Author Archives: Friar Wagner

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RUNEMAGICK, Ancient Incantations (2001, Aftermath Music)

The skull:
Here’s an incantation for ya: “Oh Beelzebuth, lord of flies and prince of demons, do summon, through the most potent necromancy, and through the careful placing of runes under a violet moon, to thus invert the power of the white Christ, transfixed and transferred, unto mine goofy looking buck teeth, so that I may be a truly foreboding skull and cast this dorky-looking redneck-ish visage to the darkest past. And, if thou wouldst hear me, please also do make sure Aftermath Music sells every single copy of this most kult 7″ record, and with great haste, so that they may continue to release Runemagick album after Runemagick album after Runemagick album. I shall await your verdict and spell.”

The music:
This 7″ came out at the opportune time, marking Runemagick’s transition from a mostly death metal-leaning death/doom band to the more doom-centric death/doom they would master on 2002’s excellent Requiem of the Apocalypse. If that sounds like splitting hairs, it is, but it bears noting, because Runemagick’s sound became a more potent and memorable force as of Requiem (until they squandered it and bled it dry several albums down the road). Here we have demo material from earlier days, and it’s solid stuff that merges the otherworldly evil of traditional Swedish death metal with the doom-laden crawl that Autopsy favors. Runemagick’s doom runs deep and true, recalling the riffing style of Candlemass with some Trouble-like melodic choices occasionally, all of it played and recorded with a frustrating dryness. Ultimately it’s a bit uninspiring, save for the glorious climactic ending of “Dominion of the Necrogods.” As I said, they would find their muse with Requiem of the Apocalypse, and its successor Moon of the Chaos Eclipse. So this is a stop-gap sort of release, one that can hardly be considered mandatory unless you are a Nicklas Rudolfsson completist (he has also recorded with Deathwitch, Swordmaster, The Funeral Orchestra, and Sacramentum, among others).
— Friar Wagner

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DAETHLUST, The Deliverer  (2013, self-released)

The skull:
I was so hoping this was some art house-metal weirdness, because that’s exactly what it looks like. They’re actually stoner/sludge/doom, and more on that in a minute, but the juxtaposition of black and pink, with a hooded skull that looks like a borrowed still from one of the Blind Dead movies — it’s a different sort of skull cover, and a refreshing change of pace for the Skullection. Its arty pretension works for me, right down to the creepy scrawl of the album title, but I wonder if the white half circle is part of the actual artwork, or just one of those sticker dots that holds the CD inside the cardboard jacket? I don’t like this band enough to order it and find out.

The music:
5 songs, 36 minutes, and a sound that’s described as “psychedelic doom metal/stoner rock.” I wasn’t expecting much from these Germans, but they’re okay, especially if you can’t get enough stonery stuff. Still, it’s “in one ear and out the other” music at this early stage in the band’s development. The axis of this style is the guitar sound, and Daethlust’s tone is ultra-fat, out-fuzzing Kyuss at their best. Unsurprisingly, that band significantly informs Daethlust’s sound, along with early Monster Magnet, Motorhead, Egg Nog-era Melvins and early Nirvana. They’re barely metal, by my definition, but they do bring a heaving heaviness to the table, and there are enough metal touch points to slip them into the Skullection. Usually they’re just trudging through the footprints of the dinosaurs that went before them, but every now and then (as in the break and following softer moment in “Satin”) they get something interesting going. But 90% of the time they’re derivative, and with something like “Hash,” they’re epically dull. They deliver it all in earnest, and they’re young, so maybe they’ll find their own certain something pretty soon.
— Friar Wagner

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BLOODRIDE, Promo 2007  (2007, demo)

The skull:
These Finns are wholly dedicted to the skull. Of their five various releases, four feature some form of skull. The Supreme Predator “single” features a sabertooth skull; amongst the various animal skulls we see here at BDSHQ, it’s one of the most popular animal variations (second only to the longhorn steer). Bloodride have done their part for human skull covers too, which is why the Council, in a rare bout of generosity, have allowed two Bloodride entries into the hallowed Skullection (309 was the first). This one puts the BIG in Big Dumb Skull: we barely see the left eye socket, and there’s no dental work showing, but we know it’s a skull, there can be no doubt of it! The colors make it feel sorta Christmas-y. Just in time, boys! The image is broken into four sections, which is curious, and makes me wonder if this is a closeup of one of the band members’ custom kitchen tile pattern. If so, I need that tile-setter’s number, now.

The music:
Friar Johnsen went into greater detail on Bloodride’s sound in his earlier review of the band’s Crowned in  Hell album, and I can only reprint his views here: “The sound of thrash that’s been reverse-engineered by death metal kids after they hear Bonded By Blood,” sayeth the good Friar. I cannot put it any better than that. It’s all capably delivered, which is no surprise considering these boys are Finnish. Still, who listens to this sort of thing? Adding to the annoyance of Bloodride’s approach are the guitars, which are chunked out in a way that Machine Head fans could relate to. Compositionally these three songs are similar to the kind of early ’90s fourth-rate demo-level Sepultura  wanna-bes that you’d hear a lot back then, or if you can image a hipster-metal/modern aggro version of Acrophet. See? Not at all worth your while.
— Friar Wagner

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TOTENBURG, Endzeit  (2009, Nebelfee Klangwerke)

The skull:
A warming, homey sort of design as you might see adorning a panel of an antique porcelain stove. Gramma Rosenstein has one of these stoves, and she makes the most delightful challah. That’s a cute little bow tieing up the crossbones too. C’mon gramma, fire it up and…oh wait…Totenburg sing about what? And they’re German? Oops. Sorry, gramma. Not funny.

The music:
These guys play black metal delivered with a militaristic mid-paced churn, and when they take it above 100 mph, they do it with great ability, all clanging ride cymbals and mad blizzards of trebly guitar. They’re pretty okay at what they’re doing, but lose me totally with their NS/white power bullshit. Luckily the lyrics are in German, so if you aren’t too PC about this sort of thing, and you like Endstille and Marduk and need yet more average-but-adequate black metal in your musical diet, you would probably find some enjoyment in their brand of hateful noise. They’ve been doing it since 1998 and, quite likely because they are, politically, a bunch of assholes, nobody’s really taking much notice as of yet.
— Friar Wagner

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METALLICA, Harvester of Sorrow  (1988, Vertigo)

The skull:
Although he would become one of the most copied rock culture artists ever, the wanna-bes have yet to dilute the greatness of Pushead in his prime. One of the most frequent tools in Pus’s kit was bone; bones ripped from all over the skeleton. Here we have but one skull, qualifying it for inclusion in the Skullection. It’s a fine one too. In the hands of a lesser talent, this could have looked pretty stupid, a fist punching through the top of a skull, holding scales (scales of justice, apparently). The skull looks absolutely wrecked from this probably quite painful ordeal. And there are bandages too. Pushead loved bandage as much as he loved bone. It’s not clear if it’s the arm or skull’s neck that’s bandaged, maybe both, but it kinda looks like neither. I’m thinking the skull is resting on a bandaged tree stump. Yeah, shit gets pretty surreal in Pushead-world. And who knows from where the hand originates? Best not to question these things. I’ll bet it was the record label’s decision to lay this image over the crinkled black stuff in the background. Probably pissed Pushead off at time, but then again, record labels have done much, much worse to desecrate an artist’s version. An A- then.

The music:
Little band outta L.A./San Fran here, never quite got the recognition they deserved. Sound sorta like Gaskin. This 12″ single from 1988 features one of the least interesting songs from that same year’s …And Justice for All, although even the worst on this album is listenable, serviceable, clinical thrash, or in this song’s case, half-thrash. This is one of those Metallica songs that buckles down at half speed and attempts something throbbing, or at least, with its infamous “implied bass” production, let’s say “heavy” instead of throbbing. And it achieves that aim, succeeding as a solid example of where the guys’ heads where at in 1988 and where they would go next. And with Metallica, the good and the bad, you always get a ton of personality from each player. I’ll always stand up for Lars Ulrich’s drumming. He’s not a technical mastermind, but he’s got what many clinicians lack: style and character. His approach is a huge ingredient for what makes Metallica Metallica. People who say they wish Metallica had a better drummer are nuts; it would no longer be Metallica. James Hetfield delivers some of his best lyrics with a menacing sneer, and the solo is one of Kirk Hammett’s most direct, sounding like it was lifted from the Kill ‘Em All sessions. He lays off the wah pedal for once, delivering a short and sweet passage that’s more thematic than solo-y. Favorite moment: James snarling “infanticiiiide.” Elsewhere on the EP, Metallica prove my opinion that they are the best cover band of all time. About 95% of the songs they choose to cover end up sounding absolutely fresh in their re-molded state (one of the best but least known is their bold reinterpretation of Iron Maiden’s “Remember Tomorrow”). The b-side of this slab contains two killer covers: the systematic rape of and power infusion given to Budgie’s “Breadfan” and a totally majestic treatment of Diamond Head’s “The Prince.” So lookie here, an addition to the Skullection boasting a truly killer skull on the cover and equally high-quality music inside. A rare convergence! (Incidentally, I believe Friar Johnsen will be saying the same thing of Overkill’s The Years of Decay, skull328, which comes before this one, but which I have not read yet.) The Council are getting drunk on mead, guzzled out of mugs made of human skulls, of course…these are high times for Big Dumb Skulls!
— Frair Wagner

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VIO-LENCE, Nothing to Gain  (1993, Bleeding Hearts)

The skull:
This album was eventually reissued later with a mushroom cloud on the cover, but c’mon, that’s such an overused image! Now a skull, there’s something you don’t see every day. Here, a skull is superimposed over the Earth. Rad! Along with skulls sporting horns/antlers, skulls embedded in rock walls, and the ol’ skull ‘n’ crossbones, skulls in/on Earth are now an official Big Dumb Skulls Subset. (See the Arbitrater skull, Skull232). Apparently this album title is a pessimistic comment on the human plight, telling us there’s nothing to gain; that for all our progress, all our fighting, bickering and money-making, there’s nothing to gain, that death will greet us all, rendering everything we do pointless. Including creating album covers with skulls on them and writing a blog about album covers with skulls on them. Oh, the humanity…

The music:
This album was recorded in 1990 but didn’t find release until thrash reached its commercial nadir in 1993. But even in 1990, despite featuring all five members from the prior two Violence (or Vio-lence) albums, the band took a turn toward groove and slower tempos, a la Forbidden’s Green or Sepultura’s Chaos A.D. Those two albums don’t matter much to me, and I don’t like Nothing to Gain very much either. The energy and mania of their first two are in rare supply here, capped by the uncharacteristically mundane delivery of vocalist Sean Killian. If you’ve heard the earlier albums, you’ll no doubt agree that Killian was anything but mundane. (They band were killer live, too. Saw them twice on the first album tour and will never forget either show.) Sure, they were aligning with the zeitgest of 1990 with this more corralled/controlled sort of sound, and they weren’t the only Cali-thrash band to work at slower paces come the 1990s, but this is not a great album by any stretch. It’s not entirely worthless either. Perry Strickland is a killer drummer, proven by some seriously bad-ass syncopation in “Twelve Gauge Justice.” This song most resembles the band’s older, faster material, and comes after opener “Atrocity,” a dull crawler of a track. “Atrocity” is inconceivably bland, a difficult thing to sit through at a seemingly eternal 5:02. It’s arguably worse than the worst moments from Overkill’s I Hear Black or Testament’s The Ritual. You get where this album is going, right? On the plus side, Nothing to Gain features some cool mid-tempo rifferamas, insane whammy-excessive guitar solos, and Strickland’s terrific drumming. But even at its best, there’s something flawed in the production, all cheap and clunky sounding. A punchier, tighter sound would have been more appropriate for the groove that infests this album, although I’m not actually endorsing that sort of jump-metal nonsense. (It’s no surprise where Robb Flynn would go, “artistically,” after exiting Vio-lence.) And let’s go back to Killian, who sounds normal throughout much of the album. Killian? “Normal?” WTF? But I dunno, I’ve lost a few degrees of enthusiasm for this band over the years. As much as I like the first two albums, the gang vocals seem less attractive as time goes on, so even those I have to go into all prepared, fully in the mood for some ripped-jeans ‘n’ white-high-tops thrash. That mood happens occasionally too, but more often I’ll travel south of heaven for Dark Angel or Kreator…so there’s very little chance I’d ever be more in the mood for Nothing to Gain over Eternal Nightmare or Oppressing the Masses. Yes, what we have here is just another sub-par but not-entirely-crappy post-thrash album from those confusing 1990s.
— Friar Wagner

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HELSTAR, Rising From the Grave  (2010, Metal Blade)

The skull:
This bad boy is pretty stock: a horned skull apparently taken from a 9th grader’s notebook cover, its horns wrapped around a five-pointed star. There isn’t much to say about it. Best thing about the cover is it invokes a bit of Texas metal history (“Texas Metal, Est. 1982”) and exalts the fact that Helstar have been at this forever. Which is why they deserve a better album cover than this. It’s not even a real Helstar album, it’s a boxed set, but considering it holds two of their all-time classics…can we get a better cover design for this one please? Dang it. Even as a patch or tshirt or tattoo, I wouldn’t stich it, wear it or have its ink shot into my flesh with a needle. I’m glad I own the two studio albums in question, that way I don’t have to have this low-rent box set artwork littering my racks. Enough of that already.

The music:
This is a box set collecting two Helstar studio albums and a live one: 1988’s A Distant Thunder, 1989’s Nosferatu, and later live album, the clumsily-titled ‘Twas the Night of a Helish X-mas, originally released in 2000 but recorded in the earlier Nosferatu era. Let’s work backwards. With ‘Twas the Night blah blah blah, you can clearly hear that Helstar was an amazing live band back then (as they are now), but you wouldn’t believe it if this was your only evidence. Great performance but a shitty recording and equally disadvantageous mix. It’s far less worthy of being in this box set than Multiples of Black would have been (talk about “rising from the grave”) or of being released as a stand-alone album, as it was in 2000. Ahh, wait…I think I just discovered how Metal Blade solved the problem of getting rid of the last couple thousand they had in their warehouse…clever, guys, very clever.

Nosferatu is an album people have mistaken as a speed/thrash album, and even as a tech/prog album. It doesn’t exactly sit perfectly in those classifications, but they did ramp up the intensity and technicality for Nosferatu, so it certainly touches on those areas. It’s really just a more hi-octane Helstar than what came before, but so fussily questing for perfection that it feels a bit stiff ‘n’ cold in certain moments. That said, some of the band’s most engaging material is here (“Baptized in Blood,” “Harker’s Tale”), and any fan of, you know, metal, should really check it out.

Finally, if you purchase this box set because you love that cover art so much, you better be prepared to spin A Distant Thunder at least 100 times. The first 10 will help you acclimate to it. And least, that’s what I needed, as I found it to have much less instant appeal than their easy-to-get-into first couple albums. It’s not overly complex, certainly not on the Nosferatu level, it’s just not overly direct. It might grab you right away, but it took me years to realize its greatness. Once it took hold, though, it had to share space with Burning Star when considering which Helstar album is best. Stuff like “The King is Dead,” “Abandon Ship” and “Winds of War” are stellar examples of primo Texas epic/power/heavy metal, with the distinctive James Rivera ripping it up on vocals. Unfortunately they chose the wrong song to cover from Scorpions’ Taken By Force. “He’s a Woman (She’s a Man)” is totally out of place on A Distant Thunder; the clear winner would have been “The Sails of Charon,” but they did ask me, did they?
— Friar Wagner

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HELLEMENTS, Time Machine  (2010, demo)

The skull:
Two dudes walk into a Spencer’s in some Italian mall. They see a wall clock with a skull and crossbones on the clock face. One guy says “Rad! Maybe I’ll buy that.” The other guy responds: [and, get ready, this is the punchline] “Yeah…we can use it for our album cover.”

The music:
Clearly it’s a dodgy album cover. And the album title is a lame pun on the lame album cover. And if “Hellements” is some sort of play on the word “elements,” its cleverness is lost on us. And geezus, did they really have to give the capital “H” a devil tail and Cheshire Cat smile? Doesn’t exactly get you all psyched to hear what this band has to offer. Luckily it’s a mercilessly short three song demo and not a double concept album manifesto. What we have here is traditional heavy metal crossing over to German-sounding power metal, with some Metallica-circa-1986 riffing minus the innovation and a heavily-accented vocalist who possesses an unlistenable warble. This warble ranges from completely unremarkable talk-singing (because he has trouble reaching most notes) and cringeworthy attempts to occasionallly introduce a Michael Kiske squeakiness on top of all this. There are some ham-fisted attempts at Iron Maiden-esque dual leads, and yet some solo leads fly out with laudable precision, but this is nothing you need, even for those of you with a taste for the most execrable of power metal bands. This is metal for little kids…and even some of those would find this intolerable.
— Friar Wagner

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WARPATH, Malevolent Reprisal  (2010, Underground Movement)

The skull:
A scowling skull decked out for war, backed up by quite the arsenal: all manner of gun, knife, blade and, uh, bear trap. It looks incredibly imposing, but maybe what we’re really dealing with is comparable to those guys that drive huge monster trucks because they have a small penis. That’s the psychological theory, anyway, and I’ll bet something like that is going on with this guy.

The music:
Here’s another metal moratorium worth proposing: no more using the Gladiator sample “at my signal, unleash hell.” It’s been done probably a hundred times. I know it must have seemed like a great a idea the first time (it was), but by now, using this sample is totally beat. Now, to the music: Warpath play Brutal Blasting Irish Death Metal exclusively! It’s like Dying Fetus meets Malevolent Creation meets Bolt Thrower stripped of any distinguishing personality. Technically they’re proficient, and they’re extremely heavy, but as well-performed as it is, Warpath cannot save themselves from slotting in shoulder-to-shoulder with the many vanilla-flavored brutal death hordes out there. You have to admire the conviction and ability, but that’s about all you have to do before forgetting this ever happened and moving onto something actually worth spending time with. Definitely gonna dock a point or two for their decision to cover Hatebreed. Ugh.
— Friar Wagner

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UNDERGANG, Indhentet Af Doden (2011, Xtreem Music)

The skull:
He so horny! Of all the horned skulls in the Skullection — perhaps our largest subset — Mr. Undergang here is the horniest of them all. I count 12 horns protruding from this guy’s noggin. There’s nearly one horn for every spear plunging into the guy’s head space, 11 spears in fact, and while balance would have been nice at an even 12, they’re doing the job and keeping this gnarly bastard from getting into any more trouble. All manner of wraith-like visages look on, either in amusement or mocking grins, as if to say “not so fast, Horndog!” You get the feeling this guy’s seen better days, falling from grace as a Prince of Hell or a Lord of the Underworld or some such distinction. Here, he’s met his match. Still, one sharp snap of the head to the left or right, you’d think maybe those toothpick-thin spears would be rendered useless. I’d like to imagine Undergang’s next album shows us the next panel in this saga, with Horny breaking free of his bonds and kicking unholy ass on all those wise-ass specters. (It doesn’t, but it does feature about 30 non-horned skulls impaled on spears, so there’s at least some kind of thematic continuity.)

The music:
This album kinda caught fire. It was originally released in 2010 as a promo cassette in a mere 100 copies, but in short order got scooped up by two different labels and, by the next year, was pressed onto vinyl and CD. It seems to have been deserving of all that attention. Undergang have quietly been banging away with some of the most distinctive old-school-esque death metal while everyone else rips off Entombed/Dismember ad nauseam. They take the heavier road, always, mixing the aesthetics of early Napalm Death with the ridiculously bloated churning of bands like Rottrevore and Mortician, all played with the skill of any halfway decent Swedeath practitioner you care to name. Everything is lllooowww as fuck: gruff vocals from way deep down in a pit and an incredibly fat guitar sound like the roar of 15 tractor engines. If you ever wondered what it would sound like if Incantation recorded Bolt Thrower songs in Sunlight Studio with the guy from Pan-Thy-Monium on vocals, here you go.
— Friar Wagner