Into The Thrashosphere - Slayer, Necrodeth and the Forbidden Island

We here at Metal Night believe in giving you a good thrashing. Thrash was what Demon Scourge and I suckled on as babes, it was what was for fucking dinner as teens. Our father Bloodhammer thrashed us to sleep at night with his razor studded blackjack. In Waylor, it is the music of making sweet love to hideous wenches. As you can see, thrash is a way of life in the Centonian world. Now let me tell you about these sweet melodies.

First, in order to understand thrash, a primer course in Slayer is necessary. Demon Scourge has always been quite fond of early Slayer. Show No Mercy and it's companion piece, Live Undead, is primitive,

traditionally grounded hell thrash that fucking scared the fucking shit out of everyone with its sheer brutality and naked Satanic power. It is an evil brew of quality riffing meets insane speeds meets whammy bar heroics meets the devil himself that set the basic Slayer formula, to be expanded upon subsequent albums. Cunts in the night.

Into the Necro Lands Part 16.1 - Fight Til Death

The beasts of burden favored among the tribe of Rygar the seeker were impressive animals. Their bodies bore a resemblance to snakes, but from their hind quarters, two wiry legs terminating in fearsome claws helped them to stand and take flight with the large feathered wings in front. The reptilian heads came to a beak-like point at the front, and their mouths were filled with hundreds of small, sharp teeth. From the back of their skulls, and continuing in a ridge along their spines, were red, yellow or blue feathers, sometimes in combinations and sometimes monochrome. These amazing creatures could fly, climb, swim or slither with equal facility making them sought after by those who dwell in remote areas, but they bred infrequently and were famously temperamental. Bloodmace and I had been strapped on the saddles of two such rare specimens through the night. We rode along with the troops of Rygar who helped us escape from the clutches of Bildorf the Mad and Necro Baby. This mysterious warrior claimed to be the new master of Castle Thrashstone and wanted desperately to take us back to the mainland, but for what purpose and who had sent him? It was dawn when we suddenly began to descend to a small, green island below.

Thier next proper album, Hell Awaits, blew the fucking gates of hell open. This a riffacaust. A million riffs are thrown together, and your mangled corpse is left to pick up the pieces. This album is probably the single most influential of their oeuvre, as this approach has been copied, cloned, and refined by 1000's of thrash and death metal bands. Just write a shitload of riffs, throw them together, and maybe a song will happen. Songs happened here. So did your demise in the moshpit, you fucker.

Reign In Blood is Slayer's contribution to musical immortality, their one album that ranks as a world crushing classic in all of music, next to Miles Davis' Kind of Blue or The White Album by The Beatles. It is that monumental, that basic of an element in music. The album, produced by Rick Rubin, strips Slayer down to the essentials, ramps up the hardcore punk elements, introduces a new level of hardcore reality to the lyrics, and never, ever fucking relents and barely gives you breathing room before the last of the poison gas fills your lungs and your heart is ripped from your chest by the evil priest. It's only your blood that is raining down from the heavens, because you love to be tortured to death everyfuckingtime.You are going to hell.

And when you get, South of Heaven will be album of choice for the Dark Lords. It's is, in many ways, subtly superior to their previous output. Much controversy was to had back in the day, as Slayer did the

only thing they could do to remain artistically viable.....they slowed down. They also refined their songwriting byadding another dark, Sabbathy layer. This was truly the album that made me dread the fires of hell, back in my teenage warrior days. The melodies(yes, melodies) are quite seductive. Give your soul to the devil. This was the winner of Metal Night.

Into the Necro Lands Part 16.2 - The Flag of the Inverted Cross

On the beach everyone began to dismount, I unfastened the straps across my chest and legs and joined the rest of the group, who had begun to gather around their leader. Sixteen in number, Rygar's followers were a motley bunch consisting of human, reptilian and android beings dressed in shabby cloaks that looked to be the same garments as Vorthon the Whip of Fate and Hell Wraith had worn in their days at Thrashstone. Their weapons, however, were exquisite silver spears that matched the one Rygar himself carried. Each one was etched with a different runic enchantment in the Chevelargo language. In the center of the group stood the mysterious seeker, clad in his tattered purple cloak and close fitting cap. He addresses the group in a loud voice, “We will make camp here tonight. Arrak and Hilm, you gather some firewood here near the beach while I take our guests to Zlendar. The rest of you, teather and feed the acarews. We will be back soon.” He beckons to us and turns to walk into the woods when one of the saurians steps up and calls out, “Rygar, I am to go this time. It was to be me.” Bloodmace and I stop for a moment, even though his attitude is one of hurt and not aggression towards us. The bearded warrior smiles as he replies, “Yes Hilm, you too will go with me into these woods, but do you not remember what the hour of the ceremony is?” The others in the group begin to chuckle and speak to each other excitedly in a tongue I do not wholly understand, slapping the errant Hilm on the back. “Now come with me Bloodmace and Demon Scourge, we have some business deeper in the woods.” Rygar motions to us again and we follow him down the narrow path into the cool, dense canopy.

And because our souls crave thrash, the next week was also thashathon, if somewhat more random. Italians heshers Necrodeath started us out and thrashed our fucking faces off, winning the night. They are like a less complicated Possessed, especially with the mid-rangy guitar tones, but taking vocals cues from the Germans. Into The Macabre is a primitive affair, those not without technical flourishes, and something deeply and intangibly Italian emerges from the atmosphere. Could be the Giallo influences.

Next, Leeway thrashed us moderately with it's New Yawk flava crossover. Born To Expire pleasingly does all the thrash/hardcore moves, but goes on for too long ala ....And Justice For All, and contains a dated rap metal tune, complete with funk metal bass pops. It's ok, but it's just not DRI or Nuclear Assault or Anthrax. That's all.

Sentinel Beast closed out the night with Depths of Death. It's standard Bay era type thrash with the chick from Znowhite on vocals. It's not great but not bad, a thrasher to mildly wreck thy neck in the cold of night, but nothing very memorable.

Words of the Elders
Urak! Telecart Zepher! The villains are in the garden and the hydra spits her foamy goo into the night sky. In the south, the cats dream of sighs. Our wine is squeezed from midnight and the crepes we dip into it ae flavored with bone! Call to the night, run and tell the shadow king. Let the name of Huisketl ring from the highest peaks of the Necro lands! 

Until next time, stormlords,




Horns