Into the Nowhere - Speed Metal Comebacks and the Crystal Canyon

On the wings of a mighty steel hydra did the 80's come and go. It was decade that saw the birth of speed metal, the unholy proginator of power metal. Many bands fell by the wayside, the victims of morbid douchery, of unrelenting mediocrity, and of smothering song obesity. But, alas, near the end of the wretched decade known as the 1990's, a few worthy masters of riffcraft arose from the mire to do battle once more. So, my leather clad friends, did we undertake the quest of late 90's Speed Metal comebacks.

 Agent Steel's Omega Conspiracy tore threw the Jenakbala airwaves like a mighty wind. Sleeker, downtuned, but armed with with the same worthy songcraft and weirdness that made their 80's output such a pleasure. Out is original vocalist John Cyriis, he of the shrillness, and in comes John Hall, a vocalist of similar air raid qualities, though more polished. There are some forgettable songs, some of the riffs reek of 90's grunge and nu metal, and the new line up would not completely gel until the Order of The Illuminati, but this is a worthy comeback. 

 

Adventure In Samur Part 16.1 - Awaken The Swarm

On raven pass, high in the black mountains of Dantor, there is a small camp for the few travelers that wander here. Just a stone fireplace and a small piece of flat ground, but for aeons it had served as a temporary home for the occasional wanderers that pass this way. On this night there was a fire in the hearth and Bloodmace, along with Crowbastard, Jarkon, Lars and I had camped here, hoping to find the lair of Vecton the Bard, but it appears that he has found us. He stands before us in his billowing pinstriped suit, wings flexing slightly as he chuckles at our state of alarm. Having introduced himself,

he walks toward us from the rocky precipice where he landed out of the darkness. "You seek the crystal canyon?" A smile crosses his face and I answer him from my place near the fire. "We were sent here by Rangar, he says you can show us the way to Headron's fortress." Vecton now throws back his head with hearty laughter. "I bet he did! That old scoundrel. He finally found someone to carry out the mission he cannot. Well, good for him and good for you for helping an old man's dream come true. We shall embark in the morning." One by one, the others filtered off to bed until I was once alone with the long armed stranger. He says to me, in a low voice, "You are the one who was made by Headron to destroy your friends, are you not?" I feel my eyes tense into slits, "I am. What is that to you?" He reaches into his coat pocket, "I must give this to you, it's from Rangar." He hands me an embroidered patch that sparkles in the bright moonlight. I recognize the lettering from the walls of Keep Trawston and the tree prison of the T'chah Karnac. It is a Mournful Congregation patch, one of the infamous lost works by the Huiskitel masters of long ago. He puts his hand upon my shoulder. "Tomorrow, my friend, all will be explained." He turns, stretches out his wings and gracefully leaps over the side of the mountain, flying into the mysterious darkness.

Hirax's New Age of Terror is a bit of a disappointment, in that the punkified power violence guys have polished up a bit, and the glorious thrash cheesiness has settled into a more power metal vein, but there is still lots to like about this album. Vocalist Katon W. De Pena balls seem to have dropped, and the nasally tone is gone. But, this is a thrashy riff beast, and quite satisfying in it no apologies old schoolness. Highlight of the album is Hostile Territory, a speedster that demonstrates that this band operates best at high velocities. Alas, I do pine for the days of yore with the one minute songs about Satan. And Katon was always the best yodeler in metal.
 

Adventure In Samur Part 16.2 - Shadow Thief
The morning air was thick with fog as we set out along the yellow rimmed path. It was hard to imagine as we were walking among the clouds that we would soon be fighting for our very lives in the valley below. Up here everything was silent, frozen in time like a painting. Mistress Crowbastard was walking on her own today, recovering from her near death experience at the hands of the Vorm when we arrived in Dantor. We followed Vecton up a steep climb up an almost sheer rock face and

hoisted ourselves up into a cavern. When our eyes became accustomed to the dim light, we realized that the same moss carpet we saw in the lair of Rangar and the Sectaurians also covered the walls and floor of this very passageway, except there were no brave he heroes depicted on this living tapestry. Here, scenes of their gods and demons battling for souls and bloody scenes of torture glared out at us from every side. Our stretch-armed, winged host motions us on, "Hurry, this is no place to tarry. I always say 'don't mess with the Sectaurian curse.' It's not far now, come on." we hurried down the cursed rock throughway until we came to a large gallery, with tunnels leading in every direction. Across the eerie chamber we skittered to another, smaller cave, then through a labyrinthine series of twists and turns that left us feeling disoriented and lost, but on we went into the darkness, following our strange guide. We finally end up at a small chamber with a pool in the middle . in the center of the pool is a statue of Parthon with an obscure inscription on it's base. Vecton turns and speaks to the group, "We must dive in. When you get under, swim to the light and we will enter the crystal canyon. Quickly, we dive in to the pool, swimming past the sculpture of our friend from Narn and toward the bright spot beyond him and on the floor of the spring. I swim down and into the aperture where I see Vecton going, but as soon as I swam into the lightI started falling as if what was once below me was now above me. With a thud my body slams into the hard ground, then one by one, my comrades fall through the same hole in the ceiling. Shaking my head I peer out of our landing spot and, with the others gasp. Looking down into the canyon, we could see that it truly was made of crystals. Shining, faceted stones that concentrated the light into a glittering beam. Suddenly, Vecton flaps up from below the egress that looks out on the canyon. Be careful here kids, the plaza of errors is almost finished."

Jag Panzer's -Age of Mastery was the Winner of the Night. I have to admit, I never was fan of this band, especially their much lauded 1st album, 1984's Ample Destruction. I never cared for 'The Tyrant's' hoarse, slightly atonal caterwaul. But that dude was long gone by 1998, replaced by the confident power metal wail of Harry Conklin. Oh wait, same dude. Well, I guess his balls dropped. This is simply a great heavy metal album, full of majesty, meat and potatoes riffery(though there are some symphonic tinges here and there), and inspiring melodies. It kicked our asses, dude. 

 

Words of the Elders

Tears of gods fall upon the barren dirt in this wasteland of fate. There, above, do you hear it? The call of the wyvern, the smell of sourwood! The power of Centon shall rise! Stay tuned next week to learn the secrets of the crystal canyon!

Until next week sodden hordes,

Horns

On They Slay - Progressive Death Metal and an Encounter at Raven's Pass

In the dusty pages of heavy metal's hallowed history, there has always been a special place reserved for the obtuse blending of classical and pop forms that we know as "prog," or "progressive." Many of the genre’s influences spring from the primordial muck of the late sixties and early seventies, heyday of the international prog rock phenomenon. Our albums tonight hailed from the formative years of death metal, when this burgeoning scene was poised to take over from its parent, thrash metal. Many DM bands took the route of grinding out Celtic Frost inspired sludge, slowing it down to a near Sabbath-like crawl while other bands played ultra fast, but there was also a faction of bands who took more chances. Represented here are three of the early pioneers of technical death metal who pushed the boundaries of with an uncompromising take on what, at the time, was one of the most extreme forms of metal available. With Pimm's cup in hand, we tread down this meandering path of virtuosos, violence and victory, seeking labyrinthine riffs, jaw-dropping rhythm sections and mind shattering solos. Here is our report.

Atheist’s Piece of Time was, appropriately, the first contender. This was, after all, ground zero for tech death. People really get on their knees for this one and with good reason. Their monstrously tight rhythm section, Steve Flynn (drums) and Roger Patterson (bass,) are completely merciless and their incredibly fluid interactions are really impressive to behold. Guitarists Kelly Shaefer and Rand Burkey reel off one insane riff after another while leaving just the right amount of space to highlight the tastefully busy drumming. A perennial favorite among egghead metal fans, this is a band you need to check out.

Adventure In Samur Part 15.1 - Disincarnated 

The stronghold of Rangar and the Sectaurians lies under the Karlac mountains of Dantor. A massive complex of rooms, passages and halls where this reclusive society carries out its business beyond the reach of the tyrant Headron, who has brutally usurped this dimension from the spider, insect and lizard humanoids. Inside a plush bar at the heart of this great maze, Rangar the spider king sits at a moss covered rock table. Surrounding him is our ragged party, Lars the Berserker, Jarkon, Mistress Crowbastard, Bloodmace and I. Together, we are studying a brittle old map of Raven pass, a treacherous but secretive way to gain access to the mountain fortress of the evil lord Headron. The arachnoid king, pointing out a small pathway that threads the peaks, explains our route, "You will leave here by the ruined tunnel in the old town. The path is hard to follow, but look for the yellow salil flowers, they grow along the edge of the pass. When you come to the first peak, look for Vecton the Bard, he will show you the gate of light in the crystal canyon." Lars, looking in the direction of Jarkon says, "I will not go with this traitor." A rush of voices rises from around the craggy table, trying to talk the bold barbarian out of his rash words. Rangar holds his hand up and pronounces, "Lars the berserker, I know of your pain, and the loss of your village but Jarkon is not responsible for this. His creations

were taken by the Slib riders and used against your village in a desperate attempt to stop your mission from being completed." Lars says nothing but follows as the regal spider leads us out of the bar and down a hall carpeted in thick mosses, expertly cultivated to form an exquisite pattern of vines and filigree that surround portraits of heroic Sectaurians, noble insects, brave spiders and haughty lizards. The walls of the passage were impossibly smooth, polished rock, like the walls of the bar. From above our way was lit by a swarming mass of luminescent insects. We traveled on in silence until Rangar took a sharp turn into a doorway. We followed him up steep, roughly carved steps and down a passage almost entirely blocked by a cave in. Exoskeletons of fallen warriors and their weapons were everywhere among the debris. When we finally emerged into the daylight, we found ourselves in a small outcropping along the thin path that snaked along the side of the steep, rocky peak. some stunted trees grew near the misty precipice before us and a small altar with burning incense and a likeness of Eddie the 'Ead was carved into the rock near the pass. Rangar turns to address us, "when you reach Headron's lair, use your magic. We will fly down from our stronghold and attack while you take control of the gate." Looking around him wistfully, he adds, "It is fitting you should leave from here. This is the place where our people made their last stand against the forces of Headron, the place where we were slaughtered almost to extinction." Hands behind his back, he wanders to the edge of the path, and looking out with his many eyes into the fog, calls to his ancestors, perhaps the very beings we saw on the carpet earlier, or the ones we saw in the tunnel. Wordlessly and without fanfare the spider king turns and walks back into the darkened passage and one by one, we make our way along Raven Pass

Our second outing was a very different kind of death metal. For The Security by the Swedish outfit, Carbonized took us down the punk side of the mountain, ratcheting up the speed and intensity to grindcore-like levels of brutality. Again, however, the drummer stole the show. Piotr Wawrzeniuk, while not as fluid as his counterparts on the other albums we explored, shows off some serious chops as he lays down a thick carpet of double bass and crusty fills that drive this maniac masterpiece. Another aspect of this album that I enjoyed was the slightly murky production that bathes the music in a grimy tub of underground cred. For me it was a nice change from the surgical precision of the Morrisound treatment that lent sheen to the other two albums. This was my favorite band of the night, but Bloodmace had other plans...

Adventure In Samur Part 15.2 - Reflections of the Dark

The day had slipped away. We were closing in on the spot where we were instructed to seek out Vecton the Bard, but the light was quickly fading. I knew we were on the right path, for the yellow flowers grew abundantly along the edge of our route, but we were getting restless looking for a spot to bed down for the night, for we had been warned against traveling too late by Rangar. Higher and higher we climbed into the frigid sky until finally, in the dusky purple twilight, we came upon a flat spot among the midget trees and porous volcanic rocks. There was no sign of Vecton here, but we set up camp and prepared our rations. The night crept over us and Jarkon used his fire magic to create a small blaze to illuminate our little base as we each took guard duty. It was my shift, deep in the lake of midnight, when there came a great flapping of wings from the darkness. I grabbed my sword instinctively and searched the night sky for any sign of the enemy. The commotion woke up Lars and Jarkon, who sprang up, weapons in hand, ready to confront the unseen attacker. "There are only two more things you need to do" a voice booms out, "that you should not do." Into the light steps a tall, wraith like human dressed in a pinstriped suit. His beard and mustache are groomed into points, long brown hair cascades over his shoulders. From the back of the suit protrude wings that curve up above his head and down almost to his feet. Inordinately long arms terminate in sharp black claws that come nearly to the ground. Crowbastard and Bloodmace have awakened from their slumber and have also armed themselves against the startling night visitor. "What do you want from us?" I inquire of the stranger. "What is your name?" A smile breaks over the his face and he replies, "To some I am the polisher of grain who walks by night. To some I am the voice that speaks in the wind. This mountain is my heart and the raven is my sight. Some call me the lurker in the twilight, but you can call me Vecton, Vecton the Bard."

By the time Gorguts' first slab hit the platter I had begun to have second thoughts about my idea to spike our tennis cocktails with extra gin. Vecton the Bard had gone off on a Colonel Sanders tangent, Bloodmace was smashing out the windows of the Jenkabala throne room (again) and all around us the spirits of the dead gathered, crooning their seductive chant like sirens and waiting for us to smash into the rocky shore. We made our best effort to listen carefully to Considered Dead, the Canuk Quartet's debut long player, but I have to say that I feel like I'm hearing it for the first time as I write this. This was for sure the most traditional death metal album we heard, looking at it through the prisim of the twenty two years. Back in '91, however, this was the cutting edge shit. Guitar pig squeals were not yet the death metal cliche they are today and there was no Nathan Explosion. In short, though these guys were the band we discussed least, they were the ones who wrote the most chapters in the book of the way you do it now. The end of the evening came and Bloodmace, drunk on gin and power, mounted the golden throne and donned the mask of judgment. He held aloft the jeweled scepter and lightning came down from the sky. With a terrible cry, he made his pronouncement, "I declare the winner of metal night to be...Athiest! Tremble before me mortals! Hahahahahahaha!" 

Words of the Elders

The voice of midnight calls dear, gentle readers. The voice of the wolf is the voice of our people who cry out for freedom from under the yoke of commerce! Headron must be stopped in his quest to sell the world of Centon to religious zealots all over the galaxy. Night is ours though, sweet children of the timepiece world. The shadows will forever hold fear for those with evil in their hearts and from the pure, inky black of the star spattered sky, judgment comes, swift and silent as a tempered blade!

Until next week, metal minions,

Horns