Tag Archives: earring

SKULL572

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TÖRR, Kladivo Na Čarodějnice (1993, Monitor)

The skull:
Törr love the Big Dumb Skull. I mean, they really love it. This compilation cover is basically the same as their first demo, with the logo moved up a bit to obscure less of the skull, and that’s why we chose it, but several of their other albums feature skulls that are even bigger and dumber. For all I know, “Törr” is Czech for Skull. In fact, that’d be so great that I’m just going to assume it’s true, without doing any research that might disprove it. Anyway, this guy looks positively crestfallen, so bummed out, but he’s got so much going on. I want to say, “Hey man, dry your eye holes! You’re a skull! You’re big and dumb, and I mean that in the best way. You’ve got fangs! You’ve got crossbones! You’ve got an upside-down cross earring, for fuck’s sake! You’re the star of the show, alone on a black background! Do you know how many skulls are forced to languish on fields of scratchy brown nonsense? How many skulls are forced to share the stage with Photoshopped snakes and cheap looking fire? You’re drawn by hand, you’re a total badass, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise!”

The music:
If you find yourself in a place with a lot of dudes in denim vests covered in patches, at least one of those vests will sport a Törr patch. And that’s about as much as I knew about Törr before now. I guess I always assumed they were a black metal band of low fidelity and repute. Instead, they’re a kind of weird Czech band (which, I realize, is something of a redundant description) who play a thrashy heavy metal with a serious Venom/Bathory influence. It’s not super aggressive, and it’s not particularly extreme. And I like it! They’re kind of like a light Czech Sodom (and if you find yourself listening to some of their later stuff, like Tempus Fugit, the notion that Törr is just a straight-up translation of Sodom to Czech is inescapable). This release is a compilation of re-recorded tracks from the band’s early days, and while most bands of this sort, if they had the chance to re-record their demos, would make them heavier, bigger, more, but Törr instead opted to clean everything up a little bit, and while the rawness that defined the original material is more or less polished away, what’s left is a refined take on what was evidently a little more sophisticated than anyone might have imagined. From what I can tell, the band got heavier again after this, and rawer, so maybe they didn’t like the way these tunes came out the second time, but personally, I think they work well.
— Friar Johnsen

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KRANK, Ugly Right to the Bone  (2010, Retrospective)

The skull:
I’d like to think that this skull is sporting a gold earring in its left, uh, “ear.” The bone of the skull may be deteriorating, and the cause of death is obvious (those look like bullet holes skidding along the top of his dome) but the earring remains to communicate to one and all: “Even in death I am a cheeseball.” Yes, I’d like to think it’s an earring and not some gold hole in the metal plate(s) behind him, so I’m gonna go with it.

The music:
Like so many other metal fans, I have a deep affinity for classic ’80s era Metal Blade. Not just the many great bands they signed, but the artwork (good and bad), the compilations, even the simple label design on the old vinyl records (first tan, then silver). Hugely nostalgic and still totally relevant. Krank’s Hideous is not one of Metal Blade’s finer moments. In fact, it’s one of its worst. (I know — I bought it in 1986, which was, perhaps not incidentally, the year I stopped buying absolutely everything Metal Blade released.) There isn’t a more aptly-titled album either. Fast forward nearly 25 years and we find Krank peddling that same clanky, go-nowhere metal that’s about as appealing as the idea of sucking a hermaphrodite’s cock in an alley behind L.A.’s Gazzari’s while a totally smashed-on-whisky Nitro plays inside. If there was ever a band that had no business attempting to regain its former non-glory, Krank is it. This album is nearly unlistenable. If you want to hear a vocalist that makes Vince Neil sound like Pavarotti and a band that write tunes so insipid it makes Girls Girls Girls sound like Dark Side of the Moon, you might want to check out Krank immediately! Finally, in my delving of metal’s grossest gutters, looking for a copy of Ugly Right to the Bone to listen to, someone on Youtube, apparently without any irony, says “Krank has always been one of my favorite metal bands.” Seriously, that’s what they said. You can’t make that shit up.
— Friar Wagner

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BLACK JACK, Five Pieces of Eight  (1985, Metal For Melbourne)

The skull:
This is the second skull cover I’ve seen this week that includes a hovering pistol. (And that’s a sentence I have never before typed in my life.) But everything’s levitating here: the gun, the sword, the skull itself — although skulls do lots of floating around these parts. The image is made complete by the headband, earring and eyepatch, even if the latter is functionless on a skull. The dude is clearly out for revenge, ready to kill those who glanced that cannonball off his head and took some bone off the top. And check out the extra contrivance of an ear bone, an artistic prosthesis of sorts, so the skull could sport an earring. Muhfugga’s crazy! This skull has all the goods to rape and pillage on the high seas…except a ship.

The music:
Back in 1983 when Running Wild were still singing about evil, hell, and the occult, this band from Melbourne, Australia quietly invented the genre that Running Wild gets credited with founding: pirate metal. Their ’83 demo flys the Jolly Roger right there on the tape cover and features songs like “Crusader’s Revenge” and “Spanish Lover,” back when Rock ‘n’ Rolf’s only knowledge of a “Jolly Roger” was the gay bar down the street in Hamburg. Black Jack released this EP in 1985 and continued the pirate theme. “Man at Arms” is doom-laden and dirgy, with some loping, soaring guitar leads, and the guy’s pretty good, although the song itself meanders. They pick up the pace on “Highwayman’s Inn” (clunky NWOBHM-style stuff) while “Hot Rocket” pairs terrible lyrics with even worse vocals. The playing is sufficient, and the lead guitarist better than that. The energy is high too, but the recording is downright dire. A bit of a shambles, really, and something for only the most indiscriminate lover of metal obscurities. Ultimately its 25 minutes soar by in a fog of uselessness. On a historical basis, you gotta hail Black Jack, the true founders of Pirate Metal! (Or “Damn you Black Jack!” if you think the whole pirate metal thing is totally fucking silly.)
— Friar Wagner