SKULL202

WHITE SKULL, The Ring of the Ancients  (2006, Frontiers)

The skull:
Standard issue stuff here, nothing to get excited about — not even enough here to make jokes about. Just a skull poised at the center of a forged-in-iron sigil that seems to mix elements of Irish and Norwegian folklore/mythology. The skull is just barely big enough to make it into these hallowed halls. Naturally we wish the skull were a lot bigger, but we’ll give it a pass. Probably one of the least remarkable skulls in the BDS Skullection…but wait till you see skull #203 — it’s one of the finest. If you want to, go ahead and use your imagination regarding a ring and the ancients who possess it, but you probably have better things to do.

The music:
The long-suffering White Skull (this is their seventh of nine albums so far) have never quite managed to rise above the morass of middling power metal bands that litter the European landscape. That’s because they’re mediocre. Musically, this album is full of decent performances, anthemic melodies, the requisite amount of Euro power metal speed, and a vocalist whose accent totally betrays their Italian origin. I certainly have nothing against Italian musicians, it’s just that their vocalists often sound a bit silly when grappling with English lyrics. What’s more, the riffs are totally assembly-line “true metal,” ones you’ve heard a zillion times already, unless you’re new to this stuff. And if that’s the case you could probably get something out of White Skull. The strongest element of The Ring of the Ancients are the several AOR-leaning moments. It’s not exactly in line with, say, the last couple Nocturnal Rites albums, but you can hear it occasionally, as in the pre-chorus break of “Ninth Night” and the subtlest corners of “From the Mist.” This partly answers why the album ended up on the Frontiers label. Oh, and they do a pretty decent cover of Black Sabbath’s “Valhalla.” Bonus points to them for choosing a song from Tony Martin-era Black Sabbath but, no real surprise, it’s ruined by the vocals.
— Friar Wagner

SKULL201

PSYOPUS, Odd Senses (2009, Metal Blade)

The skull:
Another sideways skull, this time an x-ray of a skull being drained by humungous mosquitoes. Plus some crazy, pointless psychedelic background, added as always in a lame attempt to hide the shame of a big dumb skull. When will these bands learn, though, that there is no shame in a BDS! Wear it like a badge of honor, the visible proof that you don’t care if anyone knows how uncreative you are. You can pretend all you want that you have better ideas, but you’re fooling no one, and now you can’t even claim to be operating ironically. Say it loud, “I’m a hack and I’m proud!”

The music:
It’s sort of astounding, the number of bands spawned by Dillinger Escape Plan’s Calculating Infinity. Of course, it’s a staggeringly original album, but it was also so singularly odd and musically daunting that when it came out, I doubt anyone would have guessed it would birth an entire cottage industry of wannabes. In an alternate universe, it would be like hundreds of bands blatantly rehashing Control and Resistance in 1991. Anyway, of the legion of DEP knockoffs, Psyopus are one of the better ones, but as with Meshuggah clones, no one ever really comes too close to capturing the magic of the original. Psyopus are on the branch of winking-ironist-DEP-lovers, with a high degree of silliness in their music (and probably lyrics, but I can’t be bothered to find out.) On Odd Senses this manifests in lots of goofy samples and the comic overuse of a whammy pedal. All the blasting and screaming gets old really fast, though, and while the patient scrutiny/endurance of Calculating Inifinity bears the sort of hard-won intellectual rewards you can also expect from, say, Obscura, Psyopus, like all their ilk, offer only the surface details, with none of the hidden depth. You’ll have to work just as hard to make it through their albums in a single sitting, but you’ll find no catharsis at the end. Just a minor headache and the resolve to not do this again any time soon.
— Friar Johnsen

SKULL200

MORDARK, Fuerza de la Oscuridad  (2000, self-released)

The skull:
This guy is ready for war. His eyes are piercing and alight with murderous intent. His grin is not one of happiness but of maniacal bloodthirst. (It’s a mouthful of choppers that any dentist would give their lateral incisor to work on.) How can we tell this skull’s up to no good? That ancient battle helmet! We’ll assume the horns are attached to the headpiece, because if they were actually part of his skull, it would be impossible to get that war-cap on his head.

The music:
I don’t know if this was intentional or not, but these Spaniards sound a lot like Tiamat in the Astral Sleep era. Descriptions of them as “black heavy metal” are accurate. The stuff is as angular and poorly recorded as Tiamat’s material from that era, but lacks all the eccentricity and ingenuity. Mordark gets a little more “true metal” sounding at times (the middle of “Almas Negras,” which is like early Slayer meets Iron Maiden, but played very very poorly). This album is generally too clunky and derivative for its own good, but they give it the old college try. They’re onto something, I’m just not sure it would be all that interesting even if it was better written and performed. This recording is from the earlier part of their career, and apparently they’re still around so let’s assume they’ve improved by now…
— Friar Wagner

SKULL199

CHRISTBAIT, Truckin’ (1994, Death Valley)

The skull:
It’s like The Exploited’s skully dude, except his mohawk is a spine. Or a bony Wendy O (there’s probably another joke to be had there, but I’ll leave it to the reader’s imagination). Usually we at Skull HQ prefer our skulls head-on (as it were), but this from-the-side skull is so proudly big and dumb that we’re happy to welcome him to the Skullection.

The music:
Based on this single song from a split with Dirt Clod Fight (whom I will not review), Christbait seem to have started as an industrial-inspired crust metal band, but they gradually took on some “southern” elements. They don’t seem to have gone full Eyehategod, but of course, the less New Orleans in your sound, the better. The industrial bit, at least, is of course not surprising, since they almost certainly took their name from Godflesh. The drums are live, which is a nice surprise (I expected programmed beats), and the playing is solid, sometimes even inventive. Think early Pitchshifter mixed with late 80s Amebix and a hint of southern-fried stoner bullshit (mainly in the form of some bluesy fills) and you’re in the right neighborhood. The singing is not great, mainly just yelling, but that’s typical for the crustier genres, and I can live with it, because the song is more or less okay. I might go back and check out their earlier stuff, because minus the swampy shit, this is pretty good.
— Friar Johnsen

SKULL198

INTERMENT, Where Death Will Increase 1991-1994  (2010, Necroharmonic)

The skull:
Where will death increase? Where will it decrease? Where does it stay the same? These are burning questions in Interment’s world, a world where skulls scream the question into the void rather than discussing the matter in a more civil manner. This skull, however, screams not, nor does he even talk, as he is gagged with a ring and primed for use as a totally bad-ass door knocker.

The music:
I don’t know about death itself, but death metal certainly increased between 1991 and 1994, especially if you’re talking about the number of shitty bands around in 1994 compared to 1991. Doubtless many of us into the first and best wave of Swedish death metal discovered a few previously overlooked gems since revival in interest found tons of second- and third-tier bands from the first era having their demos and albums reissued in more recent years. My most satisfying discovery of  an old band like that was Toxaemia, but Interment don’t spark the interest the way that band does. If you’d never heard brutal Swedish death metal before, Interment would definitely impress, but listeners who missed them the first time will likely acknowledge their competence and quickly move onto something a little fresher. Their sound recalls Dismember most, which means it also sounds a lot like early Entombed, but it’s got the thickness and tempo variety of early Therion and a bit of an early Unleashed thing going on too. This release compiles their three demos dating between 1991 and 1994; note that the first demo not only bore the same name as this comp, but featured the very same door knocker. In 2010 they released their very first full-length album, Into the Crypts of Blasphemy (as opposed to the crypts of rays), and they sound exactly the same there as on these early recordings. They’re consistent, that’s for sure.
— Friar Wagner

SKULL197

SAVAGE, Holy Wars (1995, Neat)

The skull:
See, these guys did it right. They decided they wanted a big dumb skull cover, so they hired a great artist to paint something awesome. The artist asked, “So, you want some kinda background? Like, maybe I could paint some teepees or Monument Valley or something…” and Savage said, “No, no. Just the skull, with the headdress, on black. That would look best, mate!” And they were so right! This has to be one of the finest skulls in the entire Skullection.

The music:
Savage’s first album, Loose ‘N’ Lethal is a minor NWOBHM classic, a fuzzy, proto-thrash romp that was evidently a formative influence on Metallica. Savage released one more album in the 80s before vanishing, only to reappear for the first wave of new wave nostaligia in the mid 90s. I used to see this album week after week in my favorite metal shop back then, and I always SO wanted to buy it, even listening to it on the store’s CD player many times in a vain attempt to learn to like it, but Holy Wars never won me over. It has the bluesy swing of classic NWOBHM (which is also to say, it doesn’t really sound like old Savage) but it comes with the glossy sheen of a band that hasn’t realized that hair metal isn’t so popular anymore. Nowadays, my standards lowered by maturity or senescence, I find this fairly enjoyable, if still totally inessential. If I saw this for sale, I’d totally buy it, though, then listen to it once and shelve it forever.
— Friar Johnsen

SKULL196

PHYNE THANQUZ, Into the Sun / Curse of the Gods 7″  (1982, ERC)

The skull:
Lookit this crazy man, still trying to hold onto his youth by keeping his shaggy black locks even though he’s pretty much dead. Silly hippie. He holds a crucifix and glares evilly into your eyes. A grim visage! An unholy scion of death! A piece of artwork tailor-made for some ridiculously obscure NWOBHM 7″! Another look and it’s more like some kinda Halloween Pez dispenser.

The music:
Next to Squashed Pyrannah, Phyne Thanquz is my favorite NWOBHM band name. And, like the Pyrannah, they are barely metal. Fine Thanks (in human vernacular) are, rather, among the many bands who dragged their ’70s influences/origins into the 1980s and went with heavy metal looking artwork. Their sound is like Max Webster meets early Blue Oyster Cult in a dingy Birmingham pub, with Jon Lord sitting in on organ. It’s a bit dodgy, overall, but you have to admire the energy and spirit found on these two tracks, and  there’s just enough of a whiff of bands like Vardis (the momentum), Satan (the vocals) and Legend (the ’70s aesthetic) that they might as well be rightfully lumped into the NWOBHM movement.
— Friar Wagner

SKULL195

FANTASMAGORIA, Inconceivable Future (1991, demo)

The skull:
Ah, the radiation symbol. Time was, you could expect at least one of these on damned near every metal release. Cold war nuclear paranoia was good for our music, to be sure! Fantasmagoria didn’t do much with it, though, and this demo cover looks like the result of a bad compromise between one guy who just wanted a skull, and another who just wanted the symbol. “How about we put them both on the cover?” the bassist suggested, playing the peacemaker as always, and while no one really liked the idea, they were at least satisfied that no one else was entirely happy, either. And really, when you put the two together, you get an entirely conceivable future. “Someday, we’re all gonna be skulls. Because of radiation.”

The music:
Surprisingly, I wasn’t able to find even a single song from this demo on the internet. Usually these old death metal curios are easy enough to come by. This band is listed by Daniel Ekeroth in his Swedish Death Metal encyclopedia, where he also notes that most of the Fantasmagoria members also played in Morgana Lefay. He says their early work (meaning, this demo) is “deadly” but goes on to say that they ended up as Pantera clones before breaking up. Sounds about right for BDS!
— Friar Johnsen

SKULL194

DIVINE EMPIRE, Nostradamus  (2003, Century Media)

The skull:
In the U.S., this was released by Olympic with a different cover, a bunch of skeletal remains, so we applaud Century Media Germany for releasing it over there with the only skeletal remain that matters. The skull sits in the foreground against a backdrop of one very dark night, or perhaps any given day of a nuclear winter — the black could be ash and other pollution permeating that distant collection of ruins. The dried blood in the eye sockets is disturbing. So, just what does this cover have to do with Nostradamus, the seer? Who knows. Maybe it’s his very skull? Or maybe in all his witchy mystic seeing, Nostradamus used a skull to divine the future. Divine…Nostradamus…waitaminute, have I stumbled upon Divine Empire drawing a clever and subtle line from their band name to the prophecies of Nostradamus? Nah, probably not.

The music:
Bread-and-butter, nothing-special death metal right here. It’s what Divine Empire have always specialized in. Might as well be a latter-day Malevolent Creation album for all I can tell. If competently played death metal is something you can’t get enough of, even if it is of the totally flavorless variety delivered here, then go for it.
— Friar Wagner

SKULL193

VILLAINS/FINGERNAILS, Getting Crazy (2008, Nuclear War Now! Productions)

The skull:
It looks like this skull just stepped off the streets of Brooklyn, he’s so hip, with his garish colors and massive aviators. You can easily imagine Pitchfork readers identifying with him, maybe buying him a PBR. That he’s holding vinyl only seals the deal. That said, for a cover that was probably created in a matter of minutes, it’s pretty striking and, at least by BDS standards, fairly original, if only for its palette.

The music:
I love this kind of split, where each band covers the other. At least, I love it in concept. I don’t know if I’ve heard a good one yet. I don’t know anything about Fingernails, but I’ve seen Villains before, and they’re a pretty gonzo punk/metal kind of thing. They’re the sort of band that makes you wonder if you’re not, yourself, sufficiently intense. Their version of Fingernails’ “Crazy for Blowjobs” is fine, and funny, but also kind of pointless, in the way an awful lot of punk is, 35 years past its creative expiration date. The Fingernails side is even less good, although it’s hard to say if this is their fault, or Villains’ fault for writing a lesser tune. It sounds like they recorded it in their rehearsal space, too. Anyway, this is an ephemeral, for-fans-only release, lasting under 7 minutes total, and while I’ll surely forget the music (actually, I already have), at least the skull is seared into my mind.
— Friar Johnsen