In Praise of Witchery

Thanks to No Clean Singing and their Eye Catcher series, I had heard of Witchery, but my buddy John turned me on to them last night with a very simple phrase: "they remind me a lot Arch Enemy." It's been four years since they put out an album - although they have another one coming out this summer - so I'm a little behind on the game, but thus far I'm digging what I hear: its thrashy, it's got some death touches, and it's got enough variation to keep things interesting. The Arch Enemy comparison is apt - although Witchery isn't quite as melodic - not only because of the production, but because like the Amott brothers, these guys aren't above cribbing a line or two from the catalogs of others. "Cannonfodder," for example, has a few moments that are almost pure Slayer:



While the entrance to the bridge of "Stigmatized" could have come from the intro to "Am I Evil":



In other words, these guys make for a good rocking out time, but they're not out to break any boundaries. Sounds about right for a Friday afternoon, if you ask me.

Limited Edition Knock Off

To continue the commentary on the artwork for Demonoir: 1349 announced a limited edition version of the album - available both on CD and as picture disc vinyl - with different artwork, displayed below:

Now, I'll not be the one to bash the use of a skull in art, particularly one that seems to rely on the always-excellent elements of blood and fire to keep its shattered form. However, I get a feeling that the artist might have drawn inspiration from the cover of a well-known member of metal's catalog:

It's not quite a rip off, but it's not exactly original, either.

Fun With Pandora

We're playing this track because it features hard rock roots, electronica influences, punk influences, a subtle uses of vocal harmony, varying tempo and time signatures, repetitive melodic phrasing, demanding instrumental part writing, a vocal-centric aesthetic, a clear focus on recording studio production, heavy syncopation, minor key tonality, a dirty electric guitar solo, a gravelly male vocalist, an aggressive male vocalist, an unintelligible vocal delivery, intricate arranging and many other similiarities identified in the Music Genome Project.

For those of you unfamiliar with Pandora, the above is taken from one of the justification descriptions the software offers you when it plays a track. Writing about the odd things kicked up by an algorithm is like shooting fish in a barrel, but I can't really resist: based on that description, you'd think I'm listening to some sort of jazz fusion piece with a hypersexualized guitarist ("dirty electric guitar solo"? Really?), or maybe something really, really post-punk. The real answer: Zyklon's "Transcendental War - Battle Between Gods." Then it played a cover of "Dead Skin Mask" while showing me an ad for a dentist who I will never, ever want to visit.

As the Palaces Burned: Testament - The Gathering

On September 24, 1991 Nirvana released Nevermind. Nine years later, a reunited Iron Maiden played Madison Square Garden. The time in between was one of metal's bleaker periods, where the genre's mainstream face all but disappeared and it retreated not just underground, but underwater. To celebrate the rare gems of this dark time - and remember our fortune now that metal has ceased to be such a dirty word - we're launching As the Palaces Burned, a weekly series published every Wednesday that will cover metal albums of note released between 1991 and 2000.

Testament.......I labored over this band, and how to approach their AtPB entry. I mean where to begin? Skolnick's last album with the band, 1992's grungy The Ritual? Their experiments with Pantera-esque modernization on Low?

Well, Low is a great under-appreciated album, but I'm not going to go there. The Ritual has some very funny moments that need to be written about, but that will be in my upcoming series about Metal bands who released Grunge albums in the 90s.

No, we're going to cover Testament when they were in the same position Voivod was in my column last week. Having been dropped and relegated to the CMC International/Spitfire records purgatory, a brand new lineup of Testament decided the best approach would be to modernize and play more of that death metal the kids are always talking about. Now Chuck Billy and Eric Peterson were well set up for this, with the secret weapon Gene Hoglan on drums, and a great working knowledge of the underground. However despite some great moments 1997's Demonic is not a great album. The approach is a bit generic. Some songs are great are still played in concert, such as "The Burning Times". Here, have a quick listen. It's good!



But the whole record isn't great, and doesn't make the cut as a lost classic.

Plagued with yet more lineup changes, Chuck Billy and Eric Peterson "gathered" (get it?) all their friends together. Grabbing no less than two ex-members of Death (James Murphy and Steve DiGiorgio) plus Dave Lombardo from Slayer, Testament released one hell of a war cry with The Gathering in 1999. To me it is a unifying statement which best sums up everything the band had been trying to say since Low. The aggression level is even higher than Demonic without that album's generic riffing. The thrash is back in full force but with the added power of Billy's newfound growl. Topping the whole album off with a delicious satanic cherry was the production of Andy Sneap, now recognized as the gifted master of aggressive recording.

Anyone who returned to the band with The Formation of Damnation needs to go back and fall in love with The Gathering. Starting with "DNR", still a favorite in modern set lists, you are hearing a band at the height of their Metal powers. The way thrash and death metal are so seamlessly merged on this record may seem pretty textbook now, but this is the band and the album from which those textbooks were written. And not enough can be said about the subtle virtuosity, especially in DiGiorgio's smooth yet violent bass playing. If there was ever any recorded document that Testament never deserved their reputation as Metallica-lite this is the album.

But enough tell, here's some show:

Sewn Shut Eyes!



DNR (Do Not Resuscitate)



Eyes of Wrath



And the song which should have been the "hit," True Believer. I think this was on the soundtrack to one of the Saw movies.......

Mid-Week Video Fun

Because it's Wednesday, no metal news has yet caught my eye, and unlikely mashups are funny. Presenting: Sesame Street playing Slayer's "Dittohead."

Album Review: Goatwhore - Carving Out the Eyes of God

The first time I put on "Apocalyptic Havoc," the first track of Goatwhore's latest release, I felt something magical: that sonic kick in the head, sought by many, achieved by few, that denotes a truly heavy piece of music. The production on that track is a relentless pummeling of thrashy riffage that sits like a fat band choking the sonic spectrum, carrying rhythm section and Slayer-vintage guitar solos in its wake, while the dry crust of singer L. Ben Falgoust II's voice floats on the top like a dessicated leaf on a sea of blood. Even better, the effect is no one time wonder: junkie-like, I've returned to get additional fixes on a daily basis and continue to reap the reward of a Goatwhore-induced rush.

With a couple of breaks - the midtempo "Provoking the Ritual of Death" and the much slower, doom-laden "To Mourn and Forever Wander Through Forgotten Doorways" - the beating continues on through the album's remaining nine tracks, varying just enough to keep the ear interested without violating the basic layout of a slab of hard-hitting evil music. With such a consistently enjoyable result, I'm pegging Carving Out the Eyes of God as a likely inclusion on my year's best-of list.

Mustaine and His Cryptic Writings

Seth and I were speculating last night on the "squashing a feud" news that Dave Mustaine hinted at the other day, wondering if it might mean - since the openers are still swirling in rumor and speculation - a spot on the fall Metallica tour or a tour with Slayer. Since Anthrax and Alice in Chains are both active at this point, we thought the later could very well turn into a revisit of Clash of the Titans (pending a suspension of egos, of course). Of course, now I re-read Mustaine's post and see it's a "potential" feud getting put to rest, so the entire speculation might be moot, but what do you all think? Would you want to see either one of these tours happen? Which would you prefer?

Slayer Versus Hippies

As you can probably imagine, Slayer wins. As if there was ANY doubt.

When CDs Ruled the World

Reviewing Black Ice for this week's batch o' CDs in what turns out to be my last go - I've been replaced by another source of reviews, which makes me feel like I've now got some sort of cred with the factory workers who watch their jobs get outsourced to southeast Asia - and it inspired some thoughts about album length in the age of CD domination.

Remember back in the mid to late 90s when CDs finally became the dominant format and companies that weren't staffed entirely by black metal nerds stopped putting out albums on cassettes? Perhaps freed from the constraints of a shorter medium, perhaps pushed to fill the whole 74 minutes to equalize the production costs, perhaps for some other reason that doesn't actually exist because I don't really have any scientific data on the subject, bands started putting out 15 track monstrosities stuffed with enough fluff to fill an army of pillows. In reaction, people start downloading mp3s, CD sales plummet, the record companies suffer and the music industry as we know it slowly sinks into the mire, replaced by a shining new paradigm of more sensical commerce.

I may have made the last part up.

As a child of the CD generation, I grew up with the idea of the more tracks the merrier. As time goes on however, my patience has begun to wear thin, either as a result of listening to shorter, tighter albums from the pre-CD days, or just the kind of crankiness one develops about the bullshit of others as one grows older. Either way, I've come to the conclusion that unless you're playing grind or hardcore or some other genre where "long" songs are the ones that last 30 seconds, you really shouldn't have more than 12 tracks on your album.

To bring it back to Black Ice: AC/DC's latest not only finds them running over the same well-tread ground (should we call that "Pulling a Slayer"? I think we should), but doing so over 15 tracks, which is about five tracks too many. "Rock 'N Roll Train," "Big Jack," "Spoilin' For A Fight," and the superb title track are all excellent inclusions; "Anything Goes" just takes the formula and gets repetitive. Part of this issue is undoubtedly Brendan O'Brien's fault for not forcing the band to keep things short and Back In Black-style sweet, but AC/DC are big boys: they should know better. It's album making 101, fellas: just because you can put the song on your record doesn't mean it needs to be there.

GWAR at Irving Plaza

GWAR, it seems has a pattern when it comes to opening bands: one thrash revival act, one "core" group, run for an hour and a half and then hit the stage. Two years ago, it was Municipal Waste and The Red Chord; this time around, we had Toxic Holocaust and Kingdom of Sorrow. The format might be slipping a bit: Toxic Holocaust is fun, but they're no Municipal Waste and I know I liked The Red Chord better than the modern metalcore stylings of Kingdom of Sorrow, a side project for guys from Hatebreed, Crowbar, and (because Kirk Windstein is off touring with Down) Type O Negative.

While taking refuge at the bar during Kingdom of Sorrow's set and discussing Guy Kozowyk's take on the origins of modern metalcore with my usual concert crew, I came to an important realization: one that could and should change this iffy form of music into some far more palatable. It's simple: anything that's not a breakdown (and I have no problem with the breakdowns: you can keep ripping off groove metal as much as you'd like) should be played at the same speed as a Slayer riff. Can you imagine how great that'd be? Instead of chopping along on eighth notes, all of those guitarists could tune in to the true brutality of sixteenth and thirty-second notes, channeling some Slayer-like energy into their lifeless riffs and drastically decreasing their suckitude at the same time. Think about it: everything tastes better with Slayer. Everything. And as an added inducement towards implementation, I say we ban Kingdom of Sorrow from using their kickass album graphic until they start applying The Slayer Method to their material.

So much for the openers. GWAR's performance was an evening of solid, sleazy entertainment. Three areas of note: first, GWAR seems to have finally realized that playing in clubs means people in the back can't see what's going down on the stage, and being a visual band, decided to fix the problem by using a video screen. It wasn't a complete success - some of the graphics looked like they were taken out of a digital special effects kit circa 1999 - but it helped give a bit more context to the action (unfortunately still rendered partially invisible by the heads of the taller people in front of me) on the stage. Speaking of action, we had a biology lesson: it turns out that breasts are full of green fluid. Who knew?

Second, Dave Brockie seems to love turning the words of his older material into complete mush. I'm not sure if it's laziness, material fatigue, or just a way to make fun of the bohabs, but the lyrics of the verses of "Sick of You," for example, were a wordless garble.

Third, Sleazy P. Martini came back for the tour. He set up the show's theme, killed a bunch of people in a revival of "Slaughterama" (easily the show's highlight, with the numerous faithful in the crowd supplanting Martini's role as host by shouting out the answers to each round's question), and announced his candidacy for President of the United States. I think you should vote for him.

Metal in the Middle East

Interesting post on Washington Post blog Islam's Advance by a guest writer (a professor from UC Irvine) on the blossoming of metal communities in the Muslim countries of the Middle East; large groups of fans in countries from Morocco to Pakistan who love the more extreme forms of metal for two reasons: first, the themes of desolation common to the lyrics match the listener's daily experience; second, metal offers a community that stands in opposition (and boy, us young people love us some opposition) to the repressive authority represented by their governments. Intriguing ideas, for two (more) reasons:

First, while there will always be plenty of disenfranchised people in Europe and America happy to create and listen to extreme music, there is (for most) a disconnect between what we're experiencing and what we're listening to. I'm happy not to be living in a world where Slayer lyrics aren't a representation of real life, but I appreciate the fact that those lyrics and the music that goes with them are not utilitarian art. Instead, they're removed from reality, where we can appreciate them, put them back on the shelf, and reengage with our daily lives. It's not quite disposable art, but it's something we can appreciate when we want to. The metal heads in the Islam's Advance post don't have that opportunity. Metal gives them an outlet now, which is cool, but as this phenomenon develops we may very well see the creation of a whole new take on metal, adding a unique interpretation to the art form, which is pretty awesome.

Second, the post notes that there's another group of young Muslims struggling against the authorities: fundamental Islamicists. In some cases, the metal heads and Islamicists stand in opposition; in others, there are connections: former metal heads who get religion, religious people who feel that one can love metal and be a good Muslim. Metal is hardly a tempering force, but any cross pollination between the two forces has to be good for cultural relations between the West and the Near East. One day we'll probably see the Muslim version of Christian Metal, but we might also see some better level of understanding between two long-standing groups of adversaries. Not bad for the healing power of music.

Film Review: Get Thrashed

Last week I had the distinct pleasure of attending the New York City premiere of Get Thrashed: The Story of Thrash Metal, a documentary about - you guessed it - the history of thrash from its origins in the 1980s to whatever form it's still kicking around in today. Directed by Rick Ernst, Get Thrashed featured Rat Skates, formerly of Overkill, as associate producer.

The showing took place in a theater on the East Side as a part of the New York International Independent Film & Video Festival. This association probably made the whole showing possible, but it lead to a few problems that very nearly killed the fun of this party before it got started.

First, there was the matter of seating arrangements. Because New York City is one of the world's original thrash capitals, many of the members of the NYC-area bands featured in this film wanted to come to the premiere. Because New York City is a place where class equality is a convenient lie, the organizers decided to reserve the front four rows for the bands and their families, even though there weren't really enough chairs for all of the ticket holders and this wasn't a crowd for acting star struck. Clearly, fire code be damned when there are rock stars involved.

But then the organizers went too far: they informed us - less than a minute before the show was supposed to start - that Get Thrashed would have an unannounced opener, a piece called Bang Bang You're Dead about an indie rock band from Utah. And they even had the director, a neophyte giving his first showing, in the audience to make an introduction.

As you can no doubt imagine, the result was a disaster. The film itself wasn't that bad - it reminded me a bit of Instrument, if Instrument had been Jem Cohen's first film - but anyone with half a brain would know that showing a film with no real narrative and a bunch of disassociated imagery about a group of college-age indie kids to a crowd of mostly 30+ metalheads would go over like a lead zeppelin. I was impressed: the crowd managed to maintain a sullen silence for the first few minutes before the conversation rose to low roar, people started actively booing the endless transitions or announcing loudly they were going out to get popcorn. The film's end after half an hour was a mercy killing overdue by about 25 minutes, leaving us to wonder if we had been the victims of a last minute switch due to poor ticket sales for Bang Bang Your Dead or some sort of bullheaded stupidity by our hosts.

Thankfully, the rest of the evening's awesome was proportional to the beginning's suckitude: Get Thrashed is an excellent, excellent film that gets even better when you watch it with a room full of fans not afraid to show their love for a nostalgia trip down heavy metal memory lane. Focusing on the world's four big thrash areas (LA, San Francisco, New York and Germany) and moving in a rough chronological order that tied the US Big Four (Metallica, Megadeth, Slayer and Anthrax) and German thrash giants Kreator to the scenes they helped spawn, Get Thrashed happily traced the progression of thrash from its roots in Metallica's garage in LA and Exodus's brutal live shows in San Francisco in 1980 to the movement's apogee with the 1990 Clash of the Titans tour, using photos, video and interviews with everyone from Blitz Ellsworth and Rat Skates to Dave Mustaine to Zetro to Lars Ulrich to the members of Dark Angel to those crazy bastards from the Old Bridge Militia to tell the tale.

While all of those interviews are informative, a few go beyond and become truly memorable. Blitz Ellsworth, for example, is either really funny or really, really crazy, but in a way that makes you want to have a beer with him so you can hear some stories. Dave Mustaine is...well, Dave Mustaine, the strange cross between super arrogant guitar god and comic book geek. My favorite moment in the movie was when Mustaine goes on a short rant about how he made the careers of everyone in Megadeth, could play better than everyone in Metallica, was, in fact, responsible for thrash music as we know it today - cue a gasp from the crowd - and then the film makers cut to Scott Ian, who tells the camera, "if it wasn't for Dave Mustaine, thrash music probably wouldn't exist."

There were some nice tribute moments, too: moments of silence written in for the memories of Cliff Burton, Paul Baloff and Dimebag Darrell made even more poignant by the sentiment of the crowd, which gave each man a full round of applause. These moments underscored how much of a community metal can be when it's brought together around something good; when in-fighting and external attacks aren't part of the equation and the mood turns to celebration of what's been done.

All of these moments underscore what seems to be Get Thrashed's underlying purpose: to set down the official story, such as it is, as a monument to one generation of metalheads and the bands they loved. It's a huge strength for the film, but it also underscores the film's one weakness: Get Thrashed puts thrash metal's foundations in a near vacuum, as if it sprang fully formed from the minds of a few guys who liked playing loud and fast, tiptoes around the more difficult issues and ascribes everything that's going on in metal now to what started 27 years ago. Historically it makes the film a little skewed, but that one problem pales in comparison to the enjoyable experience Get Thrashed provides to the viewer. If you can go see it, do; you'll have a great time.

"I is the Smart...I is the Smart..."

Fun with science: next time a snarky hipster calls you a meat head for rocking out to [insert metal song title here] and tells you only Neanderthals with IQs that make celery looks smart listen to metal, you can tell them a study done in England says otherwise. According to the study, done by the University of Warwick on 1,057 students, all members of the National Academy for Gifted and Talented Youth, which represents the top 5% of academic achievement in Britain, a disproportionate number of the students listed metal as their favorite type of music. The researchers feel the tie-in to metal are the feelings of alienation smart people have trying to adjust to society and the feelings of alienation expressed in so much of metal music.

Of course, these findings don't mean that there aren't absolute meat head metalheads out there; the Slayer-loving genius I mentioned in my first post is the exception that disproves the rule. Furthermore, if you need to justify yourself to anyone, especially elitists who think all irony all the time is the way to live your life, as to why you love metal, it might be time for a gut check. But still, when you know you listen to music that features as many cerebral guitar lines as it does blast beats, it's nice to get some validation that your music choices reflect some higher intellectual processes. Biatch.

Bodomoriffic

I love Children of Bodom with a sick, sick passion that makes no sense to me. I had heard them once or twice before this year, but they didn't make nearly the impression they did the first time I loaded up their complete catalog (no, thank you, bittorrent!) into iTunes and let rip in the middle of last year - it was like someone took all of my secret pop rock loves (think Fountains of Wayne) and metalized them - Hate Crew Deathroll was a revelation because it was technically complex, rocked hard but had hooks that would pull down a whale. It doesn't matter that you can never understand what Alexi is singing and that half of the lyrics read like they're aimed at the angsty teenage market - my previously described sick passion was now in full flame. And then I saw them perform live.

On a good day, as they had when performing in New Jersey as a part of the Unholy Alliance Tour, Children of Bodom on stage turns out to be something like musical stage crack: very fun, very addicting and something you look forward to seeing again at the next possible opportunity, even if you're bleeding because someone elbowed you in the head in the pit. To put it even more plainly: they (along with Mastodon) were the highlight of a day that ended with so-so performances by Lamb of God and Slayer, for God's sake. They blew Slayer off the stage (you may direct all hate mail here). To say I was eager for their return would be an understatement; I became mildly obsessed with the idea.

Because I'm a good boy and the metal gods love me, I got my wish, wrapping up my 2006 concert tour at an even 12 with CoB's headlining performance at the Nokia Theatre on December 17, with Sanctity, Gojira and Amon Amarth opening. You can read the official review here and see the pictures from the show here.

As far as the unofficial observations go, today's bit isn't so much about the bands as it is about the venue. I'm finding that the Nokia Theatre is rapidly becoming my favorite location to see a metal show in NYC, especially when I have press access. To be sure, there's the three 3-star-or-better shows I saw there in 2006, but this time around I discovered what really makes the difference between this venue and, say, Irving Plaza, the scene of such recent disappointment.

First of all, the barriers didn't collapse, which was really, really awesome by itself. Second, if you've got the right pass, security doesn't really care what you do. I could have hung out in the interview room, although that might have gotten embarrassing when the bands showed up expecting to answer questions (not something I'm ready to prep for). When the three song limit for shooting pictures was up for each band, I retreated to the VIP balcony to the left of the stage, where I not only got some great angles for additional shots but found that all rules are basically suspended - security doesn't care if you stand on chairs, smoke pot, have sex in a corner; it's all good because the Man doesn't really come up to the balcony, except to shine flashlights on the crowd surfers so the guys in front know who's coming up to the barrier. By the way, I only engaged in one of these activities - I'll leave you to guess which one, to keep some mystery going in this blog.