Protector - Golem (1988)

One of the things I always enjoyed about Protector was the fantastical whimsy on some of their earlier cover arts, and in the lyrics, starting with the debut full-length Golem. While I was usually forced to admire them from the pages of some magazine or catalogue, there was this sense of camaraderie, like these guys were a thrash band but also huge D&D/fantasy/horror nerds, just as I was (and remain). I can't promise that these concepts always translate much into the music (they certainly do on the title track here), but they help spark up the imagination on first glance or listen. Golem doesn't stray too far from Misanthropy, but there are some subtle differences, one being that they're incorporating a little bit more complexity and variation in the riffing and structures.

Still a huge Sodom influence throughout this one, shadowing Agent Orange, but it struck me that this album also had a more American influence through it. "Delirium Tremens" reminds me a lot of the Arizona bands, the faster riffing circa Atrophy's Socialized Hate while the slower, meaty mosh part was very Sacred Reich. Likely more of a case of parallel musical evolution, but still notable as I think fans of those groups would go bananas over this. You get some gang shouts, a little bit of Speak English or Die era S.O.D. in some of the slower riffs, but then when they burst out into the faster stuff, it's got a lot more of that Sodom style. The guitars aren't always the catchiest, but they know how to succeed dynamically between the different tempos, atmospheric wails and leads that keep it from ever being boring. This record is where a lot more of the sustained death metal growls rear up, especially in the lumbering title track, which is one of its true highlights, loads of great weird guitar work in there, bedrock grooves in the verses and probably the best written lead they'd done yet, if brief.

The rhythm guitars definitely have a boxier tone to them, not as brash or violent sounding as the earlier EP, but still will club your brains into mush, especially on those slower moments ("Germanophobe", "Golem", etc). The distortion always gave me an ever-so-slight off-tune vibe, but whether that's just me being mental or the reality of the recording, it works regardless, and I enjoy the frenzied bursts into the choppier riffs like in "Germanophobe" where the riff resembles Possessed. The bass is more present here and they're doing some whacky sound effects to keep the tunes entertainment, which is one of the band's sure strong points, that they might be rolling along in the treads of others, but they're certainly testing the limits of those tracks. It's not the best of the Protector albums...a few riffs get samey with one another, the "Space Cake" outro, which shifts from acoustics to what feels like a mere portion of another song, and has really goofy vocals made even sillier when they go into the gang vocals before the fadeout. But there is really no questioning the craft and personality they were bringing to their scene, and easily deserve recognition alongside other acts like Holy Moses, Vendetta, Iron Angel, and that second strata of German thrash acts who were just shy of international potential.

Verdict: Win [8/10] (Muscles filled with life)

https://www.facebook.com/Protector.666not777

Armored Saint - Saints Will Conquer EP (1988)

Saints Will Conquer was a brief live album released to help herald the band's transition over to Metal Blade records, and also give the fans a brief taste of the band in that forum. It's not a complete set, featuring just five tracks, but there's also a bonus track from the band's initial 1982 demo. When I first picked this up, I was quite picky about live albums, having a few that I really liked (Live After Death, Live Without Sense to name a few), but I was generally more interested in studio material and found such stuff pretty redundant. Thankfully, this was purchased on one of my many trips to a used cassette section, costing me only about $2, and for that I'd say it was a worthwhile presentation of a band. Having said that, it's apparent early on that Richard Kriegler's awesome cover art would be the best thing about this. It still is!

The live tracks are sampled from across the band's first three studio albums, and it's got a dirty, raw and powerful mix to it which does successfully deliver their infectious energy to the audience, and thus the eventual listener. "Raising Fear" and "Nervous Man" go off without a hitch, and it's entertaining to hear John hacking and growling in the latter right before the lead. "Can U Deliver" is not my favorite Saint song, but the version here sounds much more intense and engaging than the studio incarnation, and if you've got the CD version of this, you actually get a few bonus tracks in "Chemical Euphoria" and "Long Before I Die" that frankly should have been included on every iteration, because they just ramp up the overall speed and heaviness and value. It's not as smoothly mixed as some other live offerings of its day, but at the same time it has a lot more pent-up power, this feels a lot more legit like what you'd actually experience if you'd paid your money and walked in to witness them on the stage. Any of the marginal sloppiness or imperfections from the performance is a bonus, especially the leads like in "Book of Blood", which just sound outrageous, especially with Gonzo and Vera laying down the rhythm below.

The "No Reason to Live" demo track is a power ballad, and not a bad one, but just know up front that it feels a little out of place after having your face sandblasted by "Book of Blood" and "Madhouse". The tune does pick into a passable little metal number, and John's vocals soar across the bridge; there is also a nice lead section, and Joey's bass is prominent, but despite all that it's not the most memorable of tracks in their catalogue. For demo production it's pretty solid, but I do wonder if it wouldn't have just been better to toss on a couple more live tracks and make this more consistent as a proper 35-40 minute live album. As it stands, its a little of a lopsided, hybrid thing, "No Reason to Live" could have just as well been thrown onto the Nod to the Old School collection later, not that they knew such a thing would happen at the time, but it's an odd man out. Otherwise, a solid and fun live recording, make sure you've got the versions with the bonus tracks!

Verdict: Win [7/10]

https://www.armoredsaint.com/

Megadeth - So Far, So Good... So What! (1988)

If So Far, So Good... So What? doesn't get mentioned in the same reverence as the records sandwiching it, that's probably for a good reason, because this is a strange one. It's Megadeth through and through, don't get me wrong, but the band is certainly taking more chances here than one might have anticipated, with some slower, more emotional pieces to contrast against the more intense battery, another cover that feels a little too cheesy against the originals, and a couple of cuts that don't quite get a Golden Star from the teacher. Ironically, this features a few of my favorite cuts from the band, it's just that they are not all created equally. In Megadeth's defense, they were enduring half the roster being changed out...Gar Samuelson and Chris Poland dropped for their alleged drug addiction, Chuck Behler and Jeff Young signing on board to replace them, so the idea that this would be a step up the ladder like Peace Sells... was from the debut was wishful thinking at best.

Weirdly, the issues I take here are almost the inverse of those few I had on Peace Sells... That album frontloaded all of its best material, where this time I think the opposite. The first three tunes don't exactly line up for me. "Into the Lungs of Hell" is a fine, anthemic instrumental, something more ambitious than the shorter intros like "Last Rites" or "Good Mourning", but it's a little too steady and never achieves the payoff it needs, certainly not in "Set the World Afire", a solid technical Megadeth track that once more that feels like a Peace Sells... outtake that can't quite compare. As for the Sex Pistols track, I think it does fit the band's attitude even more than those on the last two albums, but clearly this is a practice that had run its course. I realize "Anarchy in the U.K." was a limited hit, and they do slightly metalize it from the original, but not enough, and I was over this one by about the age of 16. Had it been tucked later onto the track list I might be more forgiving, but this is a skip almost every time I listen through the album the last couple decades.

That said, I REALLY like the rest of So Far, So Good...So What! "Mary Jane" and "In My Darkest Hour" are wildly successful attempts at building slower, more dramatic, accessible and melodic tracks without teetering into lame ballad territory, and they feel as poignant now in 2024 as they did in 1988, the former with plenty of the thrashing in the bridge you'd hope for, the latter having some amazing harmony hooks and perhaps the best Megadeth song to break out your lighter for. Pair these up with some superb speed metal licks on "502" and "Liar" and we're getting somewhere, but I have to talk about "Hook in Mouth", a personal favorite. I love how the crashing chords set up the bass lines and moody verses, and when it busts back into the thrash rhythm guitars around :45 I swear my puberty had achieved a new level. It's a strangely subdued track with a lot of pent-up energy, an an epic latter half where Dave's vocals just ring out under the sustained chords, a real gem with a great title that also manages to tie itself into the band's mascot.

The production on this is highly atmospheric, lots of reverb, guitars not always as bold as they were on Peace Sells..., and a lot more emotion being showcased through Dave's vocals. Perhaps natural as a response to the band's personal or lineup troubles, but it feels genuine and painful nonetheless. A few of the leads are awesome, others fail to land, but there's still a strong sense of musicianship, especially the two Daves, since the other roles felt temporary and mercenary even back then. What I take away from this is much the same as the debut...it's like a magnificent, chonky EP of material with a few extras tacked on that don't really flesh it out to a properly brilliant full-length, yet there's no question that this album also possesses its own sense of timelessness. The quirkiness and variation are interesting, and this isn't the last time a Megadeth album would take risks (ha ha), but in terms of sheer consistency or quality, records like South of Heaven, Eternal Nightmare, or The New Order send this one home on a stretcher. It had its charms...a good one to play for your girlfriend if you had one back then, and the better tracks hold up, but it can hardly shine the shoes of what would follow.

Verdict: Win [8/10] (every poem that ever was)

https://www.megadeth.com/

Helloween - Keeper of the Seven Keys Part II (1988)

Keeper of the Seven Keys Part II is the back book-end for a time in Helloween's career that was and will always remain unique, over just a couple albums and as many years. There's a shared, optimistic and appealing style to these, with just a hint of silliness that didn't really ever become too stupid or get in the way. This album was also the home for the Germans' biggest breakout hit, and some of the most melodic earworms they'd ever pen, but it also doesn't lack the sense of ambition you felt on the first half, which was a fairly enormous transition from Walls of Jericho. Not only the presence of Kiske on these albums, which has an entirely different effect than Kai's style, but just the way the tracks are written. The fiery, rough-edged power/speed metal of their early years might still INFORM some of the songwriting, but this is quite a different beast, and while we can toss out 'the next Iron Maiden' platitudes all we want, this band really only shares a few characteristics with the British legends: part of Kiske's timbre, sure, reminds one slightly of Bruce, and the way they use a lot of mellower parts where you can hear the bass, while guitars are focused entirely on melody rather than heavier chords...but otherwise, this was its own thing.

Now the first Keeper is my favorite Helloween album to this day, for me that was where the magic intersected with my metal nerdiness the most. If I get that one 100-CD binder to bring to the desert island, that one is going in first. But this is a superb set of tracks to follow that one up, let by the supreme melodic overtures "I Want Out", "Eagle Fly Free", "March of Time" and another track that isn't talked about so much, "You Always Walk Alone", nearly as worthy. These would imprint upon hordes of European power metal bands that would later build entire careers out of sounding like that or at least using that as their core. Glorious vocal choruses where he hits his upper range, but still loaded with dextrous and varied riffs that would be entertaining to listen to even if it was the guitars playing alone. Grosskopf is also quite amazing here, the guy has such a confident tone and even in the more neo-classical bits, which are woven legion into so many of these tunes, he's plugging away with a lot of prowess. Ingo's drums are powerful and he's incorporating a lot of that double-bass that, as I've mentioned, really helps define 'power metal' for me away from the NWOBHM where this wasn't the focus. As fluffy and flowery as this niche gets, that thunder down under assures it still gets taken seriously.

I even like the silly songs. "Dr. Stein" is really the only dive into the 'Halloween' territory but it's also a little self-referential and endearing, where "Rise and Fall" is also tongue in cheek but just insanely catchy with those Queen-like vocal harmonies that still don't sound like much else they've done since. Of the entire 50 minute track list, there isn't anything I dislike, but one of my faves is obviously the swollen follow-up to "Halloween", which would be the title track of the duology of albums. I'll be honest, I don't have a fucking clue what "Keeper of the Seven Keys" is really about beyond the rather stock fantasy good vs evil tropes and maybe applying them a little to all of mankind's existence, but this is the track that's grown on me the most, from its acoustics to the 'epic metal' moments that escalate into the faster parts, the pompous narrative parts, the nicely flowing and elaborate chorus with those choir-like keys in the background. I like all the little melodic callbacks to "Halloween" in there too. Excellent, ambitious track that you can get lost in...it might not match its predecessor for me but I really appreciate it.

In terms of the overall response and exposure created by this album, I'd definitely point to this one as 'Patient Zero' for the exhaustive European power metal movement first joined by bands like the spin-off Gamma Ray and then may more into the 21st century. No, they didn't create it per se, Priest and Maiden and Accept and a number of others had their stakes in that, and many of those even took on elements inspired by their own descendants later in their careers. But in terms of taking those parts and putting them together into a single entity, stitched from myriad influences' flesh, these guys were the first off the slab. Perhaps "Dr. Stein" itself was prophetic! Keeper of the Seven Keys Part II, just like the first half, is undeniable, its charms inescapable.

Verdict: Epic Win [9/10]

https://www.helloween.org/

Rage - Perfect Man (1988)

It's telling that even among the creative output that shaped and defined Rage on their earlier records, Perfect Man stands unique. For example, I could match up Reign of Fear and Execution Guaranteed, or Secrets in a Weird World and Reflections of a Shadow as aesthetic pairs, to a degree, but this third triumph is sort of its own thing, and has always remained as such. Not only does this album introduce the 'Soundchaser' mascot in a simple cover image that inspired I don't know how many apocalyptic steampunk dreams, but by contrast it also has this interesting working class metal vibe to it that sounds like a bunch of guys tired from their 9 to 5 at the steel mill meeting up for a few beers and then hitting the practice space at a nearby abandoned factory. It's also the introduction of Manni Schmidt and Chris Efthimiadis into the lineup with Peavy Wagner, and to think the trio could pull off an album this good, their first time out together, is nothing shy of shocking.

Largely gone here is the thrashing edge that we found on the first two albums, and Perfect Man exists in a kind of nexus between grimy traditional heavy metal, power and speed. The constant striving and success at pulling off memorable verse-chorus structures here reminds me a lot of the NWOBHM years, although Peavy has an arguably higher range than all but the legends out of that scene. He metes out a fairly even distribution of his melodic wailing, which always seems to be hitting his target and going just a little bit over the top, and then the more raucous mid-range heavy metal barking. When you combine this with the timbre that his natural German accent brings, it creates a distinctness to his voice that I just wasn't hearing from any other vocalist in these years, even his own esteemed countrymen like Rolf Kasparek, Chris Boltendahl or Udo Dirkschneider, all also possessed of unique styles (though Rolf and Chris operate in a similar wheelhouse). He goes a little Alice Cooper shock rock with some wicked laughs here or there, and honestly seems like a big goofball, but man is his performance on point for this album.

His bass playing, too...this album, more than any other in their canon, reeks of the 'Power Trio' tag, and that's because that straightforward blue collar feel of the production depends a lot on his low end pump supporting the very adventurous rhythm and lead guitars. He might not be a pioneer on the level of a Steve Harris, but he can play circles around most in his position, and the fact he's singing too, and always has been, puts him above the top. One of the top power metal bassists without question, and the clear and thick tone in the mix just rules. Doesn't hurt that Chris is such a great drummer too, with a forceful, fluid command of his kicks and fills that is the perfect fit to the generally faster pace of the material; and yet as good as all these aspects are, it's Manni who is arguably the highlight on this album. His riffs are loaded with all these moody, atmospheric and occasionally grimy sounding chords that were a brilliant matchup to the rhythm section, and then constantly finding ways to add just a little extra finesse or melody without ever taking it too far. The leads feel natural, bluesy in spots but just as adept as most you were hearing in hard rock or metal in the 80s, and I think it's easy to listen through this and feel like his presence is understated and singular throughout.

Twelve tunes. ALL of them excellent, a couple going beyond that to the level of transcendent for me. I'll never forget when I first heard "A Pilgrim's Path" on the local metal show at WJUL Lowell, it was my first exposure to Perfect Man although I'd heard some of the earlier tracks. I was completely absorbed at the time by the glinting acoustic intro which bursts into that mean riff and lead, and then the song has such an awesome flow to the verse vocals and epic, screaming chorus. I had to buy this album immediately, and have never looked back. "Don't Fear the Winter" is another with a similar melodic style, with amazing, driving guitars and drums, and that escalating scream into a chorus that you just cannot forget. Those are great entry points, but honestly there is nothing weak here, songs like "Round Trip", "Supersonic Hydromatic" and "Between the Lines" bring the awesome screaming lines, and there is not a single riff, bass line or drum beat over the entire 44 minutes that I would ever displace, because it's all fucking genius. And that's a pretty compact length for twelve tunes. The CD bonus tracks are also a nice addition even if they're not quite as good as the material that ended up on the album proper; "Neurotic" is a little TOO silly, but at least the music burns with some great ideas.

Even the lyrics to this album are fairly elaborate, musings about daily life and human progress and mostly fit into the consciousness of the 80s, though many of its concerns persist. It's another of the qualities that gave me that impression above of the worker, the everyman, trying to get by in the face of mass social and technological change. I almost find it hard to go on describing Perfect Man, I'd just rather play it for you so you can hear what I love about it so much. I find these sorts of reviews the hardest to write, because I can't ever do it enough justice. I can't ever give this album back what it's given to me. We all need a hill to die on, and this is easily one of mine. Its my favorite Rage album, and one of my favorite Noise Records releases in general, which is saying a lot if you're familiar with the godlike pantheon of bands that once called that label home. Along with records like Keeper of the Seven Keys Part II and Running Wild's Port Royal (another masterpiece I need to cover one day, and not the pirates' only one), Perfect Man hinted at the broad and diverse platform that power metal could one day become. Whether it succeeded on that front, or occasionally failed us with its tackier stereotypes, we can debate another time, but in 1988 this shit was ON.

Verdict: Epic Win [10/10]

http://www.rage-official.com/

Vio-Lence - Eternal Nightmare (1988)

Eternal Nightmare is one of a rare breed of classic thrash albums which managed to remain super focused, concise, and energetic throughout its entire playtime, partly because that length itself was used as a boon. Reign in Blood would be the prime example of the form, and rightly so, but here Vio-lence offers less, and longer tracks. There is no fluff, no excessive padding here, no attempts to dramatically shake the listener's mood back and forth throughout, and its brevity was always a virtue on car rides, daily jogs with my Walkman, or executing the types of whacks hinted at through some of the lyrics. I'm kidding on that last one. Well, I assume I'm kidding, it might have been true for some person or persons out there, but the point still stands...there is a hell of a lot of awesome packed into this 35 minutes, more so than most albums in this genre 15-25 minutes longer, and it was truly impressive for a debut album, so it's no wonder it drew the attraction of MCA/Mechanic right out of the starting gates.

Speaking of 'starting gates', the opening to the titular "Eternal Nightmare" might just win the award for metal tune which most puts me in the mindset that I'm about to participate in a bull fight, or to stroll out into some gladiatorial match, the sun just starting to rise above the upper levels of some colosseum onto the jeering crowds, and the sands beneath. It's only about 30 seconds until the faster licks arrive, but just with those opening, clashing chords and the belligerent melody that rides in on them, you know you're in for a massive melee, and that the band is already living up to its moniker. Then the frenzied winds whip up the dust, and it hits that :42 second mark riff and HOLY FUCK. It's as if equal parts testosterone and kerosene have been translated into pure audio form, the envy of six trillion pizza-thrashers 20-25 years later that would try to emulate this along with their favorites from Exodus, Suicidal Tendencies, Forbidden, Nuclear Assault and D.R.I....failing miserably. Because when I was a teenager myself, still rusty with the six strings, Eternal Nightmare is the exact sort of album I'd sit around trying to pattern out with the limited education I had on that instrument. The very essence of thrash's evolution from its punk and trad metal roots into something distinctly more keen edged and abusive. A whirling, whipping cloud of razors that haven't gathered any rust even as I sit listening so many years after its introduction.

The album places its mid-paced or 'breakdown' sections perfectly, like around 2:20 in "Calling in the Coroner", Sean Killian spouting out his post-vehicular-homicidal narratives over a total moshing of a riff. You want to jerk your neck around so much to parts like this that you'd end up on the back of the ambulance with the other remains. The brighter, more melodic picking progressions sprawled across the album in places like the intro to "Phobophobia" were always fresh and memorable, well in line with the better material from their Bay Area peers but recognizable to Vio-lence alone. There's also not a lot of dissonance over this album, it's all bright and sharp and bloody. Atmosphere is delegated more to the combative nature of the riffing and the imagery manifest through the lyrical themes of murder, injustice and mental instability. Killian's voice, which has long been the band's most divisive factor, took a higher pitched, malicious and manic approach that you'd rarely have heard outside of Bobby Blitz. He'd often raise the pitch, over and over, through individual verse lines, like a preacher in heat to his sermon. Somewhat nasal delivery, but unlike say a Joey Belladonna, there was a lot more aggression and unrest packed into it. An 'I'm on the edge of flipping my shit' aesthetic. When you contrast that style against the gang shouts or the meatier rhythm guitars, it definitely stands out, so I'm firmly planted in the camp that enjoys him.

The rhythm section here is also incredibly impactful, with kinetic and pumping drums, plenty of fills to clutter up the performance so that it teeters on the verge of the more extreme styles being put forth by several of his Californian peers. Bass lines do largely conform to the rhythm notes a lot but at least the tone is strong and not subdued, capable of striking off on its own when there is less business on the strings above it. There are some blistering guitar lines in tunes like "T.D.S. (Take It As You Will)" which wouldn't have been out of place on an emergent death/thrash record, and the leads across the album are uniformly wild and explosive, throttled off into abandon. Even if not entirely memorable or technically impressive, this is arguably the best way to write them...or NOT write them. Just let those man-chemicals well on up from the vital organs and drip out through the fingers and joints to the frets. Production is honed, metallic, and suits the band's energy level perfectly, giving all the guitars and vocals just that much more of an edge...a danger that simply isn't inherent to a lot of the watered down disciples of this style that would arrive later on. This album is a killer through and through, there might be 2-3 riffs throughout that sink it just a fraction below perfection, but it is thrashing royalty nonetheless, mandatory for both 80s enthusiasts and anyone else who values the idea of a fire lit under their ass when listening to metal, the feel of shit about to throw down.

Verdict: Epic Win [9.75/10] (Now to you I come a calling)

Holosade - Hell House (1988)

Another casualty of the saturation of thrash metal throughout the later 80s, England's Holosade managed to slip past the radars of many listeners without doing anything particularly wrong. Hell House is an attractive package with its creepy cover manor that hints at a brand of horror metal that I always appreciated during those times, and even if I haven't got a whiff of a fucking clue what the band's name meant, it was actually pretty cool. The UK was hardly a hotbed for thrash like it had been for the genres that were influential to that medium, only a few stronger bands like Xentrix and Onslaught, and the once-godly Sabbat were in regular rotation for me. Yet there was always some faint hope of a further savior that might waltz in and do Megadeth, Anthrax or Slayer numbers, blowing up that scene, which never manifest, certainly not in Holosade or other unknowns like Arbitrarer and Deathwish.

Now I had hinted that this outfit hadn't made any major missteps with this debut, and I think the real issues were just its presence on a nearly invisible record label, and the fact that it comes across like an also-ran when compared to a lot of bands that used its formula to craft more exciting, memorable songs. At it's most thrashing and biting, the guitar tone reminds me a lot of a brasher alternate to what Anthrax were putting out around this time, and a similar comparison can be made to the inflection on some of the vocals, which aren't a far cry from Joey Belladonna even though the range sounds more like a punkish crossover and not so melodic and reedy. There were a few individual lyric lines and riffs which also recalled old Death Angel, and a substrate of crude speed metal which reminds me of the rougher production on some of the early Exciter albums. The vocals do have a bit of an unevenness to them, even from track to track. That's not to say they lack personality...only it's just not a sort of charisma that resonates long after the record is over, even when there are shouts to back it up and drive it home harder. At worst they feel slightly sloppy, but not unintentionally.

I do like the rhythm tone, something not a lot of bands would try getting away with today unless they were striving for the low-fi retro aesthetic, but bright and nasty all the same and wouldn't be out of place on a punk record from the same time period. Bass lines are exceedingly simple and do little else but climb around the primary riffs, and not very far, but at least you can make it out and it keeps a steady headbanging pace circa classic Priest. The drums are vibrant and fit just right against the rawness of the guitars, and there's a lot of double bass energy driving the snares and the blunt force of the songs as a whole, with fills flying off everywhere that are occasionally even a too loud and cluttered for the mix. Leads and melodies are spurious and scattered appropriately throughout the play length, but this was probably one of the record's biggest failings since none of them even border on evoking anything emotional or catchy, so they feel like an obligation more than a carefully constructed component to the songwriting, a mediocre pizza topping with just enough added savory flavor to feel as if it belongs.

Though the lyrics in cuts like "Welcome to the Hell House" and "Madame Guillotine" are solid enough to convey the band's appreciation for horror and dark history, another downside to Hell House is that it just never feels scary or evil. It's more like a mixture of enthusiastic Bay Area and New York thrash reduced to a series of unambitious riffing passages and chord progressions that hardly even come off cruel or vicious by 1988 standards, and since they lack a lot of the inherent musicality of their betters. If you just took "Alison Hell" alone off the Annihilator debut, it has more quality guitar work and faux-creepy vibes to it than this entire album. The only atmosphere provided is just through the production alone, and so it's one of those records that really only comes up when you're digging into the deep, dark corners of the niche and want something tonally genuine to that period. It's not a bad album at all if you just want to crank some raucous 80s testosterone through your speakers, and a few tunes like "Nightmare Reality" storm harder than the rest, but you were simply not short of options in those days, and you definitely aren't now...so it kind of just wanders through its own hellish gates and disappears before you know it.

Verdict: Indifference [6/10] (it's not an illusion)

Light Force - Mystical Thieves (1988)

I hadn't listened to Mystical Thieves in approximately 25 years, since I discovered the cassette haunting a discount bin at a record store at the local mall, and thought the cover artwork was cool enough to take it home for a few bucks. Pure Metal Records had a bit of a reputation as a Christian metal label, sure, but at the time I was around 15-16 and religiously independent (having walked out on confirmation at my parents' church), I was never one to really hold this as a sole reason to avoid a band. In fact, I had a number of pretty decent Christian thrash and heavy metal tapes in my stash, with names like Vengeance Rising, Deliverance, and so forth, and for all external purposes the Light Force sophomore seemed like it might join them...

...which, of course, was wishful thinking, because Mystical Thieves sucks. The few among you who might even be aware of this band probably recognize it as Australian Steve Rowe's previous band before he launched Mortification, a heavier thrash/death metal outfit which has gone on to produce a rather long and prolific career which even had some material licensed to labels like Nuclear Blast. I am not a big fan of that band, never have been... a few of the earlier CDs like Scrolls of the Megilloth had some potential there, but although the lyrics were fairly Christian all along, the band seemed to dumb itself down on subsequent releases through the 90s. Love them or hate them, though, this man soldiers on; irregardless of what the extreme metal audience thinks, there is no question he is pretty serious and unshakeable in his commitment to both his faith and his bog standard death metal. All the power to him, or Power to him...you get the point. But speaking of 'power', Light Force is considered one of those earlier examples of power metal which was difficult to distinguish from the later phase NWOBHM of the time...certainly it has little of the fire and fury of the USPM in the 80s, or little fire and fury AT ALL.

Rowe was the bassist here, and he's perhaps the album's most overt culprit of Steve Harris' playing in Iron Maiden, with loads of pluggy, driving triplets that combine with the melodic guitar harmonies to produce an atmosphere highly redolent of things like Number of the Beast, Powerslave, Piece of Mind and Somewhere in Time; whether trudging along or erupting in an anthem speed much like they do in the album's titular opener. The problem here is that the riffs are just so bloody uninspired, that even as a teen I found them mind numbingly boring and predictable in an era that was producing works like Thundersteel, Master Control, No Exit or even Seventh Son of a Seventh Son, which is more or less everything some of these songs attempt, but exponentially superior. The beginnings, middles and ends of these cuts are quite uninspiring while a little TOO inspired, and there are lots of choices that don't really make much sense, seemingly amateur like when Rowe starts frenzying on the bass at the end of the opening cut, only to have it all just...whisked away.

Even worse, the singer here is just so painfully average that it feels as if he's extremely hung-over and just trying to make anything stick. Not the worst intonation I've heard, but he hangs out too much in that upper mid-range, sounding sloshed and entirely incapable of tackling a proper chorus. Hell, if you're going to be doing a Maiden-ish thing, wouldn't you want a singer who can dominate the material with some range and power? There are particular tracks where he gets more potent to the degree that it doesn't come off offensively lazy, but generally these are also tunes where the rhythm guitars  also come together in a more powerful, if not any more memorable combination like in "Crossfire" or the more forceful, speed-metal approach of "City Streets", which is a style I wish they would have adopted on far more of the album, since it shows a meaner edge and kind of abandons the aimless airiness of the title track. But then, there is very little consistency on the record for which they could capitalize on such momentum..."Metal Missionaries" feels like so much tired mid paced Judas Priest worship, while "Searching" had a few insipid callbacks to Sabbath stuff.

If the music is weak, the production is weaker, with Rowe's bass level set just about the same as the rhythm guitar, stealing some of its bite without supplementing enough low end thunder. It all feels thin and wimpy, and the drums sound like they're being played half the time by banging on tin cans and bicycle chains. Very little force or muscle. Perhaps the only part of the music that felt slightly invigorating were when the leads broke out over some of the rhythms in the bridges, they definitely have that feel of wild abandon so precious to traditional 80s speed, heavy and power metal, but it's such a chore to get around to them that who even cares? In the end, Mystical Thieves is just dull and third rate Australian metal with nothing going for it when you could just put on the Hobbs' Angel of Death and hear how it really needed to be done. Rowe would move on to bigger and better things, because Mortification was certainly a step up from this, but the Light Force sophomore seems in retrospect just a waste of decent artwork with an evocative 70s/80s Michael Whelan feel.

Verdict: Fail [3.5/10] (No, no, no mind control, it's a Satanic craze!)

Samael - Medieval Prophecy EP (1988)

Now this is a tough one, because on the one hand, Medieval Prophecy is the nastiest shit Samael has ever recorded. On the other, the 'shit' unfortunately extends to its production and songwriting values; not that these particular tunes don't lend themselves pretty well to their respective re-recordings (on the debut album), but here in this most primal of forms they are nothing more than a glorified demo which sounds like arse, with just two original tunes and one more that represents their chief influence and countrymen (Hellhammer), but is performed with such primacy that you don't feel all that different than when listening to Tom G. Warrior and crew demo it...

I'm sure there is a stingy minority out there which feels as if this EP is the greatest thing the Swiss have ever recorded, but I'm inclined to disagree based on the fact that the drums sound like shit, the guitars aren't much better, and the only real standout is in hearing Vorphalack spit out the gnarliest conventional black metal rasps of his entire career. As an example of uncompromising, atavistic black metal, Medieval Prophecy has very few peers...Bathory and Deathcrush, but both of those actually exceeded this then-duo's compositional ability by leagues, and where the crude mix might have worked wonders for the Mayhem EP, it actually cripples Samael completely. The chord patterns are already so simplistic and uninvolved that making them sound like two 12 year olds down the block recorded them in one of their dad's sheds just reeks too highly of amateur hour. Yeah, yeah, it's so misanthropic and rebellious and REAL, man...but ultimately just too impetuous and raunchy.

The style here was more or less a prehistoric concoction of black and doom metal with more than a passing nod to Hellhammer/Celtic Frost, only with any of that group's eclectic nature stripped to a primordial, sickening occult core. Chord, rasp, chord, rasp, into damnation. The Satanic, zealous lyrics (of "Into the Pentagram") seem several orders of magnitude more advanced than the musical ability, but that's not saying a whole lot. Riffs have hooks in them, but only the sort that slowly and gradually creep upon you, thanks to how drawn out the first cut feels. It's atmospheric mainly to the extent of its rawness, and how it takes its sweet time getting anywhere, but also there are superficial flourishes due to the cleaner, affected guitars wound through "The Dark". In both cases, I have an infinite preference for the more polished renditions on Worship Him, not only because are given more room to breathe in the less suffocated non-mix, but also because I rather think Vorph has a more distinct and unusual vocal bark there. Medieval Prophecy is sort of charming, at times, but I'm not surprised that the band themselves would take the necessary steps towards professionalism.

Of course, having the original of this 7" provides bragging rights for those concerned with their early bird status in the black metal audience; there's an inherent, collectible nature to the EP, with the black and white artwork on both the original and (superior on the) second pressing, and such releases will always maintain a following who treasure them, but in terms of pure enjoyment, I find this somewhat lacking. It's evil as fuck, sure, but I'd say that was largely by the mistake of the recording sounding so swollen and uneven and not something Vorph and Xytras had really mapped out in advance. Still, you wanna hear a band travel a long way, it's interesting to compare this to their later, industrial infused, life affirming lyrical content. Some will favor the humble roots, but I was always a bigger fan of the band the further they got from Earth...well, not TOO far from Earth, but drifting in close proximity. Hint, hint.

Verdict: Indifference [5.5/10] (paralysed by the anguish of a new day)

http://www.samael.info/Above/index.html

Aggressa - Nuclear Death EP + (1988)

Australian metal in the 80s is somewhat of a gray area for me, being familiar only with some of the most popular acts, and even then, my knowledge of anything before the extreme metal down under outbreak of the 90s is hazy at best. So hearing Aggressa's Nuclear Death EP after about 25 years of blissful ignorance should have been something of a celebration, with a bottle of expensive whiskey and an evening of banging my fat head into unconsciousness. Instead, it wound up rating only one cold beer at best, and a cheap one at that. Decidedly average and dirty heavy/speed metal with a pretty bland riffing selection, the only true strength ironically being the lack of polished production to the rhythm guitars, and the more aggressive barking of the vocalist (in particular on "Voo Doo Doll" where it reaches a wretched rasp along to the more thrashing/speed riffs), which often hints that the band was headed in a more extreme direction, but the music hadn't exactly caught up.

The darker Aggressa gets, the better the results, but unfortunately the verse riffs to cuts like "Break Down the Walls" or "Torture and Pain" feel like your standard British fare circa Priest, Venom and Motörhead had already mastered well before this. Mid-paced stuff with some lighter palm muted picking that will then erupt into a more punkish chord anthem, but I can't say there was a single series of notes here that in any way surprised me or had me drooling to listen further. The leads are frivolous, noisy middle fingers that arrive unceremoniously where you'd expect them. There's a particular charm to the lewd and churning tone with its primitive distortion levels, and the singer's angry enough to pull off his own charisma, coming off with a bit of punk/crossover/splatter vibe. But you're just not getting the sort of memorable chorus patterns you'd expect from this period. Kind of a bar band atmosphere being created; sure, you'd look up from the bottom of your cup/misery, and perhaps even throw the blokes the horns, but it's not about to replace Kill 'Em All or Sign of the Hammer in your stereo, or even make it onto your stereo. The drums are ratty and crashy sounding, the bass lines rarely interesting even when bouncing along on their own (the intro to the "Phantom Stage Diver"), and both contribute to this sort of 'diamond in the rough, OF the rough' mentality popular in today's underground, where people are constantly trying to unearth more underground materials like this.

It's a bit meaner sounding than the average commercial/trending radio metal of the day, and has more in common with Canadian groups like Exciter or Piledriver musically than Quiet Riot or the Scorpions, but most of the guitars still seem pretty familiar even for '88. I also have to say, even if the bonus demo versions included with the Nuclear Death EP are even filthier and cruder in production, they benefit from a more vivacious, DIY atmosphere to the extent that I preferred them. "Religious Bloodshed", which is likely the most entertaining and smile-inducing tune on the release, with some whacky higher pitched vocals breaking out in the chorus and easily the best guitar riffs, also wasn't part of the EP, so I'm glad they threw that on here as a bonus. Ultimately, though, too many of the tracks suffered from stale riffing. There's certainly a core audience of rare metal connoisseurs and rabid Metalucifer/Abigail fanatics who will eat this shit alive, but aside from its attitude and obscurity, this just wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed musically, which might be why I'd never heard of it. I warmed up a few times to the rawness of the spectacle, but the songs themselves just didn't hook me.

Verdict: Indifference [5.5/10] 

Bolt Thrower - In Battle There is No Law! (1988)

It would be almost impossible for me to think of Bolt Thrower's debut without also considering British extremity as a whole, or the process of how metal's evolution was devoured and regurgitated back and forth across the Atlantic Ocean, growing darker and heavier with each wave of new acts to don the genre and render it further inaccessible from its 70s roots. In Battle There is no Law! was one of a trinity of influential English albums to take on the emergent death metal medium, but it had some clear differences from its contemporaries Reek of Putrefaction and Scum! For one, where Carcass and Napalm Death were verily heavily expounding upon a punk and hardcore foundation, Coventry's carnal crusaders were more or less skipping that step and composing riffs that functioned off a thrash base. All three have been associated with the origin of 'grindcore', but rather than get into a tired semantic debate, I'll just state that In Battle... is easily the least imbued with that style's characteristics. The lyrical inspiration was also something else: rather than rallies against a corporate Earth, or medical grotesqueries privately intended to curb carnivores from their diet of flesh, Bolt Thrower, named for a weapon in Games Workshop's popular Warhammer 40K setting, had a fairly unhealthy obsession with, you guessed it, warfare. One that they've never shaken in over 25 years of existence.

Unlike its follow-up, Realm of Chaos, this debut doesn't necessarily delve into the the universe of that war gaming milieu, but focuses more on historical violence and the theoretical aftermath of civilization's plummet post-nuclear armageddon. And this is important, because it helps define what exactly made the band so standout and special to begin with: the atmosphere. In Battle There is No Law! is not the most righteously riffy of creations, granted, but it hits you on numerous visceral levels. For one, the tuning and timbre of the guitars is entirely oppressive and downtrodden, from the base thrash chugging structure to the roiling and fleshy grooves, Bolt Thrower simply did not sound like its US peers and death metal progenitors Death, Obituary, and Autopsy. The Brits were peddling more of a condensed flood of atrocity, and the debut never really lets up across its 30 minute play-length. Rather than creating eerie tremolo lines in their songs, they simply bashed the listener over the head with alternations of tank-tread grooves and accelerated processions of chords that almost seemed like a relentless upgrade to the speed/thrash metal sect (I hear a tint of Sodom or Hellhammer, certainly). Add to that the exertions of shredding solo here, either tapped or just wailing away on random strings of notes, and you get a pretty interesting contrast that only adds to the overall atmosphere, thanks to the unapologetic level of effects applied to the lead tone. Truthfully, there were probably only a half-dozen 'memorable' riffs on the whole of this disc, but this is so fucking heavy that it thrives off its nihilistic production regardless. Not a lot of other shit in 1988 can claim to have been this intense...

Whale's drums here incorporated scads of double-bass rhythms from the get-go, and this is likely the album's most prominent influence on the decades of death and grind since, not to mention the proto-blasting involved in tracks like "Challenge for Power" and "Concession of Pain". I've read comments about how the playing on this and the sophomore were 'sloppy', and perhaps that really is the case, but I think it's only amplified by the sheer volume of his beats, which sound like a few score mortars being fired off in conjunction. Transitions often feel a little random or misplaced through the tracks, but that doesn't do the music a disservice per se, only adds a bit of youthful chaos. Though the bass guitar itself is not the loudest ingredient, In Battle... as a whole definitely leaves a depth charge concussion on the soul and skull, and Jo Bench definitely laid out a proper, voluptuous low end which creeps beneath the meat of the rhythm guitar like carrion crawlers coming out to feast on the mounds of war-dead. Karl's vocals here are actually at their highest pitch through the band's career, one of the biggest dividers between this and the later Bolt Thrower albums. He's not got that same, brute guttural, but more of a bloody, bluntness that he intersperses with growls (closest comparison would be some of Chris Reifert's tormented mania). Certainly more of Karl's accent shines through than you'd expect. In a way, this is one of his more interesting and diversified performances, but I can see why some might have preferred the grimmer, streamline approach he'd take on later.

I have read other opinions of how In Battle There is No Law! is some sort of anomalous work in the band's catalog, and how it's aesthetically disparate from its successors, but I must disagree. Just about every aspect of the record forms a perfectly natural staging for Realm of Chaos, only there the band decided to go for an even bleaker sense of atmosphere, honing in for higher quality, drudging riffs and using the Games Workshop fiction as a direct lyrical source. It's arguably busier than most of the more condensed riff cycles they'd adorn later, but not hugely complex in structure. Overall, though, I'd say this immediately establishes the band's identity, the sophomore simply solidifies it. Unfortunately, Realm of Chaos does such an amazing job of manifesting its otherworldly, oppressive imagery into unforgettable songs, that given a choice, I'll seek that out for my Bolt Thrower fix 10 out of 10 times over this. That's hands down one of my favorite death metal recordings ever, despite In Battle There is No Law! being my first exposure. But I don't wanna sell this short, because it was quite impressive for its day, far more structured and compelling than Scum!, From Enslavement to Oblivion, or Reek of Putrefaction, and the punkish cover art and original 'logo' are both pretty iconic, even despite my preferences for Space Marines. Often more brash than brutal, but a gem all the same, and well worth hunting down if just to experience one of the death metal's formative sounds.

Verdict: Win [8.25/10]

http://www.boltthrower.com/

Voivod - Dimension Hatröss (1988)

Have you ever experienced a symphony live, stood back and soaked in all its various, congruent instrumentation? Puzzled at how a single human being could have coordinated all the various threads and sections into one cohesive movement? Marveled at what a mind, or collective of minds, this would require? Well, Voivod's fourth full-length Dimension Hatröss offers much the same sense of wonderment, only its orchestra pit has been rendered down to a quartet of Canadians, gradually evolving out of the raucous post-apocalyptic punk/speed metal of their youths into something I don't think anyone could have predicted. This is not a mere album, but a coherent science fiction journey expressed through some of the most creative thrash metal of the 80s.

Personally, I find the band's three successive albums in that 1987-1989 period to each be spotless in its own right, but if prompted to choose just one as an introduction to the band's genius, Dimension Hatröss would be that defining experience. Not only for the unforgettable music itself, but for the amazingly prescient Outer Limits-like concept fueling its central narrative. It's basically an extraterrestrial Fantastic Voyage-noir, in which the band's mascot creature, the 'voivod' uses ridiculous Goldberg science to spawn a microcosm of galaxies, and then use its own twisted technology to step in and explore them, reveling at the various alien cultures within these shattered atoms. Like all great science fiction, though, the numerous social and political situations the voivod encounters within this debatable space reek of tyranny, chaos, oppression, and class warfare, all reek true of our own civilization through history, and thus as foreign and otherworldly Dimension Hatröss may seem on its surface, it's really one giant, timeless metaphor the listener can bet will retain its relevance for the rest of his/her natural lifespan on Earth.

Each component of the album's production and visualization is the perfect catalyst to shape its story. The cover art, drafted beautifully by drummer/writer Away, is one of the most striking and iconic images of the band's career, more colorful than his artwork for the first three records. A frightening, freakish biomechanical aberration stands against some radiating nucleus, crowned by the band's blood red logo. The sort of album cover that I stare at decades later and still find attractively disturbing. The lyrics are scrawled in patterns that create a first-person stream of consciousness of the imagery the 'narrator' has experienced, very brief lines and refrains that relay all manner of key phrases as the voivod journeys on into the madness of this genesis. Much like a captain's log, or a scientist's rambled test recordings; even the narrator itself seems difficult to trust due to its 'voice', but at the same time, the lyrics remain strangely accessible, more 'street talk' than arbitrary technobabble. A wise choice, as the band didn't wish to confuse an audience that was adjusted more to the messages of Anthrax, Possessed, Slayer and Metallica.

One would suspect that the Canadians might drown such a 'space oddity' of a record in loads of effects and excess futurescapes like synthesizers, but once again Dimension Hatröss trumps expectations with a very grounded, sincere production. There are occasionally some processing effects on Piggy's riffing experiments, some fuzz to the bass, and reverb to the vocals and drums, but otherwise this is completely down to Earth progressive thrash metal which you might be experiencing in a rehearsal room. Don't get me wrong, this was professional and polished enough to run with the bigger guns like ...And Justice for All or South of Heaven, but it's remarkably workmanlike, and Voivod sought only to deliver their alien experience through the lyrics and composure of the music itself. Everything is clearly defined and audible, from the grooves to the vocals to the dissonant slices of atmosphere D'Amour splashes upon its obscure universe.

It's not an easy sound to pinpoint, but to best describe the music would be like taking Killing Technology's brash, grimy hyperspace acceleration thrash as a base. Then stir in the percussive, tempo twining hysterics of progressive rock titans like Rush and Yes, swirl in some psychedelic Pink Floyd ambiance and abandon, and season liberally with fusion rock or the voluptuous, eclectic space-funk of artists like Herbie Hancock. Plenty of pure, post-industrial thrash riffs abound through the eight tracks, but they're sauteed in all manner of strange architecture thanks to Piggy's inventive chords. Through the 90s and beyond, a lot of sludge, math core, industrial black and technical death outfits would implement a similar field of streaming minors and abstract note configurations, and a lot of 'core kids and metal nerds were reared on them. But who was the first extreme metal angler casting for dust on the moon, fuckers? Denis motherfucking D'Amour. The leads are whacky, trippy and sparsely wrought through the experience, but each perfectly placed. I also love that the rhythmic choices in each of the songs seem to reflect the culture being explored, but they maintain an aesthetic cohesion throughout the 40 minutes.

Away proves himself an extraterrestrial Neal Peart here, eagerly matching the dynamic eccentricities of the bass and rhythm guitar with swaths of double bass, thundering fills and ample athleticism. Bassist Blacky stands out more here than on Killing Technology, a grooving dimensional rift-beast that anchors the spectral, slumming atmospheres of a "Chaosmongers" or "Brain Scan" with the psychotic communique of its bridge; but also fluid and distinctive in the faster lanes. To this we add Snake's unique punk inflection, somewhere between Bob Dylan and Johnny Rotten if they were spending a night at the local rehab, flushing the chemical adversary from their systems. His voice might run on the nasal side, but it's quite effective at piercing the nebular haze of the galaxies being explore, you can just hear it ringing out on the edge of some black hole, shouting out to you: 'Hey, I'm over here!' Everything instrument and vocal passage is bound together into a lattice of brilliant, ever mutating rhythmics and alien introspection.

There was not a goddamn record out there in the 80s that sounded nearly as stoned on xeno-substances, and every moment from the turbulent intro of "Experiment" to the hammering, jamming sendoff to "Cosmic Drama" has had me hooked for almost 25 years now with no signs of letting up. I'll except the bonus track, a dystopian street surfing spin on the old Neal Hefti television Batman theme, which is obviously not so ambitious or serious as anything else here, but this wasn't available on my original cassette, so it never mattered much to be as anything more than a quirky addition when I upgraded to the CD. Still, the fact that they would even perform such a piece infuses positive karma to the Canadians' inner geek; I once tracked a psychedelic, surfable metal cover of the theme from the moody 60s animated Spider-Man theme for fun, replacing the vocal lines with spacey leads, totally inspired by Voivod.

Of course, there's always been a Flat Earth Contingent among thrash/speed metal fans who never enjoyed this album, never 'got it', or never really cared to try, since it wasn't a rehash of Kill 'Em All, Show No Mercy or Seven Churches (hypocritical, perhaps, since those albums themselves were innovations). People don't want their air space threatened. Many will change the channel when they see Star Trek original series reruns, and hell, some folks just don't want the Twilight Zone impeding into their mosh pit. Much like Killing Technology before it, Dimension Hatröss was just too 'out there', the story of the Canadians' career, and the uphill battle that they've always fought, even when writing more accessibly works like the followups Nothingface and Angel Rat. To these I offer a beer, a cheer, conversation, condolences, and then I'm on my merry way, because I was just bred for an album like this. It's surely a top 20 metal album (all time) for me, and possibly my single favorite Canadian metal effort. Where imagination, vision and musical talent collide and tear asunder the fabric of possibility of something new. Frightening. Inspired. Immortal. Get connected.

Verdict: Epic Win [10/10] (loud echoes of the end)

http://www.voivod.net/

Testament - The New Order (1988)

If this were a just world, or perhaps a 'juster' world, The New Order would have vaulted Testament into the ranks of thrash royalty, as it easily edged out a few of the formative 1988 works by higher profile acts like Anthrax (State of Euphoria) and Megadeth (So Far, So Good... So What!), who ending up making wider ripples in the pool. Of course, that's not the universe we actually live in; bands and albums even BETTER than this one sat in complete obscurity the same year, but the point remains that this was a damn fine sophomore which capitalized fully on the momentum mustered upon The Legacy, continuing to expand and define the band's sound to an eager audience with enough allowance left over after buying the latest Ozzy and Metallica tapes and tees.

Albeit mild, there is in fact some progression to The New Order. For one, the songs seem a little 'friendlier' than the debut. I'm not saying they were flat-out accessible and likely to gain the band much airplay, but the slightly cleaner mix to the rhythm guitars was evident, and the choruses were simply catchier in terms of their melodic content. Testament had embraced, rather than backed away from the fact that it had a new guitar hero in its ranks, and thus Skolnick's leads are more pronounced and fluid than on The Legacy, with a more consistent use of arpeggios and other melodies that showcased their confidence in his ability. Otherwise, I'm not sure they would have gotten the green light for not one, but two fully instrumental pieces, the spectral and atmospheric "Hypnosis" interlude and the gentler, neoclassical exercises of the 4 minute finale "Musical Death (A Dirge)". The inclusion of the Aerosmith cover ("Nobody's Fault") also made it seem as if the band were throwing a bone to the less aggressive-minded audience; it's a hard and fun take on the original with a nice bite to the guitars, but you could envision that it might make the MTV request shows more than, say, "Eerie Inhabitants". And they did, in fact, shoot a rather lame video for it with the band fucking around in between shots of them performing.

But the gist of the album is pure, unbridled excellence, with a number of songs just as memorable as anything off The Legacy. "Into the Pit" and "Disciples of the Watch" have long been set staples for good reason, as they're both blood stirring pieces, the former succeeded by its title alone to whip any mosh pit into a frenzy, and the latter possessive of one of their better singalong chorus progressions. A lot of the songs ("Eerie Inhabitants", "Disciples of the Watch", "Trial by Fire", etc) build great atmospheres through clean intros and supernatural leads before exploding into their surges of Metallica-fueled rage. The compositions continue to exude that same sense of foreboding as one found on the debut, even if the rhythm guitars are not quite so crushing. Like the cover warns, The New Order leaves me with the impression that I'm living in a fucked world with little hope for salvation, choked out by corruption, pollution, zealotry, globalization, and dogmatic obsession, and these subjects and more are tackled directly through the lyrics.

While it doesn't hit the same polished stride as its own successor, Practice What You Preach, The New Order certainly seems tidier than the first album. The rhythm guitars possess a similar, processed punch while chugging, but they're less muddled. The leads gleam far more, and the clean guitars are also better integrated, which is necessary, since there are more of them. In addition to Skolnick stepping up his game, you also get a larger amount of bass alongside the rhythm tracks, so Greg Christian stands out more. The same goes for Clemente, whose kick drum seems more distinct thanks to the more melodic nature of the writing. Chuck Billy does admittedly sound less raucous and frenzied than on the debut, but he compensates with a stronger range and a lot of tight and memorable lines. Rather than just Xerox riffs from the debut, they also seem to attempt a wider range of variation as they use to set up "The Preacher" or the exotic, far Eastern foundation to the melodies of opener "Eerie Inhabitants".

Though I still listen to The New Order frequently enough, there are a few minor flaws in that the production sounds dated so many years later (like The Legacy); the digitized, effect heavy sound they originally aimed for felt futuristic for its day, but not any more. Not one of Alex Perialas' best, though it was cool to see Raven's Rob 'Wacko' had a hand in this. Also, with the exception of the churning intro riff, I'm not a huge fan of the track "A Day of Reckoning", as the verse riffing seems redundant with ideas they had in other tunes. However, these are about the only limitations to my enjoyment of what is otherwise one of the band's best works. With the exception of the Aerosmith cover, the vision here is incredibly unified, in both vocal and instrumental tunes, and The New Order helped substantiate these Oakland raiders into a potential usurper for the frontrunners in the field. That might not have completely panned out for them in the end, but the fact is that Testament remains after all these years, with a deep well of inspiring material for fans to draw upon, and this sophomore was a willing, quality contributor to that legacy.

Verdict: Epic Win [9/10] (shadows cast loud and clear)

http://www.testamentlegions.com/

Razor - Violent Restitution (1988)

Violent Restitution is the thrash metal equivalent of being manacled to a batting cage and having each member of the Bad New Bears roster beat you in the ribs, liver, balls, and upside the skull a few times in succession; then to smirk and spit in your eye as they hand off the sporty bludgeon to their next teammate. It's just THAT fucking entertaining and abusive, and in my opinion, one of the most fun, frenetic and simply intense efforts of its kind in existence; certainly one of the most incendiary and memorable speed/thrash records of the 80s outside of Germany or California. I've gotten so much enjoyment from this album in the past quarter century, that despite having purchased the LP, cassette and CD versions, I feel like I owe Dave Carlo at least another $100 dollars and a six-pack.

You know the old saying 'they don't make 'em like they used to'? Well, this is the living, serrated proof of that statement's validity. Even though I'm annually inundated with countless, excellent examples of blackened thrash, death/thrash or hyperactive paeans to the 80s, many of which manage to successfully ape the visceral excitement of a record like this, there's nothing quite the same. Like a Reign in Blood, Darkness Descends or Zombie Attack, it fashions the most straightforward of intentions into a seamless bloodthirst. Fast drums, angry riffs hurtling past you at a mile a minute, and gruesome vocals that sound like they're coming from a man who was just stabbed in the face during some barroom altercation with a half-broken glass bottle. No riff seems out of place, no derelict tempo or stylistic diversion enters the frame to diminish its momentum. Violent Restitution never pretends to be what it's not, knows and respects its own boundaries, and offers you precisely what its cover implies: an escape into social unrest, serial killer b-flicks, and a repository for unchecked, unapologetic masculinity. So close to perfection that you can taste it. In fact, if I wasn't such a massive nerd for Voivod in their prime, this would prove my favorite Canadian metal record. Ever.

Like its chronological/national neighbor Dimension Hatröss, Violent Restitution is a concept album. But the theme here isn't rocket science or speculative microscopic adventure. No, this is about 14 ways to kick your ass so hard that you'll have to floss your colon after it comes up through your throat and breaks all your teeth. The riffing provides the central force, tireless escapades of rapid mute picking and barrages of chords, coiled in the potency of Carlo's chosen tone. The guitars have more punch than almost any other Razor record. Less reverberated and atmosphere than an Evil Invaders or Executioner's Song, but denser and more effective than an Open Hostility. While Dave is the epitome of the thrash rhythm guitarist, even more so than fellow Canadian Jeff Waters of Annihilator, he's also quite capable of unhinged leads ("Eve of the Storm", "I'll Only Say It Once") that offer the bluesy, burning wildness metal snagged from its hard rock ancestry; or brief, spurious runs up and down the higher strings which add an extra level of chaos and acceleration to the standard machine gunning rhythm matrix he radiates.

Everything else on this album is secondary to that guitar, but by no means does it go down without a fight. Rob Mills' drums slap along like empty buckets being strung along a dragster on the speedway, and while there's not a lot of variation in what he's playing, he amply fills the shoes of predecessor M-Bro. Adam Carlo, younger brother do Dave, is the other new member on bass; and though his lines do little more than to mimic the guitars and increase their depth, there's this natural, pluggy tone to his playing that pounds away at your eardrums like the pulse of a heroine addict who just realized he's out of supply. Overall though, the album's engineers and producer (Brian Taylor, who had also worked with other Canadian mainstays like Sacrifice) did a knockout job of presenting Razor in this pummeling, pungent sound that easily trumps the airy aesthetics of its predecessor Custom Killing, or the thinner mix of Malicious Intent.

I should mention that the chainsaw samples, which appear at several points on the album, are excellent, and fire up the loins of the album's pacing even further. Unlike the ass-backwards, terrible Southern hard rock band Jackyl, whose cut "The Lumberjack" featured a chainsaw 'solo' and helped buy their fame, the gimmick is a lot more fun here, since it's obvious influenced more directly by the slasher flicks of the 70s and 80s. Violent Restitution, after all, is a very violent album, so when that buzzsaw begins a buzzin', it forces the listener to want to kick all that much harder. Razor also perfects their instrumental thrash opus here with "The Marshall Arts", an aptly pun-titled piece of moshing resilience which features some of the explosive riffing on the album straight out the starting gate. I'd place this in the arena with just about any other track of its sort, certainly with S.O.D.'s "March of the S.O.D." which had become so famous through its stint as the intro to Headbanger's Ball.

Stace 'Sheepdog's' vocals here are a tinge dry, but he's using the same register as the previous albums, with a lot of puerile, irascible barking and slight screams that beautiful permeate the brash hostility of the instrumental foundation. Alongside Jeff Becera or Cronos, this guy had hands down one of the best voices in the business, grimy in all the right ways and places. Violent Restitution would prove his swan song with Razor, and the metal scene in general (he did a brief jaunt with Infernal Majesty this same year that never amounted to anything), and let me say this: the loss is ours. Unlike most of the newly birthed thrashers of the current era, he has an instant character to his inflection that never evades your memory. It's not 'trying' to amount to anything, it simply is, and it's a fucking bloodbath well-suited to the hilariously blunt lyrics, a non stop flood of expressions guaranteed to get your face (or someone else's) clubbed in an alleyway.

41 minutes. 14 tracks. Choosing favorites among them would be nearly impossible, since the quality is so taut and consistent. Obviously "Behind Bars" has received much attention through covers (like the great Cannibal Corpse version), but "Hypertension", "Taste the Floor", "Enforcer" and so many others belong on a highlight reel of the 80s' greatest thrash. I also loved the smutty "Discipline", or "I'll Only Say It Once", which hearken back to the molten speed-dirt of Executioner's Song; and "Out of the Game" with that amazing mid-paced riff that just pops along up until the verse erupts. Only a hand few fall shy of perfection, like the title track, but at worst it's only enough that I could graze off a few points to my overall score. Yes, just a marginal increase in depth would have netted this a 10 out of 10, 100%, but it's nevertheless one of the most essential purchases a thrasher could make. Even in a year of brilliant extremity like Blood Fire Death, Punishment for Decadence, Leprosy, South of Heaven, The Morning After, and Malleus Maleficarum, this still earns a spot at the dinner table, and sharpened utensils with which to carve you up. Prepare for evisceration. Prepare for impact.

Verdict: Epic Win [9.75/10] (hot blood runs cold)

http://come.to/the.razor.pages

Queensrÿche - Operation: Mindcrime (1988)

It would be remiss of me to think of Operation: Mindcrime as a mere album, because to me, personally, it has served more as an institution. Along with records like Port Royal and Somewhere in Time, both of which share a similar, airy eloquence in their production values (thank the 80s), this has become a monumental benchmark by which I've judged much melodic metal I've experienced since. In fact, if I myself was to be locked away in some remote gulag or asylum, stripped of my iPod, but allowed a mere car mirror CD visor worth of metal music to bring along, this would be guaranteed a slot. It's one of those rare cases of a record upon which I wouldn't propose a single alteration. If given the power to time travel and manipulate musical media, I wouldn't change a damned note on Operation: Mindcrime. It was, and remains in my estimation, flawless. Never broken. And never needing to be fixed. Or compromised by its own authors (but that, as they say, is 'another story').

However, despite its massive commercial success, and the endless landfill of praise and detraction that has been laid upon it through the ensuing decades, Operation: Mindcrime is not a record without some baggage, and this I would largely attest to conflicting perceptions of its conceptual merit. Queensrÿche's third full-length was not its first with a unified theme, but the first to really splay it out into a narrative rock opera involving brainwashing, political assassination, and a clear violation of doctor-patient confidence. The band hired on friends and actors to perform brief character roles, and they set it up with a number of briefer story vignettes to round out the metal tracks. For some listeners, this is a huge hurdle, but personally I rather enjoyed each of these pieces, not only for their value to the central theme, but also because of the clinical atmosphere and sense of gravity they lend to the story. They're also musical for the most part, with but one or two exceptions; for instance, "Anarchy-X" is a 90 second anthem with brazen guitars, dual leads and warlike drumming cadence that fully fits with the lengthier cuts. It's not like Pestilence's Testimony of the Ancients, where the interludes seem to be incorporated just for the sheer whim of experimentation. No, these pieces actually seem to belong to their surroundings.

Of course, one of the joys of this album is that it can actually be listened to in two ways: straight through the story sequentially, or by skipping the central narrative and appreciating each of its regular length tracks for their individual values. Some might contain snippets of samples or story, but the lyrics behind a tune like "Eyes of a Stranger", "The Needle Lies", "I Don't Believe In Love" could hold some relevance for a listener whether or not he/she gives two shits about Sister Mary, Father William, or Dr. X. Nor would it take a high intellect to be able to make an 'abstraction' out of "Suite Sister Mary" or the title track. Much has been said of how 'genius' or 'brilliant' the album's concept was. I myself was incessantly exposed to such praise in high school to the point that I couldn't stand it, joyous that, for once, the hairspray-drugged Poison and Bon Jovi crowd, and the male students chasing their tails, had invested themselves in an album of quality. But let's be honest: Mindcrime's story is an average psychological thriller at best. It's not a Gravity's Rainbow, or Foucault's fucking Pendulum. It doesn't have the same pulse pounding action and intrigue as Robert Ludlum's Bourne series. The twists and turns are fairly obvious, and the lyrical diatribe used to convey the tale is hardly complex or inventive prose. That said, though, so what? Compared to most of the driven being spewed upon the radio to glam fans, or the same half dozen issues being beaten to the floor by the more serious metal acts of the 80s, Operation: Mindcrime was indeed something special. Different.

What's more, the music itself is superb. Bearing aside the standalone intro and interludes, which I've discussed above, the level of composition on this album is far beyond that of its predecessors, and needless to say any of the miserable albums since. Tate and DeGarmo, Wilton, Jackson and Rockenfield create this monstrous admixture of melody, harmony, atmosphere, power and drama through a riff-set that even for its day would hardly be considered complicated or technical, and yet its impact is timeless. After a few cycles of the ten 'core' tracks, I have never been able to get them out of my head. Aesthetically, this is an album which walks the line between the mainstream hard rock sounds of its day and a slightly more progressive metal inclination. The writing is similar to Rage for Order, but with an exponentially superior polish and level of refinement. I mean, for fuck's sake, I like every single (complete) song on this album more than Rage for Order in TOTAL, and sitting here a quarter century after its release I can't hear a single flake of rust on this whole spectacle. Sure, you could 'date' this to the 80s, but three decades later I find it all too rare that I pick up any album which covers so many bases as this.

All five of the musicians deserve top honors for this feat, but I suppose, to start at the top: Geoff Tate. There is a reason this man built a legacy which brought him in firing range of legends like a Halford or Dickinson. Some consider the guy the greatest vocalist in the field, and you're listening to exactly why. His timbre is impeccable. His range, perhaps not limitless, but so fully utilized that he's the equivalent of a living siren. Had the sailors of antiquity heard this voice through the maritime mists, and changed course to find a naked, German-born man calling them to their deaths from a rocky outcropping, they would have questioned their own sexuality before hull breach and drowning. Higher pitched, inspirational and unforgettable pre-chorus and chorus sequences litter this record like lemmings a cliff-side, and he structures every individual line with skill and quality. Where he hits those highs in "Speak", or "Revolution Calling", or the eternally pleasing chorus to "Eyes of a Stranger", all 6'2", 220 lbs of burly, bald-headed, linebacker-like, (nearly) middle-aged me wants to break down into tears; partly because of the sheer level of emotion inherent in the melodies, and partly because I know I could never sing that beautifully in my entire life, with or without computerized assistance...Tate even excels when it comes to adding a playful or maniacal component to the verses, and his lower range is cautionary, moody and eloquent where it appears.

Yet the chords, leads, and rhythm section support his crystalline delivery brick by brick. DeGarmo and Wilton weave the sorts of gracious, burning melodies over the lattice of backing guitars that I so loved about a song like the Scorpions' "No One Like You". I must have spent hours in my formative years with the instrument scratching out the chorus melody to "The Mission", or the Maiden-esque, opening volley of "Speak" which is probably better than anything those same Brits wrote at their own peak. But the MVP award here might go to the rhythm guitars, which are muscular and spacious, whether chugging or hanging on an open chord. DeGarmo earned a paycheck for the next century with these riffs. If I were to dissect all of the album's central songs, or even "Anarchy-X" measure for measure, remove the drums and bass, the beautiful vocals, the subtle but effective synthesizers, each of the guitar progressions would be enjoyable by its lonesome. That proves just how well-composed this is, and in fact I can barely understand how they were able to arrive at such impressive riffs and vocal lines individually, both so glorious in tandem. The leads, too, are all wonderful, though they've got their work cut out for them to even ATTEMPT to live up to the other riffs and choruses that lead into them.

Jackson and Rockenfield should not evade mention, either, for while the ears might remain affixed to Tate and the guitar harmonies throughout Mindcrime, their steady pummeling is part of the appeal. Jackson's tone is punchy and plodding, especially for a lot of the mid-paced numbers where he's repeated such simple note sequences below the workmanlike gait of the guitars (reference "Breaking the Silence" or "I Don't Believe in Love" for a prime example). Rockenfield doesn't overdo anything here, as usual he gives a mightier than typical approximation of the standard rock beat, but he earns his signature steel cage, and those snare hits really drive home the emotional wait of each mournful chord sequence and palm muted mugging. Nothing too technical, which would feel arbitrary in the universal grasp of these songs, but it sounds like it must have been quite fun to lay these out. James Barton and the rest of the engineers did a knockout job of fusing the varied elements together, none ever too loud that they drown out another, despite the 80s proclivity for setting the vocals so high in the mix. Like the satisfaction of finishing a puzzle, everything seems to snap into place, even the less pronounced components like airy synthesizers and the vocal acting used for the intros/interludes. I still have my original CD copy, and it sounds unbelievable cranked up.

In terms of individual songs, there are no personal favorites, or to be more accurate, they are ALL favorites. I could not choose one over another, since the consistency of quality is omnipresent. Even comparing two of the most 'contrasted' neighbors on the playlist, the 11 minute epic "Suite Sister Mary" with its ominous, operatic choirs, overcast clean guitars, and varied, almost frightening arrangement; to the succinct power metal pummeling of "The Needle Lies", there is no lapse in fulfillment. I suppose the songs that were made singles are sensible, like the soul searing, climactic finale "Eyes of a Stranger" or the hard rock pleaser "I Don't Believe in Love", but even the more unsung entities "Spreading the Disease" and "Breaking the Silence" are better than anything most bands ever concoct in their entire careers. Lyrically, while the album serves to follow its character perspectives with a blue-collar rage, its perfectly cast to the music, and there are a number of unforgettable phrases throughout. 'Twenty-five bucks a fuck and John's a happy man', 'People always turn away from the eyes of a stranger', all great stuff that most of us can relate to.

Like any masterpiece, there will be opposition to a record like this. Hell, even the most recognized chefs attract roaches to their kitchens. Crunch. Operation: Mindcrime is an indisputable, indispensible cornerstone of the progressive/power metal field, even if most bands in this niche seem to take more direct cues from the wonkier Rush-like expressions of an act like Dream Theater. It might not be jammy or improvisational, or as nerdy sounding as Rage for Order, but it was blessed with an accessible edge that somehow managed to blow the lid off the band's potential audience, while not insulting the more underground sensibilities of the serious metal fan. It 'speaks to all of us', if you'll pardon the phrase. While its far from the first rock concept album (the 60s and 70s had some pretty heady stuff), or even the best of its type in 1988 (Voivod's Dimension Hatröss was more interesting, if not musically superior), it set the bar for many to follow it. In fact, it set that goal so high that its own creators have failed to match it since, even with the greater mainstream success of its follow-up Empire. That's the one 'down side' to Mindcrime. It won't happen again. Perhaps the album's narrative saga is not the most brilliant of ideas, but the music didn't get that memo.

Oh, and as for my teary-eyed confession above, well... I never wrote that. Never happened. Forget it. I'm sending someone over. I've got a job for you. Time to make something of yourself. Take this number and welcome to: da-neh-na-neeeeh.

Verdict: Epic Nun [10/10] (we've got so much to do)

http://queensrycheofficial.com/home.cfm

Overkill - Under the Influence (1988)

Barring the arguable importance of any of their stylistic 'comebacks' later in history, Under the Influence was perhaps the most important album in Overkill's career, the 'make or break' moment where they had ridden in on two fairly spectacular recordings, already had a deal with one of the larger US majors, and needed to start churning out the hits that might place them in league with any of the 'big four' thrash bands who were selling hotcakes (though many would say the East Coasters deserve a quarter of that accolade themselves) and inspiring generations of heshers. So it's sad to say that, while strong, this was somewhat of a disappointment for me. After Taking Over, I expected only the world, but what I got was the sewer. A charming sewer, granted, and one that would introduce us formally to the group's long-term horned, batwinged skull mascot, but like Chaly, who we all wanted very badly to incinerate that douchebag on the cover, it comes up slightly short of its mark.

I don't know if it's the result of the band rushing this out the door, or the transition to the new drummer Sid Falck, but something about the production here just never sat quite right with me. It's not 'bad', mind you, but I felt like the bass was often a little too pluggy and the vocals didn't seem quite so forceful or confident as they had on the first two albums, occasionally too distant from the other instruments the mix. The band was once again working with Alex Perialas, who helmed Taking Over and also did some of the engineering on the debut, but this album doesn't seem as balanced and level as its predecessor. That aside, the guitars, drums and vocals are all clear and distinct enough for you to enjoy them individually, and the riffs are meaty and hammering enough to stir up a mosh pit and get the band their first major video airplay with "Hello to the Gutter", which feels like melodic Van Halen hard rock riffing diffused into punk restlessness and grating but unforgettable vocals. The drums feel like standard muscular rocking, which suits this tune in particular, but the salient chorus provides the song's salvation, and it's no wonder this became a fixture for gigs and another fan anthem in line with "Wrecking Crew".

There's not quite so much depth here as there was with Taking Over, but apart from "Hello..." you're treated to a handful of staples like the petulent "Shred", which opens the record with some of the band's fastest and most aggressive riffing to its day, only to transition into a bouncy fist-baller redolent of the material Anthrax or M.O.D. were writing at this same time. Or "Mad God World", with its treacherous grooves and lunatic chorus, and "Brainfade", with some sticky and interesting guitar progressions. It's the latter half of Under the Influence that fires off a few blanks. There is plenty of variation to be had, between some of the clean and tinny guitar intros, surgical riffs, and chunky mid-paced crowd pleasing, but songs like "End of the Line" seemed inconsistent, each measuring off some solid mosh rhythms with zipping leads and vocal patterns that never completely hooked me on the line. It's still an album I can listen to in completion, thanks to the pacing, charismatic lyrics and nostalgic appeal, but my enjoyment is not distributed evenly throughout.

Of course, sized up against a lot of the average American thrash choking up the record shelves of the late 80s, Under the Influence was still good enough to keep the band hovering in the average metalian's radar. I remember coming away from this with a similar impression that I got from State of Euphoria or ...And Justice For All: that the album felt mildly overproduced, and that it's modern compunctions lent too much of a sterile, plastic wrapping to what otherwise might have proven poignant songwriting. Compared with the more ripping, raw force of records like Razor's Violent Restitution or Tankard's The Morning After, or the dry, disturbing emanations off Slayer's South of Heaven, Under the Influence seemed somewhat 'assembly line', a series of mosh anthems akin to late 80s Anthrax or Zetro era Exodus which were hammy and fun rather than soul searing, belligerent excess. Not necessarily a negative in this case, since a number of the songs are strong and memorable enough to have earned a stable spot in the band's set lists; but while Under the Influence is still worth owning for any Overkill fan, and admittedly superior to anything the band has produced since, I could sense even in my teens that some thrashing summit had been reached, and this was the band coming down the far side of the hill, back to the city and their day jobs.

Verdict: Win [8/10] (signed on for life into submission)

http://wreckingcrew.com/Ironbound/