Processional Chant - Of USBM and Duchess Von Doom

Duchess Von Doom....the mysterious woodland survival witch, dropped by with a gaggle of goodies in her bag of human skin. Let's have a gander in the holy mountain, shall we?

First, the Duchesses unveiled the most mysterious and obscure of the bands she dredged from the depths of American scene. Hail, is a dark and weird black metal band from Portland Oregon whose cassette release, Blood Revenge of Death, is so murky and so obscure, that I had to enter its existence in the hallowed Encyclopedia Metallum my goddamn self!!!!!!! It contains 4 inky black and quite lengthy song things. This is the most necro thing I have ever heard. The necro cassette deck blasted forth putrid tones of analog rape. I really could make out much of what was going on, but this is how black metal is meant to be heard, maggots. I killed myself  7 times during this album, only to rise from the dead to worship at the altar of filth. It is well and good that this album is so obscure, as the widespread propagation of this album would surely release ravaging caco-daemons upon the earth. It is quite beyond review.

Here is a track from their first album, since this one does not exist in digital format.


Chronicles of the North Part 14.1 - Island of Domination

Dawn was breaking across the Jenkabala forest. I awoke wondering where I was, as the last place I remember being was inside the vast sourwood tree with Fester Blackheart, Ophelia Skullbourne and Hell Wraith. My eyes, adjusting to the gray dawn, could make out the forms of my companions and slowly I made my way through the labyrinth of memory. We had convinced Parth-Amon,guardian of the Garm, to allow us to start that dread spellamplifier, and it had worked. I recall there being much commotion, it seemed as though the walls would cave in around us and there was an unwholesome 

 groaning emanating from above, then nothing. We were in a crater huge enough to make me believe the tree had been knocked over, but by what? We had been in the root chamber of the great plant, why had we not been pulled out of the ground with it? I stood and began to walk around. The Garm seemed untouched as well, it's gears still grinding away. That's when I realize we were not at the bottom of the crater, but in the middle. Beyond the machinery, there is an abyss that separates the edge of the floor where I stand and the wall of the crater left by the falling tree. Walking around the perimeter, I can see that there is no passage to the other side, we are trapped here as if on an island. Hell Wraith lies behind me and I wake him first. He opens his eyes and says, "Suspended in the air?" 

I nod my head, he continues. "I tried to stay conscious as long as I could but the last thing I remember is hearing that sound then Parth-Amon was drawing a spell with his hands. Everything was shaking violently, at first it felt like we were moving but there was no inertia, it had no feeling..." As Hell Wraith trails off, Fester calls out from across the floating mesa, "Hey, you guys okay? If anybody's hungry I have some torf!" Opening a briefcase he carries with him, Fester produces several sheets of deep fried dough with sweet and savory fillings, a specialty of his people. "They're delicious!" Hollers Ophelia, waving a thumbs up. Troubled as I am by our situation, torf is a delicacy I have not sampled since before my stay in the realms of death. The four of us munch portentously, staring over the side of our floating prison. "Hai! You there!" At once we whirl around to see a figure perched on the other side of the chasm. Clad in the sacred denim and leather of the north, her black locks hang down around the patch covered vestments. "Explain yourselves fools!" One by one, a group of about twenty heavily armed magic users arrive to flank her on either side. Fester leans over to me and whispers, "Shit, it's Duchess Von Doom and the Narset Coven. We may be in trouble."

Well,as we peeled ourselves from the floor after that motherfucker, the Duchess decided to fuck with our souls with a diabolically quiet affair from a trio of witches from Olympia, WA. Vradiazei is an acoustic band, and their cassette release, Ancient Church, is a dark folk band whose only real claim to anything metal a collection of minor chords and galloping rhythms. Featuring banjo, cello, acoustic guitar and fiddle, this calls upon the spirits of Dark Americana, of bodies found in bogs and hollers, of New England witchcraft, and whispers in forgotten graveyards. This was truly an analog delight, but it did not win the night. No, indeed.

This is an even more obscure band with no YouTube presence, so you know they're cool.


 Chronicles of the North Part 14.2 - Blood Von

From across the gaping divide Duchess Von Doom can be seen making spellsigns with her hands. At the end of this series of complicated sigils she pushes out with her hands then draws them quickly toward herself again. Slowly, the little piece of ground we occupy with the Garm begins drifting toward her. When we bump up against the side and climb up to the forest floor, a grisly sight awaits. The titanic sourwood tree has indeed fallen, and its aspect dwarfs us. As far as the eye can see there is carnage from the battle. The vanquished Wyverns lie crumpled beneath the holes they have torn in the forest canopy after falling victim to Chanthoth's Garm-enhanced spell. Sauron and human warriors are scattered about and large scavenger birds pluck at the remains. For the first time today, I reflect on the whereabouts of our party. I am interrupted in my thoughts by the voice of the Duchess, "Now, what are you doing in my realm? I know you Demon Scourge, death follows in your path. You presence here means that blood will flow in Jenkabala and Samur." The others have backed away and the dark sorceress and I stand face to face in the middle of a circle of eyes. "I see you have been granted the sacred armor of our people, but you have no real idea of its power or just how dangerous it might be to you and your friends. In your race to destroy and make war you have activated the Garm, and we now have to stop it before Headron can locate its position and use it to destroy us." She snaps her fingers and several of the coven follow her on to the floating disc of soil that holds the magical engine. The remainder of the dangerous looking Narcen surround us as Duchess Von Doom and her crew set to work dismantling the fence around the psychic 

amplifier. The Duchess goes into a trance and one of the clerics, with a mighty grunt snaps an outstretched hand to the whirring gears, witch grind immediately to a halt. As if under a massive 

strain, the complicated inner workings of the Garm begin to snap and crumble. Duchess Von Doom 

strains to keep the ground together as her brethren scurry up the hill. as the last of them claw their way on to the lip of the massive crater, she suddenly opens her eyes and the land beneath her feet crumbles away. With a serene look in her eyes she slaps her hand on the Vradiazei patch on the denim battle jacket she wears and as I observe her disappearing into the pit the Duchess Von Doom materializes beside the coven of Narset. In a commanding tone she pronounces her judgment, "You and your brother, Bloodmace have been deceived by the leaders of a world you do not understand. You and your party shall accompany us to Samur where Mistress Crowbastard shall instruct you in the ancient ways of the Chevelargo and Hiuksetl. You have gathered about you the finest group of metalheads Centon has ever known but you will be tested in Jenkabala and the only way you will prevail is to learn the secrets hidden in the past by the rulers of today. Gather your party, we depart in the morning." At once, Duchess Von Doom and her party march into the shadowy forest. In the dissipating morning fog, I catch a flicker of light from behind a tree as they quickly pass. Frostor, puffing on a cigar, gives me a wide grin.

The winner of the night was a sludge/doom one man band from lumber lands of Salem, Oregon, Hell, and their second album, simply monickered II. 4 songs, each averaging 15 minutes long. This is long, drawn out torture music, perfect for a dark and stormy night with your headless bride. Lots of slow grinding atmosphere, and riffs the size of the SunnO))). And, as this was the only digital offering of the night, each dirgy note crisply presented in full sonic majesty. Anguish and despair on crystal meth. You know the deal. Quite soothing.

Call to the sky boat! The metal militia has emerged from the battle victorious! But what of Bloodmace? Has he perished in the wood prison along with the secrets of the T'Chah Karnac? What of Baron Lotar, Lady Deathcrush and Hellmaster? Destiny sings to the champions of Centon, calling them to plunge deep in to the heart of snow-covered Samur, land of mystery, soul of Centon! Who will follow and who will be lost on the road to glory? 

Until next week, necronecks, 




Horns

Sodomythical Frostgoats - Blackened Thrash and More Forest Battles

 Blackened fucking thrash. Like a dank wind from an open tomb its stench engulfs everything. From Burma to Brazil from Thailand to Iceland the mighty spiked gauntlet reings heavy over all metal fans. Who doesn't love Bathory or Venom. Show me the fun-hating butthole who frowns upon Sodom and I'll show you someone who's life means less than dust to any truVe metal fan. With this in mind Bloodmace and I set out on a dark journey into the heart of deepest Asia (and Australia) to uncover the best in christsodomizing unholy frostbearers who torment the ears with their angelripping hatemyths! Ahoy captain! Full speed ahead!

Impiety's Asateerul Awaleen is a hell of an album. From the overlong, Bathory-style intro to the raw thrashing of the closing tune, Blasphemyth... The Seventh Goatspawn, this is what I like to hear. The production is raw as shit, the lyrics are completely unintelligible and there's not a guitar solo to be heard, in other words, perfect. The grim atmosphere hangs heavy, like mountain fog as Shyaithan and the original lineup of this black thrash juggernaut blast through eight battle songs informed by the great German and Brazilian thrash bands of yore. Much like those globe trotting tides of evil, the music of these Asian hate mongers finds a reflection in the frosty black metal of northern Europe. 

Though ostensibly influenced by the great Teutonic thrash of decades gone, you can hear more than a little Darkthrone in the track Divine Hutamahan Frostfuck, and certainly those cheesy keyboards sound more Emperor than Sodom. These are minor quibbles though, for this is an album that I can listen to over and over again. The drums are worth a mention in this department, though the mix makes itself known a bit too much the infernal clanging of drummer, Iblyss' kit catches the ear and sets this album apart from other contenders. This is the first full length by the long-lived Impiety, who went on to release seven more albums and are still active today. Having never heard most of their later catalog, it's hard to say how this fits in the cannon, but I find it to be an engaging slab of ultra-misanthropic metal to soothe the nerves of the most harried wage slave. Winner of the night!

Frostor had been leaping branch to branch, unleashing deadly volleys of gunfire from above the heads of the sauron warriors. He laughs as he spies the harried troops of the royal Wyverns sending their human servants out with a flamethrower to burn out the unseen assassin. The nimble bounty hunter climbs up and around the trunk of the massive tree as the fire singes the branches below. As he jumps to the next limb something catches his eye. A large papery structure hangs from the branch ahead with three or four Lornflies hanging from the bottom, their stingers dripping with deadly venom. A smile grows over Frostor's face as he draws the scope to his eye and releases a single shot that sends the nest careening down to the ground, sending the angry insects swarming through the battlefield. "Nice shootin' there stranger." Frostor's eyes dart up to see Lady Deathcrush perched across from him, "look over there, the Wyvern have arrived from Samur." Indeed, as Frostor peered around to the place where the sauron army was attempting to gather, he beheld the five elder Wyvern circling in the air above. Huge, majestic creatures they were. Their bodies were huge dark forms, lit only by the glow of fires from the battle below and they swooped in and out of the forest canopy. Frostor looked at Deathcrush above and called out, "We better get closer to the ground, one of these clowns is gonna rip us right out of the tree. They're lookin' for us sister!" There was a sound of breaking wood and they both knew what was about to happen. Neither of the metal warriors could see much of the beast, but both felt its scaly flesh as they rushed toward the ground.

Arriving a little later to the scene than Impiety, Zygoatsis does their best to kick it up a notch and what you end up with is their 2011 offering, S.K.U.D. This is a much more bombastic affair with a real death metal edge. This album is more frenetic than ...Awaleen. Where Impiety stick to a moodier feeling and mid tempo pacing until the last half, Zygoatsis goes straight for the throat in the opening track. Evoke the Goatphomet, blasting out of the intro like a ghostly steed to singe the air with it's fiery breath. Drummer Sunyaluxx (formerly of the black metal band Surrender of Divinity, who released splits with Sabbat, Impiety and Bestial Warlust) keeps the sixteenth notes rolling along as guitarists Patiwat and Avaejee fill the soundscape with menacing thunder. Shyaithan of Impiety even turns up to belt out Zygoatical Epidemic Assassination and Black Forced Khaostorms. Overall this is a ultra sick fuckin' album that outdoes the night's champion on speed and brutality, but fell victim to my will.

In the treetop chamber, Chanthoth was madly chanting in the many languages of the sacred texts. A thousand voices issued from this mystic's throat as before him the keys appeared. Bloodmace tried to return to his body from the skin of the forest, but the voice of Chanthoth warned him, "Come gather the keys, you must deliver them. Hurry! Your energy for this spell will not last forever" Bloodmace rushed up through the roots and fibers, up into the floor of the bearded mystic's quarters where the keys were emerging. The mighty barbarian knew what he had to do. Because he had merged with the plant world, he could travel anywhere. His mind was one with the very life force of this planet and he could move at will to any place as he desired. Chanthoth touched the floor and directed Bloodmace 

through the soil and sand, under vast mountains and below the time desert. To seven underground lakes he journeyed, reaching out through sprout and fungi to drop the keys into their places. It was getting harder and harder for him to move. With a tremendous effort, he located his body and lurched into it, falling to the floor with a thud. All hell was breaking loose. Fire was consuming the room in several places, Chanthoth was still chanting, his voice modulated to a terrifying bestial wail. It seemed as though the very air was breaking apart. Outside, the huge body of a Wyvern plummeted to the ground, rocking the very foundation of the tree and sending both men crashing against the wall. It was silent a moment and Bloodmace opened his mout to speak but the terrible sound of a second lizard crashiung through the tree stopped him short. In the moment before the aincent tree began its precipitous decent to the forest floor, he looked across at Chanthoth. It was only a split second, but that moment chilled the hardened warrior to his bones. The face across him was no longer the arboreal shaman he expected. It was Headron, his mouth contorted with spectral rage. They slammed to the ground, bark and branch exploding chaotically around them.

BestialWarlust, who came up at roughly the same time as Impiety contributed the final chapter in our survey of unholy blasphemies from the southern hemisphere. Blood and Valor is the second, and final full length from this excellent underground war metal outfit and has the best riffs of the night hands down. Zygoatsis had the speed and brutality, Impiety dominated, but this band has riffs that are more than just smears of speed or straight up Emperor worship. This album holds up today because the riffs are kick ass. Falling somewhere between Burzum and Obituary, the guitars beat out tasty primitive licks punctuated by pinch harmonic squeals that would make James Murphy smile. I won't lie and say it was hard to decide who was going to take the crown tonight, but to me, this was one of the best metal nights ever.

Even in a single battle there are a thousand stories. Like a deadly prism, its facets reflect every aspect of  a warrior's soul. When steel meets steel and blood stains the ground, the inner life is laid bare. The Wyverns have fallen victim to Chanthoth's spell and the political landscape of Centon has been forever changed. Bloodmace and Demon Scourge are caught in the middle of the tide of history as it rushes into the icy ocean of madness. Behold fair readers! Behold the path of elders, so faint. Hear their voices in the air like dead leaves! Night is almost over, and the dawn breaks over yonder hills...

Until next week, Goatvomiting blasphmongers, 



Horns  

A Day of Reckoning - Testament, Hellmaster and the Battle of Jenkabala Forest

 It's fun exploring the outer realms of the musical universe for weirdness and excitement, but sometimes you need to come home, to have a nice big comfy bowl of blood porridge and Yid entrails, just like mom used to make. Testament are kind of like that, for this crotchety old school thrasher.

Testament's first album, The Legacy, is their best album. Back in the day, I sort held up my nose at this sort of basic Bay Area thrash, opting more for the progressive thrash of Metallica and Voivod. But listening to this album for the first time in years, I find that my tastes have progressed into a learned regression, and I can appreciate this brand of no frills head ripping. Alas, I have matured. Their sound, somewhat derivative of Metallica's faster songs, is almost textbook Bay Area thrash, with an accent on skull crush and bludgeoning. There is a set formula, but there is also virtuosic lead playing courtesy of future Trans-Siberian Orchestra ass master, Alex Skolnick and there are also some damn tasty riffs and some catchy songwriting. Songs are about war, demons, wizards, swords, generalized alienation, and the end of the fucking world, man. Winner of the night!

Chronicles of the North Part 12.1 - Chalice of Blood 
Chanthoth's quarters are wet with blood and viscera. Bloodmace is still hacking his way through the seemingly endless troops that filed into this chamber of horrors. As the eager barbarian smashes the head of the last opponent into a disgusting pulp, the meditating mystic calls to him, "Enough! seal the passage with your Wolves in the Throne Room patch." Bloodmace complies, moving his right hand across to the bloodstained embroidery on the left side of his jacket. With the barest contact, Bloodmace has gone within the very being of the forest. He becomes one with the spirit of the tree, 

pulling rough fibers across the door until there is nothing but wood where the portal once was. 

Immediately, Chanthoth begins his chant, "The moon leads celestial legions to cast the stars from their ancient thrones! Astral blood pours forth from their grievous wounds!" tracing obscure shapes with his hands, he begins to weave his web. With the invaders momentarily held at bay, Bloodmace notices that he can feel everything the tree feels. He senses the roots and branches, he can feel the Wyvern troops climbing up the furrowed bark of this ancient sourwood on their way to attack the chamber. Down at root level I can feel the eyes of my brother upon us. Ophelia Skullbourne, Fester Blackheart, Hell Wraith, and I have just met the six-armed human who calls himself Parth-Amon and holds the final secret of the Garm. Hell Wraith is trying to convince the goateed elder to unlock the astral machine but the guardian is suspicious. Inside my mind, Bloodmace is telling me they have started the spell. I must act. Across the room, Parth-Amon is saying, "Yes, but how do I know you represent the T'Chah Karnac? This is not just some weapon. This machine could destroy our entire world!" My hand reaches up to the shoulder patch, Operation:Mindcrime, and when I touch it, the guardian’s face changes. He looks confused and threatened for a moment, like a trapped animal, and seems about to lash out when I approach him. I look into his eyes and say "Speak the word, the word is all of us." The others stare in amazement as the skeptical master of the Garm turns and begins tracing arcane patterns in the air with his six hands. Creaking and groaning, the weird engine roars to life.

Skip ahead, to their third album, Practice What You Preach, released the summer I graduated from high school, 1989. Now signed to a major label, this is a a more streamlined approach, and also a more boring approach. Gone are the fast ragers, replaced by songs that sound too earnestly like they wanna be in that top 40 list along with Metallica. There are some great riffs and some good jams on this album, but this it lets you down way too much at come chorus time, the melodies sounding almost breezy at times. This got great reviews when it came out, and the 'live in the studio' sound was praised, but tell you the truth, they refined this approach on their next album, Souls of Black, which has a crappier, rushed production(apparently they were trying to get product out in time for some big MTV thrash package tour), but is still better, heavier album than this.

Chronicles of the north 12.2 - March Into Fire
Hellmaster barely noticed the ground shaking, or the beating of the Wyvern wings from high above. The battle had begun and all around his friends were attacking the Wyvern troops from their hiding spots under and above the soldier's heads, but Hellmaster was focused on a single foe, Sharlen Gort. Lean and sinewy, wearing a suit of human hides in the manner of the Sauron elite, Sharlen snarled 

savagely from the other side of the branch, "Now you'll see how we deal with traitors in Samur, filthy dog!" He lunges at Hellmaster with his jeweled dagger but the desert mystic drops off the branch, catching himself with his hands. Sharlen loses his balance and falls also, catching himself on the next lower branch. Hellmaster drops down and waits for his challenger to rise, "You beg for your destruction, cousin. Go now and I will forget I have seen you." The wild eyed Samurian warrior pulls himself up and leaps again at Hellmaster, slamming him into a deep furrow in the bark where branch meets trunk. The flashing dagger slices across Hellmaster's sternum, cutting through the purple robe he wears. It's already too late though. Using the devastating magic he has studied in the Time Desert, Hellmaster focuses his energy towards one point and as Sharlen raises his weapon to deliver the killing blow, his fist smashes through armor, flesh and ribcage to grab hold of his cousin's beating heart. Looking directly into Sharlen's mesmerized eyes, he yanks the organ from his body and holding it to the sky, squeezes. The horrible, animal, sound of Hellmaster's victory cry is drowned out by the sounds of battle, but as the warrior of magic looks up from the battleground to the night sky, he sees the Wyvern tribe circling the treetop. "There will be no rest tonight," he thinks to himself as he wipes the blood from his hand.

 Jump forward to the end of the 90's, and The Gathering rears its blackened face. This album has been highly lauded in the metal press as one of the best albums of the 90's, but actually, it's overrated. It's ssoooooo....welll......90's. Their early 90's albums, were deathed up thrash metal album along the lines of Sepultura, and this album was lauded as a return to their roots. But the thrash and speed are toned down, and there are nu metal overtones and influences all this album. With a super group pedigree featuring Dave Lombardo and Steve Digiorgio, was expecting something a bit more raging and incredible, but what you get is just another Testament album. Not that there aren't some great moments here, mainly when it speeds up, but for the most part, overrated. Also, the lyrics are touchy-feely, I'm getting older now,  I hate mygoddamnself 90's bullshit. More dragons and death, please, Mr. Billy. Skip ahead to The Formation of Damnation, a more welcome return to form for us crotchety old school thrashers.

Words of the Elders

Battle scorches the ground on this long and bloody night. The former and current rulers of this world have come to blows. Demon Scourge, Bloodmace and the rest are caught up in the middle of their fight. Who could have guessed that their quest to avenge their fallen comrade, Zodron the Minstrel, would lead them from Jenkabala to the Time Desert, to Waylor and through the realms of death. Now the legion of true metal faces their greatest peril. Thrust into a battle of titans, they must succeed or perish. What will be written on the scroll of history? 

Until next week, Sin Marauders, 



Horns

Thus Spake the Nightspirit - Battle Tales and Black Metal EP's

FUCK INTRODUCTIONS!!!!!!!! I'm just going to give you all the lowdown straight-up. 

Emperor-As The Shadows Rise- First thing Demon Scourge said was that this album sounded like crap. NO guitars and the kick drum was too prominent. I took my knife, brandished it his way, and said, "IT'S SUPPOSED SOUND LIKE THAT!!! IT'S CVLT!!! IT'S NECRO!!!!! Then I cut his fucking head off. But really, it does sound pretty bad. The production makes the average Darkthrone album sound like a Bob Rock extravaganza. But the quality of the songwriting and the inhumane ambiance make this album quite worth while. And listening to black metal for the high production values is like listening to Nickleback for the guitar solos. And why listen to Nickleback? I'd rather listen to something recorded by necrofucks in a basement.

 Emperors second EP, Reverence, is basically the sneak preview to their scalding yet sleek classic 'Anthems To The Welkin At Dawn. Gone are the necro production values, showcasing a BIG FUCKING PRODUCTION  to showcase their increasingly symphonic, bombastic soundscapes. It rapes babies, and therefore is the WINNER OF THE NIGHT!!!!!

Chronicles of the North part 11.1 - Stillbirth Machine  

In the darkness of the root level passages, bugs scurry from the light created by the Dio patch on the bottom left flap of the denim jacket. My right hand rests lightly on the embroidered insignia while a pale light emanates from my left. Up ahead I can hear the voices of Fester Blackheart and Ophelia Skullbourne growing closer as I make my way through the crude passage hacked in one of the huge 
underground tendrils that feed the enchanted tree where the T'Chah Karnac have been imprisoned by 

the Wyvern. The passage widens out into a large chamber where I can make out a dim light in the corner illuminating a metal cage with gears inside that attach to an arm that disappears into the cork-like floor. Fester, Ophelia and Hell Wraith are there. I call out to them, "Hai! When will the Garm be running? The Wyvern legion is attacking, it will only be a short time before the rest of the tribe arrives here from Samur." Fester is halfway up the cage, wrenching one of the gears and calls down, "Almost. we need some kind of oil to get this one unstuck." Ophelia is on the ground, securing the iron arm that plunges into the ground to the mechanism that gives it motion. "Almost done here!" Hellmaster comes running from across the root cavern holding a big black bug like the ones that attacked us in Fester's home. "Look, it's a Brentarn! The T'Chah Karnac used to keep flocks of these to make oil during their exile. We can use this to lube the gears!" he says excitedly. He reaches to the rear of the shiny black creature and squeezes a gland on it's lower thorax. Thick yellow slime bursts fourth into the water skin he holds below the struggling insect. When the container is full, he releases the bug. It scurries 
off into the darkened recesses of this underground room. Hell Wraith holds up the oil to fester,who 

squeezes it out over the rusty gears. Looking around at us, he asks, "Now how do we start it?" A quick check reveals no way to start the strange machine. From behind us, a strange voice answers our question, "You need me for that." Wheeling around I behold a six armed human. Small rectangular glasses mount his nose and he wears a scruffy beard on his chin. "I am Parth-Amon, keeper of the Garm. What is your business here?"

Speaking of baby rape, we heard Marduk's charming ep, 'Fuck Me Jesus'. This being somewhat early in their career of evil, it sounds alot like a sloppy Swedish Death Metal album, with black metal influences creeping in. Still it's an amazing little nugget of hellish crossfire.

Abruptum is a band your friends will never like, and their ep, 'Evil' will get you ostracized from your small town community and thrown off a cliff. Along the way, they will flay you with sticks, as this
album's weird, sludgy noisy ambiance flays your trembling earbones. For true loner wierdos only, which makes this album almost fucking PERFECT.

Arcturus are one of the avant gard elite of black metal. Their Ep, My Angel, is a dark angel indeed. Actually,  I don't remember anything about this album. Were there synths? Definitely. And a lot of traditional influences, but it's still a blackened hellhole of burning souls, but with synths.

Chronicles of the North Part 11.2 - Sons of Amon

Hellmaster is perched on a low branch when he sees the first of the sauron battalions approaching. This is a bad place for him. Long ago, before he was Hellmaster of the Time Desert, he was Ka-Taw, 

of the noble Clan Parth who lived along the River Trimpor with the Sauron in the days of the T'Chah 

Karnac. When the Wyvern took control of Samur and made the sauron their elite, his family chose to worship the new gods and lead their people into a life of servitude to the ascendent lizard folk who once were their equals. When Ka-Taw heard of this, he left his home to wander the forbidden lands, learning the secrets of the Time Desert from Bloodmace and making his home in the barren and forbidding wasteland, becoming the feared Hellmaster. He cursed under his breath as row after row of the Wyvern guard marched beneath him in the gloom. They had surrounded the tree where Chanthoth was working his ancient magic in the prison fortress built within it's trunk. From the inky sky above, the sound of great wings heralded the coming of the Wyvern elders. One by one they landed in the open area near the base of the huge sourwood until there were nearly a dozen of the scaly beasts gathered, each one representing a royal family of this realm. Soldiers were climbing, single file, into the entrance of the trunk, but none had so far come out. He turns to dismount from the branch, but stops as a familiar figure stares at him from the branch above, "So, Ka-Taw, you have returned. This shall be your doom, brother." Hellmaster knew this moment would come. His cousin, Sharlen Gort, leaps nimbly down to the lower limb, drawing a jeweled dagger and hisses, "Now you shall pay for your treachery, fool. I'll skin you alive to finish my armor". From deep within the ground, a rumbling shakes the trees.

Polack punishers Behemoth's ep  And The Forests Dream Eternally is a polished little nugget of black metal dynamics. Despite this being their first (non-demo) recording) their ideas and musicianship are fully formed and well rounded. A mythic journey into the hell soul of the now. What?


Immortal's first self titled ep, on the other hand, sounds like a dip they are just dipping their troll toes into the icy waters. Pretty decent black metal, but they won't find their true purpose until Pure Holocaust. That's when the icy fingers molest your frozen soul.

And lastly, Dimmu Borgir's Inn I Evighetens Mørke. Demon Scourge nearly tore out his eardrums at the synthy textures, but I love love love a little cheese to go with my mead and blood sausage. A worthy corpse fuck.

Words of the Elders
The rich black soil of Jenkabala is aflame with the passions of battle. In the treetops, Bloodmace battles the imperial guard, protecting Chanthoth until Demon Scourge, Fester Blackheart, Ophelia Skullbourne and Hell Wraith can start the machine deep within the root caverns below that will transform the power of his spell into a disturbance powerful enough to disrupt the energy flow of the Wyvern magic, thus leaving them vulnerable to attack. The final struggle for control of the northern throne has begun. Evil laughter rides on the wind of mayhem so listen carefully and you will hear the storm as it approaches!


Until next week disciples of the watch,



Horns

Wartime - Doom Metal and the Battle for Jenkabala

We were going to do something a bit different, more of a trollish doom theme, but the band we intended to warm up with, Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats, got us into a Sabbath groove. So it continued through out the night, until human sacrifice, astral projection, and craft beer proved to be the only back through the dark portal. Yup. Uncle Acid is a new band from England and we heard their 2011 opus Blood Lust. Big stoner rock vibe, but without the stems and seeds, mining thick Sabbath riffs and grooves right down to the analog warmth. Vocalist Uncle Acid sounds amiably Ozzy-like, though his vocals are buried in the background. Not big on songcraft, the focus is on groove, feel, and wah-wah, fuzz, and mushrooms. It's a good time doom record, with only a few foreboding bad acid trip-like moments. I liked this album a lot, but it did not win the night.


Chronicles of the North Part 10.1 - The Rite of Darkness

Chanthoth was sitting in the darkness when we reached him in the garden chamber of the tree bound fortress. Bloodmace and I had split our party into three groups,  Hellmaster, Deathcrush, Vorthon, Lotar and Lady Steel together with Frostor  are holding positions outside, near the entrance to this arboreal habitat. Fester Blackheart, Ophelia Skullbourne and Hell Wraith have descended to the root level, seeking the hidden machinery called the Garm. We are here with Chanthoth to cast a spell against the Wyvern that, when amplified by the Garm, will disrupt the power flow of Samur's reptilian rulers. With a warm pop, all the candles placed about the room lighted as we approached the meditating mystic. Without opening his eyes, Chanthoth addresses us."Quickly now, light the 

incense. We haven't much time." Striding rapidly to the other end of the long gallery that served as Chanthoth's garden, I grab a chunk of pink crystal from one of the shelves that line the wall and hold it over one of the candles. I drop the crackling shard into a hollowed out skull and return to my position. Bloodmace has taken his place as well, sitting cross legged opposite the bearded wizard. I placed the skull, now emitting a thick column of fragrant smoke, into the middle of the circle. Chanthoth picks up his guitar and begins to pick out the music. We chant the ancient spell "Harder Than Steel." Outside, we hear the flapping of giant wings. The Wyvern are here. From the great window that runs across the wall opposite us, I can see two of the fearsome creatures peering in. "They cannot enter." I hear our host's voice inside my mind. "Their troops will be on their way up now though. Bloodmace, use the Darkthrone patch. Eyes still closed, the weird magician raises his pick hand and a bolt of energy strikes the lizards at the window, who fall precipitously to the ground with a crashing thud that shakes the forest. From the other side of the room, Sauron and human warriors flood into the sanctuary, surrounding us. I can feel the floor tremble a bit as the organic machinery of the Garm groans into motion. Bloodmace and I share a knowing glance as we put our backs together and prepare to defend our position.

The winner of the night were doom godz Pentagram, and their proper 1985 debut, Relentless. Having been around since the early 70's, Pentagram were one of the first metal bands to run with the sound that Sabbath abandoned in the mid 70's, when they were all snorting massive amounts of cocaine. Founder Bobby Leibling, despite being a massively talented songwriter, took as many drugs as he could afford, getting clean from heroin only a few years ago. Relentless is a full on doom metal album, with a focus on song craft and massive, skull crushing riffs. The songs chug along from slow paced to mid tempo, and the attack is aggressive, like Sabbath on crank. Not many pleasant vibes running through this album. All is darkness and doom. They, along with St. Vitus and Trouble, are the true progenitors of the doom genre and this album is a certified classic, an essential document. Winner of the night. Here's the entire fucking album:


Chronicles of the North Part 10.1 - The Wizard of Ice and Death 

There were twenty soldiers, perhaps more staring at us, weapons drawn. From the back of their ranks a thick, fierce Sauron strode towards us, drawing an ornate Samurian pistol. Chuckling, he pulls back the hammer, "I have not forgotten how you treated our queen in the days just before your first deaths. Hellmaster will be a dead man now, fools." He pulls back the hammer but before he has a chance to shoot, Bloodmace, hand on the Darkthrone patch, unleashes a blast of cold from his mouth with an unholy scream. The Sauron commander's cries are cut short as the wind tears away his flesh, it's icy force shattering chunks of crystallized tissue into green and ruby dust. Panic breaks out in our enemy's ranks as Bloodmace continues to emit a horrible sound though his entire body has been consumed by the howling wind, his physical contour lost in the blinding release of energy. Wyverns are now circling the tree, watching their troops be decimated with a frozen blast. There is one moment of silence as Bloodmace returns to this plane in an empty room, but the clattering and shouting of another group soon fills the air. The voice of Chanthoth comes to me again, "Let your brother handle these clowns. You must get to the root level and help Hell Wraith and Ophelia with the Garm." I turn to communicate this to Bloodmace, but I can see in his smirk that he already knows. He stands defiantly before our foes, fingers just brushing the Scream Bloody Gore patch, and again fear courses through their ranks as one by one torsos burst open with a wet ripping sound, spraying guts over everything. Before the stairs crowd with more victims, I quietly make my exit.

Witchfinder General are almost in that same league, but some unintended goofiness and a fatal sense of juvenalia hindered them from becoming true doom metal gods. Their first album, Death Penalty, with its wonderfully randy album cover, is a crushing document of doom, but lyrically, it becomes a bit embarrassing.

I want a woman 'cos it's a Saturday night
I wanna make her feel alright
I'm going to lay her, do you know what I mean
I really wanna make her scream

Lyrics like these would be laughed off a Spinal Tap album. Still, the vocals are not exactly enunciated with precision, so this is a good one to turn up loud and simply let the majestic riffery take over.  There is a sense of innocence that is always so refreshing when it comes to obscure NWOBHM bands, of which these lads were considered to be on the forefront of the second wave. Ain't a bad record.

Words of the Elders

The battle has begun. For generations the T'chah Karnac have been absent from the stage of history on Centon. Their magic despised, their people imprisoned in the massive tree. Their legacy has been relegated to bard songs and fairy tales, but Chanthoth has survived. The last teacher of the old magic brought here from Earth so long ago. Here is an act of defiance from an enemy who was assumed defeated, crushed into dust. Bloodhammer knew what he was doing when he sent the brothers back to the forests of northern Jenkabala again. Now the sounds of combat fill the air and destiny is knocking at the door. Hail Bloodmace and Hellmaster. Hail to the metal godz! Put their heads on the grinding wheel!

Until next week Morpheus marauders,

Horns

Steel Meets Steel - UK Thrash and a Battle in the Forest

English thrash circa the 1980's is a much overlooked scene known mainly for Onslaught and Sabbat. But dig a little beneath the surface, and you uncover.......well, mainly punk rock and crust-core. Britain was not known for the depth of their thrash scene back in the 80's. But Demon Scourge found these worthy obscurities, and I, Bloodmace, Master of Waylor and Liege Lord of the Time Desert, pass judgement over them.

 First up is Blood Money, who made raucous speed metal in the vein of Hirax and the many screaming sirens of the Metal Blade roster of the early 80's. But add liberal does of fast and loose NWOBHM style riffing, and their 1985 outing, Red Raw, and Bleeding, becomes a tasty album indeed, hampered only by the poverty row production values. Technically, all the musicians are quite proficient, though vocalist Danny Foxx cops from Hirax a bit much, right down to his phrasing. The album kind of lags when it shifts into lower tempos, like on 'Lazurus'. But for the most part the album is a barn burner, intent on caving in skulls in the fashion of Venom and Motorhead. This gets my vote for winner of the night, by a slight margin.

 Chronicles of the North Part 9.1 - Stand or Fall
The night was silent, dead silent.Frostor the bounty hunter, Fester Blackheart, Ophelia Skullbourne and I were huddled inside the earth and wood cavern near the tree where Chanthoth, last of the T'chah Karnac prepared the weapon Ophelia had called the Garn. We had just come from the dwelling of Iron Dan, mystic of Samur and had been confronted by the soldiers of the royal Wyverns, who Frostor decimated with his lightning pistol hand. Now the net was closing in. The reptilian masters were aware of our presence. We spotted two guards on the way up and now as we crouched in our 

hovel, we could see two more below the hidden egress from witch we issued when we set fourth on 

our quest. Cautiously, Fester Blackheart broke the silence, "We have to see if Chanthoth is alright. We can take those two and get up there before the others get up here. You know they can't enter the tree." He looks to Ophelia, who shrugs. Frostor, shaking his head, whispers, "You can't get all of us in there in time, besides do you really think those scaly bastards are gonna trust a single patrol to guard Chanthoth's Wyvern-hatin' ass? He's apparently still got the very spell that got those arrogant fuckers banished to this tree in the first place." There is a moment of silence as the others contemplate the very real possibility that this may be the end of the line. Before I can stop them the words bubble out of my mouth, "I will go." The others stare at me in blank silence. "We will be overrun soon anyway. Frostor, you asked me of the patches," the dusty soldier of fortune glances up with a smirk. "I think I may be able to get us into the tree, if I have your trust and your help." My heart jumps into my throat as I say these words, but Frostor reaches out his hand, "I'm in, hot rod." Ophelia answers as well, "Bloodmace should be here soon, let's hope there's time" Above, the flapping of great wings announce the presence of our dreaded foe. With a deep breath, I explain my plan to the others...

Next, we heard punk metalers Virus, whose steamroller 1987 debut, Pray For War, is like Ebola for the ears. Nothing pretty about this burly bunch or their sound. This is basically a crust album with more guitar solos. Simple and pounding riffs, neanderthal drum work, and a unique vocal style lend this a special charm. And I do have to to say that I liked this album, but the shoddy musicianship does grate on repeated listens, especially the drums. Lyrically, they ruminate mainly about war and its delights, with 'T.N.T being, by then, the obligatory thrash metal mosh pit anthem. Too punk for the metalheads, too metal for the crusties, this album is a semi-worthy obscurity.

Chronicles of the North Part 9.2 - Dark Tale

I walked slowly out onto the open field between our hiding place and the Sauron guards. Denim flaps in the breeze and as they fumble with their crossbows, I place my right hand on the left front of my jacket and touch the frayed Mercyful Fate patch. I feel a blow against my left shoulder as an arrow 

buries itself in my flesh. from deep within me, a force wells up, exploding out, turning my flesh to 
flame, and racing toward the terrified soldiers. I watch with a mixture of horror and relief as the fire consumes the bodies of my enemies. From behind me, three figures, like shadows dart into the night under a hail of arrows from unseen assassins. There is a series of loud cracks and the snapping of branches tells me that Frostor has thinned the ranks of the Wyvern forces again. I turn to find Fester and Ophelia in the gloom, but at that moment, a great figure blocks out the moonlight and a powerful wind knocks me to the ground. I am swept into the air by a great claw. I see my comrades from above, then feel a sudden sharp blow as the Wyvern elder drops me to the forest floor. The pain of my body is great, but when the colossal winged lizard lands in front of me, the pain of knowing that my quest is about to end is even greater. With the last of my strength I force my mangled arm over to the Motorhead patch. The creature's probing, intelligent eyes look down calmly upon me as I writhe in agony. Several human soldiers amble into view, dragging Fester and Ophelia from the forest. In a deep, imposing voice the Wyvern asks, "Where is Frostor?" He looks from one to the other, "The fate of your friend is noble compared to what you will suffer, humans." I smile to myself as I feel the patch begin to warm under 

my hand. From just outside the moonlit circle Frostor's raspy voice calls "You want me?" Two shots 

ring out and two soldiers fall to the ground. The Wyvern looks on impassively as the uncanny mercenary strolls into the open, beheading the final guard who challenges him with a his sword. "I ran out of bullets" Frostor grins. From his inside pocket, he draws a cigar, but before it touches his lips, his body crumbles to the ground like a discarded doll. I think the noble dragon sensed something was about to happen, because as it was drinking in the pleasure of torturing Frostor, it looked over at me for a moment with a questioning expression. An electric crackling filled the air and a hurdling transport burst out of the dimensional fabric, smashing through hide, tissue and bone and skidding across the forest floor before crashing into a root sticking out of the ground and bursting into flames, filling the air with the rank stench of burning flesh and diesel fuel. Out of every available exit friends old and new streamed, Hell Wraith, who began to heal my wounds, Baron Lotar, chatting with his old schoolmate Frostor, Vorthon, the Whip of Fate, setting to work purifying the battleground. One after another they piled until at last the figure of Bloodmace lumbered into view. "Just in time again, I see'," my brother jabs at me. "Let us repair to the tree before the other Wyvern arrive."

 Third up were a band more typical of the thrash metal sound, Hydra Vein and their 1988 album Rather Death Than False Of Faith. Sabbat is the first band that comes to mind when bouncing your head to these thrash infected tunes, since the singer is a Martin Walkyer clone, but also some Slayerism's filtered through German thrash. These guys do not have the most original sound, but the attack is relentless enough, and the performance enthusiastic enough that this does not become a problem. This is an above average thrash album from the late 80's.


Words of the Elders
So Bloodmace and Demon Scourge have finally come into conflict with the powerful Wyvern, masters of Samur and blood relatives to the great houses of Jenkabala. These opponents are ruthless and wise, but the indefatigable brothers have a small army of magic users and legendary warriors who seek to wrest control of Jenkabala from Lord Headron of Dantor. Call the name of Hellmaster children, call out to Raknar, Deathcrush and Vorthon! Together you shall reap the sweet harvest of victory and quaff the foaming blood of your enemies from their hollowed-out skulls. Size the day O young and foolish, for death drapes its cloak of darkness over the world as we speak! 

Until next week, brotons and matoms

Horns