Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Captor of Sin - Big Four Thrash and an unexpected ally

I grew up in a conservative home and the first metal band I was allowed to listen to was Stryper, who are a Christian metal band. But since they were the only Christian metal band in the cassette aisle at Meijer, and Petra are as boring as shit, I bought Yngwie's Trilogy, KISS' Asylum, and Maiden's Somewhere In Time. I liked those albums, but something was missing. They weren't hard enough, crazy enough, bombastic enough. Pretty soon, I discovered the Big Four of Thrash, and was soon squirting my teenage jism to staccatto riffs with difficult time changes. This was my soul music. This spoke to what I was feeling and I was feeling pretty pissed off about life and really didn't have much of a sense of humor about it. The Big Four; Metallica, Megadeth, Anthrax, and Slayer, explained my youthful rage. Recently, I turned 43. For my birthday, I requested a Big 4 night, because I am apparently going through a mid-life crisis. I am not getting any younger. And I'm still pretty pissed off about life. My anger has deepened. My rage is a fine, barrel aged whiskey. I savor it.


First, we heard a certified classic that is nearly immune to criticism. What can you say that hasn't been said about Metallica's Ride The Lightening? Just the facts, I suppose. It was released in 1985 and it was the breakthrough masterpiece that catapulted them to eventual domination. This is their best album. It eschews the cliches of the debut, and it lacks the ponderousness of later thrashsterpieces. It is a sleek metal machine, a mighty meeting of riff and song, of dark atmosphere and foreboding that they never really expressed again. There is an evil vibe here. There is death. Hetfield is in his lyrical prime, expressing directly, without metaphor, the many exciting ways to die, whether by your own hand, the hand of God, by nature, by the state. And after all that, we are sucked into the primordial ooze with Cthulhu. If you can't appreciate this album, then you will never fully appreciate life itself. This would have been winner of the night, if I wasn't such an asshole.


 Into the Necro Lands Part 11.1 - Creeping Death
I produce a marker from my pocket and begin to draw, tracing out the Mournful Congregation patch from memory. Again, the bell rings, "Arvid?" Intones the tired-looking Sargent. We rise and follow him down a shabby hallway lined with tiny offices. "Have a seat, please." The gray bureaucrat motions to a couple of cheap plastic chairs on he other side of his desk as he shuffles through papers in the file cabinet. Bloodmace and I look at one another, knowing we will have to hide the sigil somewhere in this district of Sekran, as per Chanthoth's instructions. We begin the paperwork for the assassination request. Endless droning questions to witch we give false answers fill the air. "May I be excused?" I get up and walk down the hall towards the bathroom, but I walk past the wooden door and straight to the Sectaurian at the front desk. I discreetly slip the note to her as I pass and put the clay button with the magic sign on the desk. Looking at the note, she quickly grabs the forbidden object and drops it into the pen holder. I walk back to the office to answer another hundred queries before I am presented with a license for a murder that will never happen. The desk Sargent dismisses us and we amble down the hall to the receptionist’s office. Passing her desk, I spy her side a piece pf paper out in our direction. Without looking at her i snatch it up, burying it in my front pocket.

Marred by a crappy cover song, Megadeth's Peace Sells...But Who's Buying is still one of the best thrash metal albums ever made. Dave Mustaine sustains much of his tarnished reputation on the achievements of this album, where he perfected his jazzy, difficult, crack cocaine, guitar solo driven thrash metal. It's a collection of inchoate rage songs, a few devil songs here and there, a vague political mumbling. You don't listen to Megadeth for lyrics. You just jam it the fuck out and appreciate the tricky riffs and manual dexterity. It was a rare moment, since it is one of the few good albums in the whole goddamn ouvre. Take away this album and Rust In Piece, and Megadeth are a crap band. Indeed!


Into the Necro Lands Part 11.2 - Evil Has No Boundaries   
The chaos of the daily market has subsided when we leave the assassination office. Only a lonely janitor, languidly sweeping up the remnants of the day's work remains in the cavernous chamber. Bloodmace and I wander down the corridor toward the exit but as we pass the great doors that give entrance to the hall of commerce, the Sectaurian who aided us walked swiftly in front of us. Her hands, clasped behind her back, relax for a moment and make a discreet motion to follow her. Walking swiftly, but well behind our guide we move through the imperious checkpoint at the exit and into the gusting stormwind outside. Weaving through the onyx and alabaster gates that separate the business district from the city's dwellings, we behold the city's strange architecture. Metal and crystal structures bubbled up from the multicolored sand that covered the ground, all domes and spikes that towered above us like great thorny plants. We step up our pace, feeling the gaze of the patrol officers wandering about. "Bloodmace," I say, "Do you think we can trust this one? She did recognize the
Mournful Congregation symbol, but..." Bloodmace, looking straight ahead, replies, "Too late brother, we gotta follow on now, I think we got a tail though." I pretend to drop something, when I bend down and sneak a look, there are indeed a couple of nautical looking necromancers loitering on the corner. "C'mon, hurry." Bloodmace motions to me as the strange insect woman disappears around a corner. We stride briskly after her as a heavy rain begins to pour down. The street she leads us down is lined with many more modest and uniform dwellings. We break into a run as she ducks into a doorway on the right. We hear a splashing behind us and even as we approach the doorway we are flanked by our swift pursuers and pushed into the apartment. The Sectaurian we were following has a worried look
on her face, "They followed us," She says to the corpsepainted men who had jostled us on the way in, "Follow me you two." We run after her with our unknown hosts in tow, up flights of stairs and on to the roof, where we climb down a rope ladder into a second apartment, with lush white carpets and leather walls. From a closet in the luxury suite, we descend stone stairs for what seems like an eternity. Deeper and deeper into the ground we travel until we finally reach a door at the bottom level. Our guide motions for us to stop and be silent. We all listen intently for any motion or sound, minutes pass and our six armed benefactor quietly opens the steel door and slips through. We find ourselves in a richly appointed office. dim lamps illuminate the black walls and carpet enough to see the monochrome chairs and desk. Bleached white skulls of many different beasts contrast the inky backdrop on the walls and tables. "I am Sauntra, Scrollkeeper of Narn. Chanthoth has told me of your quest." The graceful sectarian before us speaks in a quiet tone, "We will help you place the sigils in the five positions, but we must hurry. Someone or something was following us on the way in. We may have lost them for now, but they make it harder for us." She pulls a map from the desk, "I will show you the way to your goal within the castle and the way out. We meet at midnight on the north dock."

Winner of the Night (for me anyway) was Anthrax's Persistence of Time, their last with Joey Belladonna and their last good album, period. This is the 'serious' album; the one that seeks to combat their image as a cartoon metal band that writes about comic books and invented rap metal. They succeed. It is easily their darkest album, and their most ambitious. The riffs stick to your craw, and for once, Joey sounds like he would not rather be in Journey. Even the Joe Jackson cover song is good. The songs are lengthy, but not ponderous. There are a few nods to Pantera and the newly emerging nu-metal genre, but this is still a thrashster piece. I voted this for winner because I was impressed by how well it stacks up against the certified classics, this nearly forgotten album by a band that would try to sound as much like Helmet as they possibly could for the rest of the 90's. 


Weirdly, we decided to have Slayer's live EP, Live Undead, as the bonus album. I don't remember why. I was drunk. This is a good document of thier early period, when the Priestness of their songs was most obvious to the point of near plagiarism. Evil, youthful energy abounds. Not nearly as vital as their late 80's albums. I was drunk. It was my birthday.



  
Words of the Elders
Let us contemplate the strangeways, the cruel and beautiful pendulum that is time and tide of this uncanny world. None can know the exotic fancies of those gods and goddesses that play stones on the fates of mortals, none can reckon the end of one game or the start of another. Yet in the darkness, we call. Like a beacon for whatever entity may answer, we call. Lift up the sorrowblade and strike the sky young kings! Smite the brow of fate and crush the gods that defy you! Remember Narn, remember the T'Chah Karnac and the indecent at Mount Raven! Graafenweisen Kalik'ch! Otqara Machak!

Until next week, whips of fate,

Horns

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