Pain of Days - Make-Up Madness and Zlendar's spell

For Impaled Nazarene's sake!! It's been too long. But Metal Night soldiers on, regardless of whether we get off our asses to write this fucking thing or not. Metal Night is eternal. It has always happened, and always will happen, even before our births, and even after we die and are rotting in our graves, still conscious, and feeling the agony worms burrow into our flesh. It was and always shall be. Cuz we just get together and listen to music and drink. And this is what we listened to, man.

Into the Necro Lands Part 19.1 - One With Fire

The moon was bright enough to light the wide path that led to Zlendar's house. Rygar the Seeker led us through the jungle wordlessly and with great caution. Bloodmace and I, deprived of our magical battle jackets since we left for Sekran, were on high alert. In the shadows around us we could hear at least three or four animals stalking us and my heart jumped when I saw a flash of eyes from the trees ahead. The trail began to curve and Rygar held up his hand. The spear he held began to glow and with a spark, produced a flame from the tip that revealed our hunters. All around us, large black cats had gathered. There were fifteen, perhaps twenty vicious looking felines, hissing and croaking out their warning. Bloodmace brandished his club, but Rygar stopped him “Easy, barbarian. We want to get there in one piece.” The seeker took a lanyard from around his neck and held it aloft, “Danyana Karcasta extasius ghabin” The cats cease their hissing and before us, the largest of their number approaches. Rygar begins speaking to their leader an an incomprehensible garble. The beast sits on its hind quarter for a moment and scratches its ear then emits a loud yowl, dispersing the hunting party back into the shadows. Rygar looks back at us, “The right persuasion.” He swings the charm up into the air, catching it with his other hand. Continuing into the darkness, I notice the number of cats around us has not decreased, they are everywhere. At long last we come to a fork in the path, “This is the way.” Says Rygar , “Hurry on brothers, the Molnaar chief has granted us passage, but if one of them gets hungry...” We step up the pace through the smaller fork with the fragrant brush encroaching ever more on the path until we are at last cutting through a bramble where there once was a path. Then, suddenly, we are in a clearing. A garden opens out before us, flowers glowing blue in the moonlight. Scattered around the grounds are statues of the great chiefs of the lizard tribes in northern Jenkabala. I gasped out loud at the rush of memories from home that flood over me. Straight ahead, an ivy covered cabin presides over the serene landscape, windows glowing cheerfully with yellow light. Rygar turns to us, “We have arrived.”

Yesterday, Demon Scourge and I, along with Lady Bird Blood and Rangar The Sectaurian, took Metal Night on location, and took in am underground black metal show at some hidey-hole on the inner city called The New Church. Barghest, from Baton Rouge, LA, headlined, with Grand Rapids Discarnate and Dakhma opening. All three bands put in stellar, intense sets. The three piece Dakhma is a brand of atmospheric blackened crust was hypnotic and face melting. These kids inserted lots of raw passion into their set, with the drummer and vocalist in a deadlock for our souls, while the guitar player laid down layers of hateful texture. Vocalist Clair screamed her fucking head off until I though her head would explode. It did not. Great local band. Next, Discarnate roasted our flesh and sucked our souls with a solid set of old school black metal, with a crusty edge. Grand Rapidians love their crust, that's for certain. They were tight and evil, the riffs were delectable, and the singer wore an evil hood, and the red lighting evoked an atmosphere pure fucking hellocaust. Their last song inspired the first mosh pit. Barghest roared into their set and into our black hearts with their roaring brand of slightly sludgy blackened death. Metal as fuck. Several thousand blast beats later, our small, unholy coven disbanded into the night, to spread discord and bloody mayhem. Barghest ate sandwiches at Two Beards in the morning, before invading Chicago.

Into the Necro Lands Part 19.2 - Fade to Insanity

Across the neatly manicured garden we strode to the entrance of the little cabin. Rygar raps on the heavy door with the demon headed knocker. After a moment, the portal creaks open. Standing before us is not the wizened crone I had expected, but a vigorous mystic, draped in a sparkling sharn after the fashion of Jenkabala's saurian tribe. A long smile crept across her exquisitely scaled face as she greeted our guide warmly, “Rygar, welcome. I see you have bought our young princes.” She nods to us, sizing my brother and I up with inky eyes. Rygar answers, “Yes, but time is short. Necro Baby and Bildorf the Mad are in pursuit. They were fighting one another when we helped these two to escape, but it won't be long before they track us here.” The mysterious Zlendar nods in response and silently beckons us to follow with a swish of her cape. Inside the small room, shelves are sagging under the weight of the dusty, leather bound tomes in a hundred languages that line the walls. Everywhere, magical objects are piled, pushed and stored in stacks. She motions to a gilt table on one side of this enchanted library, “Sit here,” She says, clearing jars, bottles and scrolls from the surface before us. “I have to get some things before we begin. Put on those cloaks.” She motions to a rack near the door where drab, blood spattered robes are hung. Our

host disappears through a door and we can hear her rummaging and cursing as we nervously don the musty garments. Returning to us, she unrolls a large map, holding down each corner with smooth, greenish stones. I can pick out Jenkabala within the shape of Centon, but that is only a small part of the map. The constellation of islands that spray out in the middle of the ocean are not familiar to me though. Even further beyond that there is a large island I have never heard of. My head reels with this new knowledge, but it's not the most curious feature of the cartograph. The other half, once unrolled, is a mirror of the first image, but the power lines of each different form of magic are represented. The lines are luminous, with strength of magic represented by brightness, so it is clear to see the green magic of the inland forest gets weaker, but does not disappear over the ocean, and so it was with the many forms of esoteric energies in the world. Each had waxing and waning power in the varying geographic areas, but there was one bright web that stretched all over the map. Behind us, candles flare and pungent incense curls fill the room with a bracing scent as Zlendar readies her magic. Stepping up to the table, she addresses us, “Please stand. We will need to join hands.” The candles brighten in response to our contact. “Pyrna ooleck chakakst,” She begins to chant, “Erka amanti gornah!” Over and over, she chants words turning over and over. A goblet is passed, the drink has a strange, metallic taste. The chant resumes and the drink begins to take effect, twisting the words inside out and backwards. The bright lines that cover one side of the map begin to glow with a firey intensity until they are filling my sight. I hear the voice of the witch, “Think of the battle vests, think back to the day you parted. Where are they?” The images rush into my head and I feel like my skull wil split open with the energetic force they create. I am screaming, Bloodmace is screaming, and above the din Zlendar's voice barks a command to Rygar, “The bag! Use it now!” Hot liquid is pouring everywhere and darkness envelops me.

      *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

I came back to consciousness with a start. Everything in the small room where our ordeal had taken place was as though nothing had happened. I am laying on a couch looking at the table across the room and Bloodmace laying under it. I rise to waken him and feel something strange around my torso. Looking down I see the greatest thing I have lain eyes upon since our ordeal began on centon. Our battle vests. Once again our mystical vestments protected us. Once again we had the means to defeat Necro Baby and Bildorf the mad. Light was streaming through the windows of the ivy covered cabin, I had a feeling today would be a good day.

The previous Metal Night was spent in the Jenkabala Dungeon, mortifying our flesh to brand new death/doom. Paradise Lost's new album, The Plague Within, is a fantastic return to form and was the winner of the night. This album most resembles Draconian Times and Icon, but with a return to death growls by vocalist Nick Holmes, along with the Gothic tunefulness. Nothing really new, but the song writing is topnotch, the atmosphere doleful, the riffs solid and satisfying. Next, Forgotten Tomb singed our ears with their blackened sludge fest 'Hurt Yourself And The Ones You Love'. This is easily their best since 'Songs To Leave'. Nice doomy sludge meets esoteric evil Italian style. This is a level of hate you need special training for. But rest assured, we survived with our souls intact, which is disappointing in and of itself. Great album, but did not capture our sullen hearts like Paradise Lost. Lastly, the appropriately monikered Crypt Sermon tried to get us right with God, Trouble style, with their 2015 debut, Out Of The Garden. Throw in some Candlemass for good measure. This album was pretty ok. If you are into The Skull era Trouble, and Candlemass, this album will be your cup of mead. Nothing very memorable, though.

And now, a journey into the distant past, as previous Metal Nights have been drunken debaucheries and I just can't remember all the bands we heard. But here, it is, all the shit that I can remember:

Enforcer-From Beyond: New School old school speed metal is hot right now and Enforcer leads the vested pack. Demon Scourge likes this band more than I do. When I want to hear old speed metal, I'll just put on some Exciter. Not saying they are a bad band at all, but I just don't find this album very memorable. Into The Night was better. I think this won the night. My memory is foggy.

German thrash masters Vendetta won our hearts when we heard their 1988 album Brain Damage. It is excellent technical thrash, and definitely an unjustly ignored album. Think Destruction at their most nimble, toss in a little Voivod, and Coroner, and heaps and heaps of fucking thrash. The level of playing is staggeringly good. Great album. I think it won the night. We drank like Germans.

Ok, that's it. We'll try to keep up. But we are such terrible alcoholics. It's over for us. It's all over.


Words of the Elders 
Behold a world of doors and mirrors, a world of tense pauses that widen out into a limitless gulf of black. How can you understand the song of space? The voice of infinity cannot be measured in beats or bushels, drachmas or drams. We have no apparatus to comprehend, and yet our ears are still pressed to the ground, waiting for the sound of distant hooves. To travel is to move, and so we do, traveling with hearts and fangs. Meat sticks, marching to the unheard beat, a lilting call from space. Icy claws grasping greedily at the edges of perception. 

Until next time, bestial sorcerers, 


Horns 

Amulet of Justice - Headron Gets His and we Jam New Releases

Enforcer's Death by Fire started things out the right way with a retro minded blast of old school circa 1983 Heavy Fuckin' Metal. A few gentle piano strains start the album off, but its pure ass kicking the rest of the way. This band is in the vein of Wolf and other younger retro metal bands. Much attention is paid to the purity of the old sounds, the construction of old school riffs and solos, all the while retaining just enough personality of their own. Think demo era Metallica, Exciter, and all things NWOBHM. Think denim, leather, patches, cheap beer, and maybe some trucker crack. Actually, don't think. Just turn this shit up, dude.

Adventure In Samur Part 18.1 - Bells of Hades

I had used the power in the patches sewn on to my denim vest many times. I was ready for the hot tingling in my hands and the discharge of energy from them when I unleashed the power from the magic embroidery. This time, however, it was different. Before me stood our greatest foe, Headron, gray skin covered with a business suit, lightning flowing from his fingertips. Behind me was the rest of our party. Mistress Crowbastard, Jarkon the Inflamer and Vecton the Bard were holding off the massive surge of soldiers who were storming this tower and Lars the Berserker, rebounding from a bolt from Headron's hand was running up the stair to help me. I had narrowly dodged a searing shock from above and when I put my hand upon my Bathory patch, I felt a sharp pain and from my

outstretched arm came a blast that took both Headron and I by surprise. With no time to react, the tyrant caught the brunt of the blow, knocking him back through the heavy door from witch he emerged. Lars and I rush up to the landing, where the smell of burning flesh hangs heavily in the air. Dust clouds obscure everything as we cautiously approach the wreckage. Before we can even peer into the inner sanctum of our enemy, he leaps out form the darkness, but Lars is too quick for him, the barbarian's fist smashes what is left of Headron's face and I send a deadly spell from the Exciter patch. The body goes limp and crumples to the ground before us. We lean down to examine the flesh bag, but at that moment we are both caught off guard when our foe rushes us in the body of one of the intergalactic businessmen who were about to buy Centon from him when we showed up. Now a stout, amphibious looking humanoid with tremendous bulging eyes on either side of his aquiline face, Headron bellows, "Fools! Your world is mine now. Already my troops are hunting your friends on Centon. Your legacy shall be expunged from history!" He draws his cutlass, I feel it draining energy from me as soon as it is unsheathed. My heart sinks knowing there are more bodies for him to inhabit in his chamber, but from outside we hear the buzzing and chirping of a thousand flying insects. Rangar the Sectaurian has come.

Because thinking is what is required to engage with the next masterpiece by avant-garde weirdos The Meads of Asphodel. Time to get out the Wikipedia folks, cuz this is a head trip that will require repeated listening and much studious inquiry in order to absorb what's happening. The Meads have always been an  eclectic band, with one foot rooted firmly in black metal and the other the music of the world. But most notably this is their most technically accomplished, displaying more musical proficiency than ever before besides their artful and bizarre meanderings. This time, the Meads explore the Holocaust with as much iconoclasm and intellect as the Gnostic religious musings of previous albums. This got my vote for winner of the night, though Demon Scourge digressed and he did so with a gore-soaked knife and Mistress Crowbastard put a spell on him and taught him a lesson he will never forget. Feral babies were slaughtered and women and children and menfolk, too. Too many sidecars.

Adventure In Samur Part 18.2 - Mesmerized by Fire

A look of panic crosses Headron's face as a stream of tiny nsects pours through every opening of his fortified tower. Below, we can hear the terrified screams of his ghostly legions as the insect men rend their legion with mandible and pincer. The shape shifting king turns from us and runs into the throne room. As Lars and I persue our quarry I feel a tingling at the base of my skull that turns into the voice of Rangar, "You must use the patch...use the patch." My hand reaches into the inside pocket of the

leather beneath my denim. Headron is running for the gate to Centon but before he can get there Lars has tackled him. I pull out the Mournful Congregation patch and hold it to my denim. Rangar's voice comes out of my mouth, "I hold you Headron, Ankra t'chmala dentoich!" The two warriors struggle on the ground before the portal. Headron throws Lars from on top of him, thrusting at him with his sword. Our enemy's power is great, but Lars, in his anger, calls fourth the Berserker from the slaughtering void and his ax rains down destruction on everything before it. Headron lunges for his escape, but the ax falls on the body he in inhabiting again and again, but this time there is no escape, he is held within that form by Rangar's spell. Lars the Berserker tears the head from the body that still contains the dying tyrant and lets out a victorious howl. I watch as he runs to the balcony on the other side of the throne room and holds the bloody head aloft, then hurls it down into the throng of retreating demons. Rangar, perched upon a magnificent battle wasp hovers nearby, "Demon Scourge!" He calls to me, "Let us go on to Centon, we must also destroy the gate he built in Jenkabala Palace! Take your friends there now, we shall follow. Onward to victory!"

Words of the Elders

So it is done. The tyrant has been defeated by the oppressed, but Centon is still in danger. Is the father of Bloodmace and Demon Scourge really in league with Headron? What secrets that lie buried in the past will rise from their mouldering tombs to confront the metal warriors upon their return?

Until next week, neck snappers,

Horns

Into the Night - Swedish Metal on Mount Tarvo

 SWEDEN!!!! The motherfucking capital of everything motherfucking metal! Motherfuck! Not only does Sweden rule the night with its peculiar brands of death metal, black metal, power metal, ect, but another genre of metal has arisen from the ice blasted wastelands: presenting.............The New Wave of Swedish Traditional Metal!!!!!!!!!! Demon Scourge and myself lifted glorious pints of  beer and brandy to the new metal godz!

Saga of the Gatemaster, Part 14.1 -  Beyond the Realms of Death

To return from the realms of the dead you must be guided to a body by a learned shamen, and so we were. Bloodmace, Master Raknar, Lady DeathCrush, Hellmaster and I had been returned to our bodies and cast into this snowy pit where we now faced off with the Gatemaster, a stone creature of birdlike appearance whose four arms terminated in dangerous looking granite claws. Standing twice as tall as any of us, it had nearly sent us back to that dark and sorrowful place where lost warriors haunt the empty plains like shadowy wraiths in an endless night when we heard something from beyond the rim of our icy prison, a keening noise that swooped down and faded away. The Gatemaster, temporarily distracted, was knocked down by Hellmaster in a well timed berserker fury. Suddenly, a savage riff, tribal pounding, and more figures dropped into the fierce battle. Above, a savage looking man in dark glasses was screaming down “Raging! About us! The signs of war are coming!” The guitar players had sailed gracefully down the steep walls of blasted earth that enclosed us and had begun playing the majestic harmonies that led into the last chorus of the old hymn. Closer and closer they came to one another and to the fearsome Gatemaster. Just as their frenzied playing was at its peak, the space between them began to buckle and dematerialize. The Gatemaster realized what was happening, but too late. From high above the lanky shaman leading the prayer leapt from the edge of the wall where he stood and sailed down, landing just behind the creature’s sleek head. In a rising falsetto he screamed out, “Unstoppable Force!” and ejected himself from the monster’s back, the backwards energy from his escape hurling the behemoth into the empty space between the sparking axes wielded by the guitar players.

First, we heard Portrait, a band made in the craven image of Merciful Fate. This would practically be a cover band if only they had not crafted a self titled debut album of the best songs Merciful Fate never jammed. Not highly original, this band sticks to the basic formula of medium register growl, piercing falsetto, and a quasi-prog riff attack, clever time changes, and Satanic lyrical references. The singer does not pose as massive a vocal presence as King Diamond, but settles well into the back ground, and lets the fantastic guitar work and rhythmic interplay do the talking. This is a great debut and we are looking forward to hearing more from these heathens.

 Saga of the Gatemaster Part 14.2 - Swordbrothers

For a moment the five of us simply stared at the three of them. The Gatemaster was gone and an eerie wind had kicked up, blowing the dry snow across the top of the pit, diffusing the hard light of the clear sky above us. The stout, gruff musician with spiked gauntlets strode over to us and offered his hand. “Hai! I am Baron Lotar, tyrant of Vorn. I welcome you back to life brothers!” Lotar breaks into a wide smile and the others begin to approach as well.  The singer in the fringy black leather is the next to greet us, “I am Moloch, the artist. Master of chants and eldritch symbols.”  From further afield, the blonde guitar player wearing all white leather, stained now with ectoplasm and his own blood, limps slowly towards us. “Hello friends, I am Hell Wraith, cryptophysicist and designer of the instruments we used to call you here. Let us all travel to the top of this cursed hole and meet the others.”  With that the battle worn mystic began to play and we began to rise slowly to the top of the crater.  There at the top we were greeted by two familiar faces, Lady Steel, who greeted us with a nod, and Vorthon the Whip of Fate. Bloodmace’s eyes light up at the sight of his old pupil’s face and the mystics grasp hands to forearms in a secret greeting. Vorthon’s glance darts around the group then he clears his throat and says loudly, “Friends. Let us repair to camp Arbon in the foothills, there is much…” He trails off as we all turn our gaze in the direction of the frightful noise that explodes from the south. Bloodmace and I glance at one another. Our father has awakened.

Secondly, we heard the already classic album from Sweden's original trad metal revivalists Wolf. Evil Star is simply one of the all time great metal albums, one that would have made this band superstars if only they had been born 20-30years earlier.. Formed in the late 90's, these chiggers were retro revivalists before it was cool, incorporating the best of classic metal like Priest, Maiden, and Merciful Fate, as well as fellow Swedes Heavy Load and Oz, into a sound that is uniquely their own. Evil Star makes the most out of its' Merciful Fate and Swedish influences. The production is shining(though the vocals are overly processed). We loved this album, and made it the winner of the night.


This was a hard night to choose from, though, as everything we heard was stellar and highly recommended. Enforcer's Into The Night was probably the most straightforwardly ass kicking, a rollicking journey into the days of the metal of yore. It was also the most speed metal tinged, though sounding more in the vein of Kill 'Em All era Metallica, Agent Steel, and Maiden's faster moments. Fast as it can get, this is metal firmly entrenched in the traditions of NWOBHM. Every track is a hot nugget of molten steel! Arrrgggggghhhhhh!!!!!!!!!! Bang your heads, duders!!!

Words of the Elders

And so it goes, round and round. The metallic masters of yesterday have been awakened by the heroes of today but rushing up through the murky water of the past is the ancient titan, Bloodhammer. Father to Bloodmace and Demon Scourge, this towering pillar of judgement awakens only when dire troubles arise in the land of the living. What sentence shall he pass?  Has he come back to champion his sons in their quest to save the world of Centon or, like Saturn before him, devour them in fear and jealousy? As the sky grows dark around cursed Mount Tarvo, the demons echoing laughter can be heard  cascading over the Trawston plains...

Until next week, Agents of Steel

Horns