straightforward blackened thrash ala Motorhead, Venom, and early Metallica. The riffs are solid, the rhythm steady and fierce, the songs simple and to the point. EVIL!!!! EVIL!!!!! That's the chorus to the first song, Evil Like A Knife. I wish Atherer's vocals were a little more distinctive and melodic, but the shrieking growl keep hold down the black to an otherwise traditional sound.


     Shitfucker's 2013 opus won our hearts as Winner of the Night! Sucks Cocks In Hell  is extremely dirty, filthy thrash, sounding like it was concocted in a Brazilian sex dungeon. Nothing fancy here. Filth piled on punked up, thrashed out filth. At times it's so filthy it feels like grindcore, but the riffs and rhythms are firmly rooted in thrash. The best thing about the album are the insane lyrics. Songs like Rock n Roll Freaky Dude are not without a trace of irony (sounds like these guys listen to tons of Japanese thrash like Abigail), but are so unhinged and batshit insane the hipster element is quickly forgotten. Great stuff from the Dirty D.


     Last, we heard the Indianapolis dirt merchants called Maax.  Thier 2011 album, Unholy Rock N Roll, is a a gruffer beast, sounding like it was made by meth fiend bikers on a cornhole frenzy. It's tight, uncomplicated thrash metal with growly black metal vocals. The album drags on too long, though. These toughs are gonna kick you in the balls for several hours. Nuff said. Hailz the blackened thrash!!!!!!!!!

Waylordian Magic and the Invocation of the Dead

Fiends, sycophants, gather round!!! Recently, I, Bloodmace, had the opportunity to invoke the ancient Waylorian Rite of the Dead at the Invocation Ceremony at the Dragon's Milk Gallery of Horrors and Church of True Metal. This a record of the word and the deeds of this fate event.  I take full responsibility. 

I am Bloodmace!!!!!!! Son of Bloodhammer, Brother of Demon Scourge, Warrior of Centon, Guardian of The Time Desert and the multidimensional lands, Hammer of the Wyverns and many such vile beasts, Scion of Waylor, Priest of Jenkabala Temple.

I am here to give you secret knowledge from this magic scroll called.....the Necro Laptop. I seek to give you pleasure and pain.....PAIN!!!!!! such pain with my words and....such pleasure! I learned, long ago, from the wizards of Waylor, who wear the foreskins of their enemies around their necks as magic totems of power, the vile secrets of Waylorian magic. You see, Waylorian magic is a form of necromancy. In order for Waylorian magic to work it's vile essence, a life must be taken, and it's soul transformed through the patches of power, and unleashed back into the body of the victim, turned forever into a soulless husk to be directed by the whims of the Waylorian wizard. Through such a vessel are the Spells fo Power enacted, to be used by the Wizard as a Zombie of Revenge!! I am such a Waylorian Wizard!!! And I shall now perform an act of Waylorian magic, for your entertainment. Who shall be my victim?? Who among you gives yourself willingly to the my evil gnosticism and dark art?

Yes, my friend, come to me!!! Stand here. Do not move. Don't be a dick!

I shall now begin the ritual. You have given yourself to me completely.

THROUGH THE VENOM PATCH, I RELEASE EVIL SPIRITS FROM THE REALM OF THE DEAD!!!!!

THROUGH THE SLAYER PATCH, I CALL UPON THE GOD OF THE UNDERWORLD TO UNLEASH HIS SWORD AGAINST THE WILLING VICTIM!!!! DIE BY THE SWORD OF THE DEAD, THOU VICTIM!!!!! DIE!!!! DIE!!!!!! DIE!!!!!!!!

THROUGH THE DEATH PATCH, I COMMAND YE DEAD SPIRITS TO ENTER THE LIFELESS CORPSE OF MY WILLING VICTIM!!!! IA!!! IA!!!! GO FORTH!!!! GO FORTH!!!!!!! RISE OH WILLING VICTIM!!!! RISE!!!!!! RISE!!!!!!

THROUGH THE ENSLAVED PATCH, I COMMAND THEE TO BE MY SERVANT FOR ALL TIME, UNTIL THE SKIN DROPS FROM YOUR BONES TO BE DEVOURED BY WORMS!!!!

TO COMPLETE THE SPELL, I SAY THE WORDS IN THE LANGUAGE OF THE ANCIENT UNDEAD KINGS OF WAYLOR!!!! HOSH CA MA THA CLUTTU MAKKA RYE!!!! WAYLOR SAN NECROTTA NISH GINTU HAKKA LIE!!!!! ARISE!!! ARISE!!!! GET OFF YOUR ASS AND RISE!!!!!!!!

As you can see, this willing victim is now my magic vessel of doom, ready to fuck your shit up at any time that I please. ahahahahahahahahaha!!!

BUT WAIT!!!! WHAT IS THIS???? This cannot be!!! Why are you going to Necrobaby??? She has no power here??? You are my servant!!! I command you to desist!!!! Desist!!!!! THE NECROBABY HAS TAKEN OVER MY WAYLORIAN ZOMBIE!!!! She is more power than I possibly could have imagined!!! WE ARE DOOMED!!! DOOMED!!!! FLEE FOR YOUR LIVES!!!!!!!!! FLEE!!!!!!!!

OH, DESPAIR CENTON!!!!!! DESPAIR!!!!!!

Crucible of the Sun - Metal from Los Angeles and Bildorf's Kingdom

Los Angles has an ambivalent history when it comes to metal. The birthplace of Slayer, Metallica, and Metal Blade, it was also the nurturing womb of the 80's glam scene. The center of the film and music industry, it embodies what is putrid, superficial, and shallow about mainstream American culture. Fucking posers live there. Fuck  those fuckin' posers!!!!!! None the less, LA is diverse enough to embody a rich diversity of metal. We here at Metal Night celebrate the obscure also-rans from the 80's; those forgotten heshers of yore, who, playing right along side the hairspray kings, went back to their day jobs when the 80's fog cleared.

We started with Witch's 1984 EP, The Hex Is On. Witch are your prototypical 1984 heavy metal band in the WASP and Twisted Sister mode. They were known for their bombastic live shows, but failed to make any of that translate into a decent record deal. This is a very likeable headbanger, but formulaic and cheaply recorded. The riffs have heft and the songs the tight, concise and catchy, but the performances seems constrained and constipated. This would have been a great band to see at the Whiskey or the Rainbow back in the day.

Into the Necro Lands Part 13.1 - Fire in the Hole

The sea was dark and tempestuous, it had been for days. The fierce black waves tossed this craft about like a leaf in the wind. At the helm was Captain Bildorf the Mad, a gray haired fireball of a man, whose eyes burned with the fire of unchecked passions and sordid vices. Barking orders from

the quarterdeck to his strange crew of nautical looking humanoids and amphibious saurons, he pilots the the ancient frigate through these rough waters as a demon through the lake of fire. Bloodmace and I, captives of this ranting fool, bore our burden as beat we could. "I shall rid the ocean of these sea turkeys" He shouted in an unhinged rasp, "Sharna, fetch me a net!" No sooner had he been granted the item called for, he shrieked, "Now behead this sheep! The sea turkey is not a quarry to be hunted for pleasure, the gods curse those who would presume to their game!" The poor devil with wet, bulging eyes and a protruding jaw whimpered for mercy but the sword fell upon his neck without mercy. Blood sprayed in a great arc from the fallen body, splattering us in the cage where we had been roughly forced into days ago at the port of Sekran. Our captor now turns to us, "You'll see, Jenkabalan fools, when you gaze upon the Sanctum, your hearts will turn to the water. Your friend Chanthoth is an old fool, we will attack Sekran, sack it of its wealth and waste the necro scum there." Bloodmace,

enraged by his captivity and the bold words of this pirate can take no more, "What do you know of Chanthoth?" He growls, "You may defeat the body, but the head will lie on. Your treasure won't help you against the undead." Bildorf hurls the tin cup he is holding at the bars before us, "Shut up shut up, shut up! I, Bildorf, king of the Takra sea shall claim Sekran for my own. No longer shall my people float endlessly on this black ocean, for I have come as the redeemer, the king...the god." His voice trails off as his eyes wander towards the horizon.

The rarity of the night was Beowulf and their 1980 anomaly Slice of Life. This is, essentially, a New Wave of British Heavy Metal band transplanted to LA. I can think of no other American bands who sounded like this in 1980. Metal bands in the US in this era sounded either like Van Halen, Ted Nugent, AC?DC, ect. Essentially, this is an American version of Holocaust or Witchfynde. The riffs are primitive, the songs are rather meandering, the vibe is mysterious. Very cool.

Into the Necro Lands Part 13.2 - Damnation

The dawn had just broken when I was jostled awake by Bloodmace, "Holy shit, you won't believe this." I open my eyes to the orange morning light falling dramatically upon what could only be our destination, Sanctum. Behind, before and around us, a fleet had materialized. Floating transports of every kind now sailed with us. Fast Iron gunships, captured bio craft from the days of the T'chah Karnac and many tremendous rusty barges. The maddest thing of all, however, was before us, and growing ever larger. A floating platform that stretched out as far as the eye could see in either direction, teeming with life. In one area, rolling hills, covered with plant life and dotted with

farmhouses gave the illusion of a pastoral countryside, as we sailed round the perimeter the hills gave way to a great city, its mirrored surfaces gleaming beneath the ever rising sun. We moved slowly closer to the vast structure, spiraling around this weird island to our destination. Towards afternoon, after sailing past what appeared to be a manufacturing center, we reached the opposite side of Bildorf's kingdom. This part of Sanctum was rusty and crumbling. We angled inward where there was a cavernous portal in the high wall, "Now you will see something!" Bildorf cackles as we pull through the darkness into the bright light at the end of the grotto. Indeed, as we entered this unusual port, I had to agree. The ship was slowed by uniformed crew around the sides and spun around so that we were now facing the passge from witch we entered. Ropes were attached to the back and the ship dragged into place. from the arches around the first floor of the circular chamber, men and maids, dressed in glowing white began to filter in, chanting, "At'cran Kib, vista E'kit." Bloodmace and I look at one another, shocked, for we both recognize this phrase at once, it is in the Huiskitel dialect and is a call to an obscure god of their pantheon, Kib. In more recent history, Kib became part of the composite goddess Thvnivt when the T'chah Karnac came to power. Bildorf, now wearing the

fearsome mask of his namesake god is ringing a large bell his servants have wheeled onto deck. With a motion of his hand the guards fling open the door to our cage and the solders behind us prod our backs with long spears. Though no look passes between us, or word of communication, we both sense the opportunity before it and immediately size upon it. Ducking down, I grab a spear and run forward as Bloodmace shoves the cage against the wall behind us, crushing our tormentors. Jumping from the bow beneath a hail of arrows from the upper levels of Bildorf's stronghold the cold water engulfs us...

Cheese masters Axehammer, though, stole the night! Lord of the Realm osa 1998 compilation of a never released album, demo, and live tracks. This is a fucking screaming ironfest, swords held high, axes ready to to cleave your skull into fucking pieces, wizards ready to curse your name to hell! Maiden and Priest are main points of reference. This is manly metal for leather clad men with hairy chests who have come to save the day from the Antichrist. To have seen these dudes sharing the same stage with Agent Steel back in 1985 would have caused Demon Scourge to jizz molten steel for days. And me, too. There are better bands, but these dudes stole our prickly hearts.

Finally, thrash oddballs Laaz Rocket thrashed us into the thrashing night with their thrash opus Annihilation Principle.This is a solid and sturdy state of the art thrash blast from 1989. The thrashing never stops. Even the clunk Dead Kennedy's cover doesn't slow it down.  The production adequately chunky, harsh and clear. The only real criticism are the generic, unmemorable songs. Otherwise, this can be enjoyed as a thrashing riff fest of thrashing madness. Thrash thrash thrash!!!! Thrash!

Words of the Elders

Look well upon the deeds of the gods. Did they not also fight and die? The spirit world is never far away in Centon and it is not unknown that gods will manifest here to settle disagreements. Could this madman, claiming to be a god, hold the key to Necro Baby's aims? Darkness is falling below, leaving light to its mischievous ways above.

Until next week, metal marauders, 






Horns