Monthly Archives: October 2013

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VIRAL LOAD, Bashed Fucking Skull (1997, demo)

The skull:
My uncle has always been an early adopter type. Whatever was the hot new gadget, he got it, and made the most out of it. In the early days of PCs, he was fond of a program called Print Shop. It was a primitive graphics package primarily used to create greeting cards and flyers for bake sales and other ephemera. Early versions were, of course, monochrome and designed for use with dot matrix printers. Anyway, we would often get birthday cards or whatnot created in Print Shop, in all their stock graphics glory. You couldn’t do a lot with Print Shop, and Photo Shop it most certainly wasn’t, and pretty quickly a seasoned user of the software would find himself creating basically the same images as everyone else, because basically you had no choice. Print Shop lived on through the early days of color inkjet printers, but it eventually proved so limiting (and its output so ghastly) that it faded into the mists of pre-internet legend. But I guess at least one person was still using it in 1997, because this cover, with its plastic images, the corny squished skulls on the back of the J-card, the bizarre phantasmagoria of a background, the shitty extruded font, etc., could only have been made in Print Shop. I applaud that last, lonely user, who in his DIY zeal to get his music heard, conceived and delivered unto this world a Big Dumb Skull as gloriously stupid as this. The world is unlikely to see finer in these late technodystopian days.

The music:
Oh man, I am totally psyched for this. Eastern European heavy metal at its finest. Lemme just cue this up and hit play… Uh. Wait. There must be some mistake. This doesn’t appear to be the decades-late Croatian answer to Tygers of Pan Tang. This is some kind of shitty brutal death metal? With a drum machine? What the fuck? Now the cover doesn’t make sense AT ALL. This is the sort of idiot gore metal that demands a cover of, I dunno, lacerated tits or something. Something that combines pimply misogyny with a ton of blood. This cover isn’t going to offend anyone (except those last few old ladies still clutching their pearls at swear words) and it utterly fails to represent Viral Load honestly. Then again, if you really knew what you were in for, you’d never listen to this, so maybe the Trojan Horse strategy was a wise one. Sucker people in with the promise of totally unironic metal and then when they least expect it, BAM, you hit them with your half-assed Skinless worship. That’s almost certainly giving Viral Load too much credit for cleverness, but literally nothing else could possibly explain the marriage of this music and this cover. It’s a fucked-up world, though.
— Friar Johnsen

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GRINNING DEATH’S HEAD, No Afterlife (2009, Youth Attack)

The skull:
I picture the artist commissioned to illustrate this album spending about five minutes thinking, “How am I going depict ‘No Afterlife’? Hmm,” before saying, “Fuck it. I’m just gonna do the band name.” Boom. Done. Although truthfully, this is a pretty awesome grinning death’s head. He clearly took a serious beating, and he’s still smiling. It all started with some asshole yelling, “Oh yeah? Well how’s about I wipe that smile offa your face for ya?” and it ended with the same asshole walking away highly frustrated.

The music:
This is the absolute worst sort of no-fi black metal bullshit. It sounds like the band set up at the bottom of a stairwell while one of their toadies operated the boombox “mobile recording studio” at the top. It’s basically impossible to tell what anyone is doing here, and I can’t imagine what this band was hoping to accomplish. I mean, maybe this sort of thing was shocking or transgressive or whatever in 1992, but in 2009? For fuck’s sake. Grinning Death’s Head used a big dumb skull for their subsequent demo as well (it’s a skull in a chalice!), but no way in hell are any of us at Skull HQ going to listen to this band ever again, for any reason.
— Friar Johnsen

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HATCHERY, Birth of a Bomb (2007, self-released)

The skull:
This cover is the bomb! There, I said it. I like that another German band checks in
with a bomb/warhead theme so soon after U.D.O.’s Timebomb, Skull280. This is one of the finest entries we Friars and the Council have ever seen, a favorite in the Skullection. I don’t have to walk you through this one…you can see very clearly why it rules. I mean, a bomb with a warhead fashioned into a skull, a skull grinning in anticipation of
killing hundreds upon impact, maybe thousands if he’s lucky. A kamikaze mission, for sure. The huge right earhole is weird — perhaps it’s a matter of aerodynamics — and I like the thin robotic arm with a human hand putting on a final weld or two before this sucker drops on some unfortunate mass of humanity.

The music:
With an album cover this good, the music was bound to disappoint. Hatchery play super-aggressive, super-energetic thrash with a vocalist who yelps hysterically above the din. Not quite Sean Killian (Vio-lence) but probably equally divisive to thrash fans; there are also some similarities to the guy in Lich King (who, incidentally, have an album called Born of the Bomb). Maybe it’s like early Bobby Blitz (Overkill) trying to sing Last Man on Earth-era Martin Van Drunen (that specific enough for you?). But this guy, Christian Muller, is clearly his own man, and admittedly pretty nuts. I’d recommend checking this album out only to experience his vocals. Musically Hatchery are a totally competent band, with moments that set them a level or two higher from the new-thrash pack, like the “Wasted Years”-esque guitar work that opens “Brotherhood,” or the excellent soloing at the end of “Above the Law.” They’re also not afraid of Anthrax-style gang vocals, or showing influence from straightforward traditional heavy metal (parts of “War”). But, yet again (and again…and again…and again) there are no truly inventive riffs here, it’s all been beaten to death, buried, exhumed, and beaten to fucking death again. So, I’d recommend this if you have a limitless love for pretty much all thrash yet prefer the upper tier of the NWoTM (Havok, Lich King, Evile). I’m not even gonna list Vektor, as they’re above it all. Hatchery does, at least, have something of their own sound happening, but that’s largely due to the vocalist’s crazed delivery. BTW, the word “hatchery” must carry a special meaning for those in Germany and Eastern Europe, because the only two metal bands in existence using this word are from the region (the other being Poland’s Calm Hatchery). There’s aren’t many words that are less metal than “hatchery.” Makes me think of tiny yellow chicks, or fish.
— Friar Wagner

 

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BLACKHORNED, A Night at the Graves (2010, self-released)

The skull:
It’s well known that The Council frowns on skulls in possession of other bones, which is why skeletons are absolutely forbidden from The Skullection. But here we have an impish skull grinning madly and surrounded by bones that are clearly not a part of his own anatomy. He’s just a cheeky joker, popping out of a midden of human remains, probably to surprise some of his skull buddies, whom I imagine hovering somewhere out of frame. Or maybe this skull romps in piles of bone as a child plays in a heap of raked leaves or drifted snow. He’s just having a laugh, kicking back on a night at the graves, which is one of the few entertainment options available to a free-spirited and underemployed skull these days.

The music:
A Night at the Graves collects some rehearsal room demos and some live tracks, and was allegedly sold only at shows on CDR, although I’ve seen it listed at reasonable prices by a few mailorder vendors, so it can’t be that rare. Blackhorned play, as you’d probably expect, sleazy death/thrash with some D-beat leanings. Think Nocturnal Breed, but not as fast. I find this kind of music fairly worthless, but then again, it’s lifestyle metal, made for people who want to cultivate a very specific aesthetic and mystique. Somehow in life, a guy decides he’s gonna start wearing a black denim vest and a bullet belt and aviator glasses and spiked bracers (at least on special occasions). He decides that his music will be cult, his beer cheap, and his showers irregular. He starts off easy, maybe with some Aura Noir and Desaster and two or three bands that start with “Dis-“. And before you know it, he’s got a shrine full of Blackhorned rehearsal demos and a landlord threatening him with eviction. It happens all the time, and there’s nothing any of us can do to stop it.
— Friar Johnsen

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FUNERAL MARCH, Invite to Die!? (1992, Koroski Radio)

The skull:
Apparently released as a cassette-only album, judging by the shape of the artwork, this sports an album title of awkward-English, the kind of thing common to Eastern European and Japanese bands. Gotta love ’em. It looks like pure doom metal, if I had to wager a guess as to its musical content, all gothic horror in black and white. And we love skulls with bat wings around here, a motif made popular by Overkill, and Slovenia’s Funeral March add their own contribution to the niche. Note that the skull is somehow able to furrow his brow to create a deadly scowl. And dig the speeding black dots flying west at mach 10 in the background, lending a sci-fi edge to the supernatural goings-on in the foreground.

The music:
In the band picture I’m looking at, two of the four dudes (all who look about age 17) are sporting Sepultura shirts. And there is a whiff of Sepultura happening here, but it’s more Morbid Visions than Arise. Yep, Funeral March are raw and primitive, but just competent enough, blurring the lines between early thrash, death and black metal. It all ends up sounding like Morbid Visions covered by early Tiamat, such is its sluggish, rhythmically loose approach. They do rise to a higher level of complexity and competence with final song “Chernobil,” which happens to also be the longest song on the album (4:45). Otherwise the songs are quite short, averaging about two-and-a-half minutes in length. There’s a charm to this, and I like similar sounding acts of the era, but they’re not doing anything I can’t live without. If you like early Sepultura, early Tiamat, raw Greek black/thrash/death, and early Mortuary Drape, this would probably hold some level of appeal for you. Interestingly, my survey of Invite to Die!? on Youtube led to a completely unrelated link called ‘Never Let a Crack Head Sing at Your Funeral.’ It’s good fun, so check that out too.
— Friar Wagner

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DISHARMONIC, Infernal Messengers (2001, demo)

The skull:
It’s hard to tell from the crappy low-res image (this cover seems to have been scanned and posted to the internet only once) but it looks like a bad screen-cap from a shitty old horror movie. Or maybe it’s just a smiling skull hanging out on some rocky European beach. His infernal message is, “Party hard!”

The music:
While the internet can offer at least a 200×200 pic of the cover, it has nothing to offer if you’re interested in the music on Infernal Messengers. I guess this is the true dream of every cult black metal band, to be so obscure that no one has ever heard you. Mission accomplished, Disharmonic! The band released a full album, evidently on CD, a couple years later, and that also hasn’t even attracted the interest of mp3 pirates. So fucking kvlt. Anyway, Disharmonic are the kind of band that wears bullet belts and bandoliers, while brandishing an axe. And of course, corpse paint. You know they weren’t gonna skip the corpse paint. But yeah, bullets and blades. It seems that if you’re going to carry a few hundred rounds of ammunition, you should perhaps forgo the axe and carry a gun. But that’s not how Disharmonic rolls. Obscure and stupid is a way of life.
— Friar Johnsen

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DREADNAUGHT, Dirty Music  (2005, Roadrunner)

The skull:
Well this is a pretty low-rent album cover, huh? Looks like an electrical panel cover that some hooligan tagged with rust-colored spray paint using an admittedly well-made stencil. Exciting.

The music:
This band ended up on Roadrunner in Europe, sorta making them labelmates with Opeth, Dream Theater, Porcupine Tree and Rush…or if you wanna be more cynical, fucking Nickelback. Really, though, they belong on Pavement. Dreadnaught play simplistic groove metal that flirts with death ‘n’ roll, and would appeal to Black Label Society fans. So the guitarist plays some pretty gnarly leads…it doesn’t matter when the foundation is formulaic junk like “Scenester” and “Cut Throat Blues.” I hate to inform vocalist Greg Trull: you are NOT Maynard James Keenan, and I’ll bet Maynard thinks your band sucks. Clean vocal verses, an explosion of aggro in the chorus, repeat ad nauseum. We’ve heard it four zillion times before. Once I figure out how much this 40 minutes of wasted time is worth, I’ll be sending them a bill. What hath nu- and alt-metal wrought? Fuckers.
— Friar Wagner

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SOULBENDER, Soulbender (2004, Licking Lava)

The skull:
A broken up skull with horns. How original. But wait, this devil skull is also sporting a halo? A traditional signifier of holiness? Surely there must be some mistake. Surely Soulbender realizes that longstanding graphical tradition assigns horns to badness and halos to goodness. What could they possibly mean to suggest by thus combining them in a single figure? In a skull, no less! A skull floating over a generic yellow and brown background. Soulbender are totally challenging all my preconceived notions, here, forcing me to question everything I thought I knew. It’s like the very core of my being, my soul if you will, is being twisted into some new configuration, bent into… woah……………. Dude!

The music:
Soulbender are only barely metal, and at that, they’re the worst kind of metal: alt-metal. Think Alice in Chains, but slightly heavier. Like, if AiC listened to Tool but couldn’t quite figure out what they were doing. It’s Soulbender’s pedigree alone which (barely) convinced The Council of their worthiness for the Skullection, as the band includes Queensryche guitarist Michael Wilton, and My Sister’s Machine’s Nick Pollock on vocals. Granted, this is about as low-watt a supergroup as you could conceive, and they put their combined talents to even less fruitful use than most such assemblies, but if the Skullection is about anything, it’s about barely trying and hardly succeeding. Queensryche’s post DeGarmo wilderness years were marked by increasibly terrible albums, although in the recent brouhaha Wilton and company claimed to have been either disengaged from or shut out of the songwriting process altogether. But, if Soulbender is any indication, Michael Wilton was fully qualified all along to join Geoff Tate in the ruining of Queensryche. There’s not much worse than an album so calculatedly written to court commercial success as this was, but when the effort reveals an understanding of what the public wants that’s close to a decade out of date, the entire spectacle just becomes sad and embarrassing. Although, come to think of it, sadness and embarrassment is pretty much Wilton’s stock-in-trade anymore. It’s what he’s best at, even.
— Friar Johnsen

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OLDSKULL, Breaking Bones  (2009, demo)

The skull:
These guys take it literal and give it back the same way. There’s a cracked skull on the cover and they title this thing Breaking Bones. The skull goes way back too, belonging to some Homo erectus rocker from the Pleistocene. Now that’s old! And it’s big too. And, although not as dumb as its ancestors Homo ergaster or the seriously knuckleheaded Homo habilis, it’s still dumb compared to us rocket scientists roaming the planet these days. So, Oldskull – Breaking Bones. Yeah, serious literality all up in this joint!

The music:
Holy cow, these Venezuelans love them some early Sodom and early Slayer. They’re probably the sort of guys who think Sodom sold out on the ultra-wimpy Persecution Mania and that Slayer went too progressive with Haunting the Chapel. While the vocals, especially on the title track, are pretty much cloned Tom Angelripper circa bowlcut bangs, musically they’re quite a bit tighter than the lovingly incompetent 1984-era Sodom. So, you can pretty much expect stock old-thrash riffs and ultra-straightforward rhythmic ideas that have been Xeroexed about 67,000 times over by now. But Oldskull’s good enough that if you were at a teenage basement beer party on the outskirts of Valencia somewhere and these dudes were playing, you’d hang out and watch. Good thing bassist Gabriel “Peluso” Burland only took lead vocals on one song, “Matter Over the Mind,” because he’s absolutely horrible. The kind of talk-singing stupidity that sucked back in 1988 when many New Renaissance bands were trashing it up, and apparently he’s single-handedly (“-throatedly”?) bringing back the magic. I wonder if these guys realize there was a novelty punk band of pre-teen kids called Old Skull that predated them by two decades? Probably not. They’re probably unaware of anything that happened in extreme music after 1985. Ignorance is bliss.
— Friar Wagner

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GRÄFENSTEIN, Skull Baptism (2010, Black Hate Productions)

The skull:
They went literal here, and found a pair of hands holding a skull, as if to dunk it in a baptismal font or something, and then, I guess, they did a really bad job with the magic wand tool in Photoshop, grabbing a messy blob of the original image and plunking it on a white background. Then they made it all dark and murky and evil. Then they called it a day. Well, they did slap the band’s logo on the skull, but it’s impossible to read, so thanks for nothing, guys.

The music:
Although Gräfenstein are nominally a black metal band, 25% or more of the riffs in their songs are straight up thrash. It’s a weird combination, because for the most part they don’t blend the two styles (except for an occasional black metal barre-chord riff with a thrash beat). Instead, they just alternate between the two distantly-related modes. So while “Monarch of Scorn” starts with a barrage of thrash riffs that go on for close to a minute, it ends in a blur of black metal blasts and expectorative rasping. Both identities of the band are competent, even good, although I prefer the thrashing to the blackening, because that’s my nature. They even throw in a little neoclassical noodling in “Vermin.” All in all, this is a strange album that I can’t say I love outright, but I do find it generally appealing. The playing is sharp, the sound is abrasive but not off-putting, and the intensity is undeniable. If they’re able to better incorporate their disparate elements in the future, I could see myself really digging this band.
— Friar Johnsen