Monthly Archives: July 2014

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BECOMING THE ARCHETYPE, I Am (2012, Solid State)

The skull:
So THAT’S why all those hipster beardos grow such abominable facial hair. Here I thought they just had poor taste, when they suffer from some kind of skeletal abnormality. Is there no cure? Perhaps a telethon is in order. These men need help.

The music:
Cramming together basically every flavor of modern metal, Becoming the Archetype are a tour through all the ways kids have shitty taste. Djenty polyrhythms that go nowhere, slam breakdowns, guitar “sweeps” that are clearly pieced together note by note, etc. To be fair, this is far from the worst modern band I have heard. They’re pretty good players, and they do occasionally turn out a nice riff. But, the vocals are horrible, the bible-thumping lyrics fairly silly (you can’t be hard-ass toughs and convincingly praise the lord at the same time, although it’s funny when they write from god’s pov), and there’s no evidence that this band even wants to distinguish itself from the hundreds of other bands doing the same thing. If you own a lot of bands with seven syllable names, then you probably already own something by these guys, and maybe you want another one. Otherwise, you do not want.
— Friar Johnsen

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HELSTAR, 30 Years of Hel (2012, AFM)

The skull:
Helstar sure do love this horny skull, but unlike fellow past-their-prime thrashers Nuclear Assault, Helstar at least do us the courtesy of commissioning a fresh rendering of their goofy mascot every time they drop him on a cover. That’s about the only creative favor they do us, though, as every one of these covers is boring a lazy. Here they’ve situated the Helskul in front of the Aztec sun stone and made everything red. And that ancient calendar is given some motion blur, for some reason. The skull looks happy though, probably because he’s still got a job, and in this economy, that’s nothing to shake a stick at.

The music:
As Friar Wagner has documented elsewhere, Helstar are a band with an impressive legacy who are actually still reasonably good, and as he mentioned in his review of Glory of Chaos, they’re a genuinely excellent live band. 30 Years of Hel is the proper live album that ‘Twas the Night of a Helish X-mas wasn’t, and if the setlist isn’t as good (including, as it does, lots of lesser new stuff to go with the greater old stuff), at least the sound is much improved. Well, at least somewhat improved. This isn’t a bootleg-quality recording by any stretch, but it’s not particularly powerful, either. The band is tight as hell and James Rivera sounds as Riverian as ever, which is of course a mixed blessing. For as old as he is, and for as long as he’s been doing this, he’s still in undeniably great shape as a singer, but his tremulous warble, which was only barely tolerable in the 80s, has completely consumed him. The troughs of his vibrato could hold a dozen other singers. But if heavy metal’s own Ethel Merman doesn’t put you off, and you’re looking for a medium-good document of an above average nostalgia act from the 80s, I guess you could do worse than this.
— Friar Johnsen

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MERCYLESS, No Hay Paz (2008, KTC Domestic Productions)

The skull:
¿No hay paz? ¡No hay piel! ¡No hay ojos! La paz es el menor de mis problemas. ¡Mírame — soy un cráneo, un cráneo grande y estúpido! Yo existo sólamente en la portada de un CD de Mercyless, y no el grupo francesa, o incluso el grupo sueco que saben cómo deletrear. Te ha venido al hombre equivocado para quejarse de la paz.

The music:
This album, Mercyless’ debut, came out 4 years before yesterday’s Mundo Enfermo, and although the production is a bit shaggier, it’s basically similar sounding, although there’s a little more hardcore in their Hatebreed worship, and maybe even some d-beat. Sergio Saavedra’s vocals are worse (which I might have had difficulty imagining even yesterday), but if you listen to this kind of music, you’re completely immume to bad grunty singing. It might have made more sense for us to review these two albums in the proper chronological order, but The Council is largely unmotivated by the dictates of linear time.
— Friar Johnsen

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MERCYLESS, Mundo Enfermo (2012, KTC Domestic Productions)

The skull:
Seriously, how many album covers are just skulls photoshopped into brown, crumbling, plaster walls? Half of them? More? Mercyless clearly recognize that they’re working with a threadbare motif, which is why they added the clown wig. At least, that’s how I’m choosing to interpret the weird corona around the skull. Mundo Enfermo translates to Sick World, and as Patch Adams taught us, laughter (plus clown paraphernalia) is the best medicine.

The music:
Mercyless are basically the Spanish equivalent of Hatebreed, which is to say, they’re a hardcore band that also likes Slayer, but only kinda. They like the fast parts with the double bass and the riffs that are mainly just 16th notes on the open low string, but the tricky riffs or anything played on the skinny strings, they don’t care for. Lyrically, Mercyless are riled up like a political grindcore band, at least as far as I can tell with my limited Spanish, but they have a video that’s basically all footage of riots and burning police cars, and that’s alright. This is not something I ever need to hear again, but if you love Biohazard, hate the ECB, and speak Spanish, then this might be your jam.
— Friar Johnsen

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THANATOS, Beyond Terror (2002, Baphomet)

The skull:
Skulls gotta bathe too, and if you’re as filthy as this guy, you’re gonna need a couple dips, not to mention a stiff brush and some caustic lye soap. No need to worry about exfoliation (because you don’t have skin), or moisturizing (same), but do take care not to buff off the detail of your upside down ankh. Some kind of religious symbol on the forehead is all the decoration a lot of skulls get, so you’ll want to treat it well.

The music:
Thanatos’s Realm of Ecstasy is one of my favorite old-school death metal albums, so when the band got back together in the early 00s, I was pretty excited, but while their newer releases have all been pretty solid, none of them have come too terribly close to recapturing the special magic of Realm of Ecstasy. Part of the problem is that death metal changed a lot since 1992, but for some reason I didn’t expect Thanatos to update their sound at all. And to be fair, they didn’t update it much, which is to say they still held onto a lot of the thrash metal influences that defined early death metal. But they did update it some, and that means more blast beats, plus some regrettable high/low death metal vocal duets. If you can get past that shit, not to mention the cruddy sound, you’ll find that new Thanatos is still basically Thanatos. This is a quickie EP to follow their initial comeback, and it comes larded with some remakes and some covers (Possessed and Celtic Frost, natch), so it can’t really be called “essential,” but the originals are good (especially “Devour the Living”) and the covers are fine (if pointless, and cruddier sounding). If 1992 style death metal is your thing (and it should be) then you need to own some Thanatos. Obviously, start with Realm of Ecstasy, but if you like that, feel free to move on to their reunion stuff. You won’t be (too) disappointed.
— Friar Johnsen

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THUNDERSTONE, Dirt Metal (2009, Sony)

The skull:
This skull has it all, and when I say, “all,” I mean “all the shit that drives me crazy.” It’s crammed full of gears, tubes, and other cheap biomechanical nonsense, and it’s completely brown but somehow not with dirt, which might have actually justified the brownness vis-a-vis the album title. Like the music within, this cover is totally competent, probably expensive, and thoroughly uninteresting, the kind of pointlessness only Scandinavian-branch-of-a-major-label money can buy.

The music:
Thunderstone started as a cheap Stratovarius clone, but over the course of a handful of albums they’ve evolved into a cheap Symphony X clone (minus any trace of that band’s progressive leanings). They’re a perfectly fine, if utterly generic, prog/power band, with a great singer, strong playing, solid songs, and no spirit. If you’re a diehard of the genre, and you routinely spin DGM, At Vance, Bloodbound (the albums without Urban Breed), or Masterplan, then you’ll probably love this. It’s really a pretty good disc, assuming you either haven’t heard much other stuff like this, or you listen to nothing else. I happen to own enough stuff exactly like Dirt Metal that I’m not likely to buy it, but I would probably grab the disc if I saw it for a couple bucks in a used bin. I might never listen to it, but I wouldn’t exactly be ashamed to own it. If I ever found myself in the mood for modern power metal like this, though, I’d probably reach for some Nocturnal Rites, if only out of habit, because this is more or less as good as anything that band’s done post-Afterlife. It’s just no better, which is the problem.
— Friar Johnsen

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VELLOCET, Captive of Reality (1986, Snake)

The skull:
Eclipsing its sun, this planet-skull is about to be utterly bombarded by meteors, from all sides, at once, and he looks pretty fucking bummed about it. Here he is, thinking he’s just about settled into a stable orbit, ready to grind out the eons in peace, when all manner of interplanetary debris falls into his gravity well. “It would be one thing to endure a comet here, an asteroid there, but this is just fucking ridiculous,” thinks the lonely planet. But hey, cheer up: you might get a sweet Saturn-style ring out of the deal.

The music:
As the sticker proclaims, Vellocet features ex-VKJ members, which means fuck all to me. VKJ were evidently some kind of punk band, which makes sense, because Vellocet are straight-up crossover, but unlike some of the later bands in the style, it sounds like Vellocet arrived at the sound naturally. They probably just got heavier and heavier as a punk band until they basically turned into thrash. In particular, I can hear an undercurrent of early 80s British post-punk, like Killing Joke or New Model Army, informing the Vellocet sound, which distinguishes them from the better-known crossover bands who seem to have listened mainly to LA and NY hardcore. This is probably a bit too punk for me overall, but I like this considerably better than most crossover, and I’ll take this in a second over any of the jokey party thrash bands that are turning up every day in the wake of Municipal Waste’s success. The vocals are awesomely German, and the sound is beautifully 1986: I wouldn’t be surprised if Harris Johns were involved. This album appears to have resisted reissue so far, so if you’re the kind of thrash kid with a brand new upturned ST hat, this would be quite the feather to stick in it, to impress your jaded scenester friends who think they’ve heard it all, from Toxic Holocaust to Skeletonwitch.
— Friar Johnsen

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DOKKEN, Broken Bones (2012, Frontiers)

The skull:
Well, the artist at least broke, however subtly, the crossbones. I’ll give him that, and nothing more. This is one lazy-ass cover, but perfectly in keeping with the standards typical of anything bearing the name Don Dokken. The logo is (still) cool, and the colors are pretty, but clearly now I’ve entered the realm of “if you can’t say anything nice…” and saying nice things is not really my forte, so I’ll quit while I’m ahead.

The music:
God damn, Don Dokken sucks so bad. His voice is peerlessly bland and utterly without body or soul, and while I’m not going to say there’s never been a good Dokken tune, there’s absolutely never been a good Don Dokken performance. He’s one of these mysterious, talentless fucks who is a magnet for skilled musicians. Here he’s roped in some nameless but undoubtedly talented musicians to perform (and probably write, I’m guessing) his perfectly serviceable heavy AOR, all so he could dick it up with his barely whispered mewling. This approach almost works on the fastest, most engaging tunes like the opener “Empire,” but when Don is given a crunchy, bluesy number to anchor, as he is with “Blind,” he ruins it almost completely. To be fair, this is the kind of gutless hair metal stomper that probably only David Coverdale at his peak could redeem, but that makes Don’s attempt all the sadder. The pseudo-ballad “Burning Tears,” meanwhile, might really have been an affecting tune in the hands of the right singer (Michael Eriksen of Circus Maximus, say, or even Vanden Plas’ Andy Kuntz, who is basically the answer to the question, “What would Don Dokken sound like if he didn’t utterly blow?”) but Dokken’s passionless moaning nearly kills the tune. Honestly, I’m kind of surprised at how enjoyable the songwriting is here (for the most part), but I will never get over how this no-talent sleazewad ever landed a paying gig as a singer.
— Friar Johnsen

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CROSSFIRE, Second Attack (1985, Mausoleum)

The skull:
Another fine architectural skull, to go with my personal favorite, Overkill’s The Years of Decay. Really, you can’t go wrong with a mysterious temple for your cover (see also: Borrowed Time by Diamond Head), and if that temple is also a skull, you’re pretty much set. The best thing about this particular temple is, of course, the goofy eyes. I imagine the court architect building this thing and inviting the head priest to a private unveiling, and the priest saying, “Jeez, man, this is pretty scary. This is a place of worship – we don’t want to turn people off. Can you do anything to tone it down a little? I mean, the skull is totally cool, and I love how the stairs go right into the mouth, that’s great, but I think that people are gonna be too scared to even think about coming in.” And because the architect serves at the pleasure of his religious leaders, he accordingly toned down the menace of his work, but in the most passive-aggressive, ‘fuck you’ way possible: with big googly eyes. Had he found a classier solution, maybe he wouldn’t have been the first human sacrifice offered in the new temple.

The music:
This is some fairly awesome Accept-style speed metal from Belgium. I had heard of Crossfire before, and had probably listened to a song or two, but I had never committed to listening to an entire album before now, and I must say, this is excellent stuff. The music is pretty standard mid-80s Belgian fare, played tight and fast, but the songs are very well written and Peter DeWint’s vocals are amazing, reminding me a bit of Perry McCarty (Warrior). This being an album from 1985, there are a couple leaden ballads, but the faster tunes, like “Atomic War,” “Feeling Down,” and the title track are all winners. Honestly, I’ve never been a big Accept fan, mainly because I think Udo’s singing is the pits, but if Restless and Wild were fronted by this guy, it would probably be an all-time favorite of mine. Now I’ve got to find this on CD, along with the other Crossfire albums. I’m sure that won’t be a brutal wallet reaming…
— Friar Johnsen

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SHOW YOUR FACE, Unleash (2011, self-released)

The skull:
When I was a kid, sometimes in the course of my roughhousing I would knock down and break one of the dozens of decorative skulls that festooned our home (and which I assume are common in most American households), on discovery of which my mother would spank me and yell, rhetorically, “Do you think skulls grow on trees?” Well, if only I had this cover to answer her with, I could have increased the severity of the beating by at least 200%!

The music:
I always think of tough-guy metalcore as being a distinctly American phenomenon, with maybe some Germans getting involved. But never Greeks! Greeks should be making weirdo black metal or cheap-sounding prog metal or maybe retro true metal. It’s what they do best! Not that Show Your Face are bad at metalcore. They’re pretty good, actually, and their vision of metalcore is for sure a lot less floofy than the American standard. There are no clean vocals (although there are a few sorta “sung” moments, but the voice remains tough), and the lyrics don’t seem to be overly concerned with the singer’s pain. Show Your Face deal with pain, but only the kind they intend to inflict on other motherfuckers. Really, “metalcore” might be a bad label, but I don’t know what else to call this sort of thing. It’s somewhere between every modern descendent of Pantera and Hatebreed, with some melodic Swedish influences thrown in for good measure (without ever going full In Flames.) It’s all very well done, but still quite boring. About the only song that really did anything for me is the brief instrumental “Minus 56,” with its odd syncopated grooves and slinky tapped guitar line. For those 2 minutes, I’m almost willing to believe that Show Your Face could grow up and our of their adolescent rage. Maybe if I were a lot younger and considerably more angry, this kind of music would appeal to me, but as it is, I have very little interest in fucking shit up these days.
— Friar Johnsen