Tag Archives: flowers

SKULL637

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THE NEW BLACK, III: Cut Loose (2013, AFM)

The skull:
Sure, this was pulled straight out of the big design folder at a local tattoo shop, the page stained with drool and tobacco smoke, but if nothing else, this is the first BDS to prominently feature hummingbirds, so, congratulations are in order, I guess, to The New Black, who also hereby make their second appearance in the Skullection. Truth be told, their first album is also fronted by a big dumb skull, but I think we’re about sick of this stupid band, so the morbidly curious will have to Google that shit for themselves if they want to fully trace the origins and development of The New Black Big Dumb Skull.

The music:
The New Black are the sort of totally boring band who could be national stars if they were from Finland. They’re unfortunately from Germany, so it’s unlikely they’re huge in their home country, but I guess you never know. They have the glossy, shitty sound of a band trying to rope in a mainstream audience with something nominally “metal” but still totally safe, as if mixing Volbeat and Papa Roach were a viable creative strategy, or if the problem with Black Sabbath is that they sound insufficiently like The Foo Fighters. TNB (as I’m sure they’d like me to call them) are total pros, of course, but they’re also completely soulless. I’d rather listen to nazi black metal from France (not really, but please allow me the hyperbole) because at least those idiots believe in something and are making music for reasons that are not transparently commercial. You can imagine a songwriter in The New Black thinking, “Man, this riff would totally KILL in a video game or an energy drink commercial! The opportunities for cross-market synergy are just off the charts here!” If your main source for new music recommendations is VH1, then maybe The New Black could totally be your jam, but if you’re a metalhead with (some) dignity and self-respect, you won’t listen to this pap.
— Friar Johnsen

SKULL619

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KILLERS, Mise aux Poings 2001 (2001, Brennus)

The skull:
It looks cheap, but this cover works for me for some reason. Probably the green. Green and flowers are not very heavy, so you don’t see them too much on metal covers, but Killers don’t give a shit. They said to the president of their label, “Nous voulons des fleurs, et de jolis verts et jaunes. Ajouter un crâne, si vous devez,” and, sipping from his glass of wine, the president replied, “Il doit en être ainsi.”

The music:
This is the French Killers, not the Paul Di’Anno project of the early 90s, and Mise aux Poings is, you will not be surprised to learn, a re-recording (made in 2001) of their 1987 album of the same name (minus the year, of course.) Why they did this, I cannot say. It sure as hell wasn’t to improve on the cover, because the original had an awesome angry bird on it. Not that kind of Angry Bird. As for the tunes, I haven’t heard the original version, but this newer one is not a great-sounding album, and it’s not at all modern sounding (2001 modern, I mean). Also, it’s hard to imagine that this singer was somehow worse when he was younger, but maybe one of the other guys, like the drummer, really blew on the original. I’d have guessed that maybe it was an issue of rights or something, but the same label that issued this reissued the original as well in the late 90s. So, who knows, or cares? It’s a very solid album, at least. Killers are a pretty good French speed/power metal whose main problem is that they sing in French. I have nothing against the French language, or non-English metal, but French is almost entirely unsuitable to heavy metal. Czech? Sure. Russian? You bet! Faroese? I’m in! But the romance languages fare rather poorly in metallic applications, generally speaking (and I make that final concession merely out of politeness – I have never yet heard le metaux français that wouldn’t have been better en anglais.) If you wish ADX were a little more polished and melodic, or if you wish Sortilege were a bit faster and heavier, then Killers is the band for you. If that last sentence didn’t make any sense to you, then you’re off the hook on this one.
— Friar Johnsen

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DOGBANE, Residual Alcatraz  (2011, Heaven and Hell)

The skull:
Sometimes a skull can’t win. They don’t really have a say in the modeling jobs they get, at least, not at this level, and I’m pretty sure this guy hated every minute he had to pose for this winner of a portrait. He’s likely too macho to appreciate the Apocynum that surround him (they look like lilacs but are toxic, which I guess is why these dudes thought this was a great band name), but it was the tattooing of that lame band name on his forehead, in some sort of last-minute non-logo design, that really got him upset. Then he looked down at the album title and got so hot under the collar he lost his shit (ie. spontaneous combustion): “Residual Alcatraz? What the flying fuck is that supposed to mean???” He was given no answer, was paid his $20, and got outta there, hoping for a gig with Black Label Society next time around.

The music:
Dogbane’s music isn’t much better than their chintzy album cover art, lame band name and super-dumb album title. They sound like Demolition-era Judas Priest meets any given NWOBHM band’s mediocre “comeback” album (there are lots — take your pick)…but clunkier (look no further than the mess of second song, “Born to Die”). I love traditional heavy metal when it’s done right, which usually means the old stuff, before it got old enough to recycle. And it’s this sort of recycling that bands like Dogbane specialize in. I know: good songs are good songs, and it doesn’t necessarily have to be original if you’ve got ’em. Unfortunately Dogbane doesn’t got ’em.
— Friar Wagner

SKULL306

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ORODRUIN, Epicurean Mass (2003, Psychedoomelic)

The skull:
Though they originally issued the album with a terrible blue mirrored image on the cover, Orodruin wisely decided to retool with a Big Dumb Skull for the 2009 digipack reissue. This cover is also shitty and blue with a mirrored image, but at least there’s a skull dropped nonsensically on top. Epicureanism is often conflated with hedonism, or at the very least with gourmandism, but the teachings of Epicurus stressed moderation and self-control. Epicurus himself was vegetarian. His was also a materialist philosophy that rejected the supernatural and divine, so the very idea of an Epicurean Mass is a bit oxymoronic. But, having failed to do their research, Orodruin cooked up a fantasy of a gluttonous rite that ends in death for the participants, a kind of Masque of the Fat Death. Maybe they should have made the skull chubbier, then.

The music:
Sludgy doom with an epic feel, heavily indebted to Sabbath without being a slavish copy. Think: Gates of Slumber and Reverend Bizarre, although Orodruin work the trippy 70s vibe a bit more heavily than either of those bands, and incorporate less traditional 80s metal into their sound. I’m also reminded in places of Krux, although Mike Puleo is no Mats Levin. While I find this sort of music rather dull, I’m not about to say Orodruin are a bad band. If they were a little less fuzzy, a little less sloppy, and if their songs and singing were a little better, they’d almost be as good as early While Heaven Wept, which is more my kind of doom. This is also the band’s first album, and although it’s ten years old, it’s still their only full length release. I guess for some guys, it takes a long time to write a slow song, and with as much time as they’ve had to work on their follow-up, maybe the next one will be awesome.
— Friar Johnsen

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EARTHRIDE, Something Wicked (2010, Earth Brain)

The skull:
Surrounded by flowers, bugs, and branches, a ghostly skull with enormous eyes blends into the grass. Maybe the skull is the grass. Woah. Think about it, man. I mean, like, really think about it. You know?

The music:
Fuzzed-out bellbottom doom, like Obsessed meets Electric Wizard, but worse. The singing is terrible, and the guitar tone approaches “all-time-worst.” You can practically hear the mustaches, too. Every now and then they land on a chord progression with some genuine mystery, but the execution and sound are so rotten that those few fleeting moments of inspiration are squandered in a haze of Sunn amplification and poorly doubled vocals. If I never hear another album like this, it’ll be too soon, but I bet it’ll happen in less than two weeks anyway.
— Friar Johnsen