Decibel #102 - April 2013

Metallica × Exodus × Neurosis

Inside the Historic East Bay Metal Scene

e xt r e m e ly e xt r e m e  d e c i b e l m ag az i n e . c o m

100 th Issue Show Reviewed!

Rigor Mortis hall of fame

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clutch What's on Tap for the Cult Rock Heroes?

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suffocation | Portal | Sebastian Bach | Botanist

Sister Sin | Inter Arma | Lightning Swords of Death

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April 2013 [T102] decibelmagazine.com

62

c o ver s t o r y

Clutch

Still gripping and ripping

upfront 10 metal muthas Misery of muthahood

22 inter arma Carcass clouds

12 grinding it out Darker days ahead

24 kommandant Here come the high-steppers

12 brewtal truth Pure malt fury 14 cry now Killer looks 16 live reviews Throwing our own horns

26 kongh Sole patrol 28 devourment Did you know they’re utterly insane?

30 botanist 18 studio report Spilling his seed The Black Dahlia Murder goes extra-black 32 lightning swords 20 wormed Hole lotta love

of death

Friday night, they need a fight

reviews

features

73 lead review Yellow + green + bloody mountain red = Anciients

34 call & response:

74 album reviews Albums by bands that may not exist by our 200th issue show including Rotting Christ, KEN Mode, Soilwork, Saxon and Gruesome Stuff Relish

liv jagrell

Wicked wisdom 36 suffocation Live from New York…

38 portal Hood rats 40 q & a: sebastian bach Drinking kills frontmen dead

44 special feature: the

east bay metal scene Oakland: fuckin’ A!

50 the decibel

hall of fame

Eulogizing Mike Scaccia and Rigor Mortis 96 south pole dispatch Infant sorrow

92 sub:culture Pitt stains cover and contents photo by CLARK VANDEGRIFT

Decibel (ISSN 1557-2137) is published monthly by Red Flag Media, Inc., 1032 Arch Street, 3rd Floor, Philadelphia, PA 19107. Annual subscription price is $29.95. Periodical postage, Philadelphia, PA, and other mailing offices. Submission of manuscripts, illustrations and/or photographs must be accompanied by a stamped, self-addressed envelope. The publisher assumes no responsibility for unsolicited materials. Postmaster send changes of address for Decibel to Red Flag Media, 1032 Arch Street, 3rd Floor, Philadelphia PA 19107. Copyright© 2013 by Red Flag Media, Inc. All issn 1557-2137 | usps 023142 rights reserved. Reproduction in whole or in part without written permission of the publisher is strictly prohibited.

ON TOUR NOW ERIC PETERSON

NICLAS ENGELIN

TESTAMENT

IN FLAMES/ENGEL MIKE MARTIN

ALL THAT REMAINS

MATT BAUMBACH & MIKE KENNEDY

VISION OF DISORDER

JOE DUPLANTIER

GOJIRA

CHRISTIAN ANDREU

GOJIRA

GAURAV BALI

EVE TO ADAM

MIKE SCHLEIBAUM & MIKE “LONESTAR” CARRIGAN

DARKEST HOUR

ORIANTHI

ALICE COOPER/ SOLO ARTIST

THIS IS WHAT I USE. www.evhgear.com

VOGG

DECAPITATED

ERIC FRIEDMAN

CREED/TREMONTI

MATT WICKLUND & DOC COYLE

GOD FORBID

PHOTO: MATT YORK, BAUMBACH/KENNEDY, MATT BRUCK, TARA STEWART, ANICKA NILSSON, TARA STEWART, MATT FERGUSON, ANTHONY DUBOIS, DAVIID FRIEDMAN

© 2013 FMIC. EVH®, the EVH® logo, and the unique headstock and body designs of these guitars are trademarks of ELVH, Inc. All rights reserved.

JACKY VINCENT & DEREK JONES

FALLING IN REVERSE

www.decibelmagazine.com

extremely extreme

April 2013 [T102]

Publi s her

Alex Mulcahy

Editor -In-Chief

Albert Mudrian

managing Editor

Co ntr ibuting Wr iters

alex@redflagmedia.com albert@redflagmedia.com

Andrew Bonazelli

andrew@redflagmedia.com

Jamie Leary

Cr eative di r ector

jamie@redflagmedia.com

ar t di rector

Bruno Guerreiro

bruno@decibelmagazine.com cu s tomer se rvice

Patty Moran patty@redflagmedia.com

co ntr ibuting ar tis ts

Chuck BB, Mark Rudolph

adve r tising

Albert Mudrian

albert@redflagmedia.com

just words from the editor

photo by Raymond Ahner

540.878.5756 unde r to nes secti on

Drew Juergens

drew@decibelmagazine.com

Online Deciblo g editor

Andrew Bonazelli

andrew@decibelmagazine.com

“I Like Beer.” Not only is

this a fact, but the country song of the same title is the personalized ringtone my wife hears whenever I call her. (Note to Jeff Walker: Please don’t cover this on your next solo album.) I should qualify that statement by explaining that I like good beer—the stuff that our intrepid swiller Adem Tepedelen covers in his Brewtal Truth column each month (which will be anthologized in book form later this year). So, we are extremely grateful and honored that the fine folks at Flying Dog Brewery—one of my personal favorites—were kind enough to host this month’s cover shoot. Thank you, kindly.

And what better band to shoot there than MD’s own booze and bruise crew Clutch? While Chris Dick’s exhaustive cover story on the history of these cult rockers doesn’t draught much in the way of beer, this month’s Brewtal Truth delivers mad hops on Clutch’s own “Collabeeration” craft brew with New Belgium Brewing.

I can only hope that Tony Foresta was pouring something half as good down the barrel of “The Inebriator” when I was ordered onstage

by Municipal Waste to perform an impromptu beer bong at our soldthe-fuck-out 100th Issue Celebration Show back in January. Dude could have poured a pint of Pennzoil through there and I would have had no choice but to suck it down. So, thanks for going easy on me. And a sincere thank you to everyone who performed, introduced the acts and came out to the show. It was truly an honor to share the night with so many friends, readers, and current and former co-workers who have all invested so much time and energy into this funny little magazine. I don’t remember all of the details (see “The Inebriator”), but I do know the film crew on hand that night captured everything. If all goes well, you can bring the party home on DVD by the end of the year.

Note: craft beer optional, but encouraged for optimal video performance. albert mudrian, Editor-in-Chief

Anthony Bartkewicz Adrien Begrand J. Bennett Shawn Bosler Brent Burton Richard Christy Liz Ciavarella-Brenner John Darnielle Jerry A. Deathburger Chris Dick Jeanne Fury Nick Green Joe Gross Jonathan Horsley Scott Koerber Daniel Lake Frank Lemke Shawn Macomber Shane Mehling Kirk Miller Greg Moffitt Justin M. Norton Matt Olivo Etan Rosenbloom Scott Seward Kevin Sharp Rod Smith Zach Smith Kevin Stewart-Panko Adem Tepedelen Jeff Treppel Jeff Wagner Co ntr ibuting photo gr aphers

Main Office

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To order by phone: 1.215.625.9850 (10 a.m. – 5 p.m. EST) To order by fax: 1.215.625.9967 To order online: www.decibelmagazine.com Decibel (ISSN 1557-2137) is published monthly by Red Flag Media, Inc., 1032 Arch Street, 3rd Floor, Philadelphia, PA 19107. Annual subscription price is $29.95. Periodical postage, Philadelphia, PA, and other mailing offices. Submission of manuscripts, illustrations and/or photographs must be accompanied by a stamped, self-addressed envelope. The publisher assumes no responsibility for unsolicited materials.

Postmaster send changes of address for Decibel to Red Flag Media, 1032 Arch Street, 3rd Floor, Philadelphia PA 19107.

Copyright ©2013 by Red Flag Media, Inc. All rights reserved. Reproduction in whole or in part without written permission of the publisher is strictly prohibited.

PR INTED IN U SA

issn 1557-2137

| u s p s 023142

FACEBOOK.COM/FYEGUY

fanbase Reader of the Month Mike Lyon Edina, MN

Okay, what the hell do you do for fun in Edina, MN? No one is allowed to have any fun in Edina—I think it’s a city ordinance. Thankfully, we’re just minutes away from Minneapolis and St. Paul, where I take every opportunity to combine my loves of drinking and metal shows! Did I mention that it’s cold? Insanely, bitterly cold.

But a friend and I have plans to start distilling small-batch gin to warm things up a bit.

Clutch is the cover of this month’s issue. Can you get down with that?

All the way down; those dudes write some tasty riffs! I’m glad they’ve got a new album coming out; hopefully they’ll swing through the Twin Cities and I can finally catch them live.

You’re a metal dad. When do you plan on exposing your children to the sweet sounds of

Cattle Decapitation and the like? Or has that already happened?

Oh, they are fully exposed! We never really went in for “Lullaby Renditions of Slayer” or whatever. I just put on Reign in Blood and watch them jump around! My daughter is a year old and she’ll listen to anything—we put on Fallujah and Assück during playtime this past weekend. My son is three and he’s already refining his own tastes. Lately, he likes things a little more melodic, like Amorphis or Judas Priest. True story: When they were babies, black metal would put them to sleep instantly. If they were fussy, I’d put on some Immortal and, boom, nap time!

letterbombs HOPE YOU CAN GET THAT TOUCHED UP WITH A “B.C.” Please see the attached photo of my portrait of Papa Emeritus of Ghost. It’s from issue #80 [June 2011]. I got it done in May 2012 by Mark Brettrager at Rising Tide Tattoo in Newark, Ohio.

I hope you appreciate the photo.

—Thanks, Kris Williams

You attended Decibel’s 100th Issue Show in January. What’s your favorite memory from the event?

There were so many awesome moments, but I’d call it a tie: John Baizley joining Converge onstage to play “Coral Blue” in his first [full-band] performance since the bus crash, and Pig Destroyer’s whole set—I’d waited a decade to see them play live and they did not disappoint! Pure metal nirvana.

My friend Johnny is a metal neophyte and I dragged him up from DC to attend—it was his first metal show. It was amazing to see a good friend experience all those bands for the first time, and to be welcomed by this great community of fans. Here’s to another hundred issues!

Chuck BB is the illustrator of the graphic novels Black Metal, Vol. 1. and Black Metal, Vol. 2 For more info and art, head over to chuckbb.com 6 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

web gems presents:

s s e f o k c u n S s o ie Symph n insane and inspired In which we recount the most comrades in blog posts of the month from our

SEBASTIAN BACH AND STEVE STEVENS ARE WORKING TOGETHER

FIVE FINGER DEATH PUNCH DRUMMER PREPARES HIS NOBEL PRIZE FOR LITERATURE ACCEPTANCE SPEECH

Oh, what the hell—Baz is the subject of J. Bennett’s Q&A this month, so we might as well o.d. now so we don’t have to write about him for the rest of the year.

MS co-founder Axl Rosenberg shares Comrade Bennett’s inexplicable enthusiasm for current Bach projects, and is pleased as punch to see Vince Neil/ Billy Idol session player Stevens entering the fold. We’re pleased as punch to see the above photo of these two beauts, looking fan-fucking-tastic in 2013.

TAGS: SEBASTIAN BACH, STEVE STEVENS

Many years ago, a member of one of Decibel’s favorite bands referred to Five Finger Death Punch as Five Finger Fruit Punch. That’s how you maintain lifetime status as one of Decibel’s favorite bands. Anyway, great headline here. The drummer for FFFP— sorry, FFDP—is named Jeremy Spencer, and if you’ve heard of him, he’s psyched, because he’s evidently writing an autobiography with Ron Jeremy sharing on the cover, featuring life-affirming fucking-on-coke anecdotes.

TAGS: FIVE FINGER DEATH PUNCH

LISTENING TO THE NEW OCEANO SONG FEELS LIKE BEING MURDERED, SLOWLY

Venomous Maximus Path of Doom

…AND THAT’S HOW JOSE CANSECO ENDED UP WRITING LYRICS FOR EVERY TIME I DIE

Okay, maybe Oceano—any deathcore band, really—is a particularly low-hanging piñata, but considering this is a site that regularly employs Sergeant D, we don’t mind when MS take batting practice. The new chugfest is called “Slow Murder,” and Axl is quick to point out the discrepancy in the accompanying press notes: “If you want us to change, then you’re gonna be disappointed. We’re not gonna replicate any album that we’ve ever released.”

Commence weeping for the future in 3… 2…

You don’t have to be a baseball fan to know that Jose Canseco’s Twitter feed is usually the saddest place on Earth. Here is a rare case of whimsy emanating from that nightmare world. The former roid-freak/ whistle-blower tweeted “Song lyrics have always been the most powerful form of social commentary. I know power.” Keith Buckley of Every Time I Die replied, asking Jose (sincerely, we think) to write lyrics for his band. After a brief logistics discussion, Jose mused, “I’m thinking Sepultura/Trivium type lyrics.” God, please let this happen.

TAGS: OCEANO

TAGS: EVERY TIME I DIE

Visit www.metalsucks.net 8 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

Satan’s Wrath

Slaves of the Inverted Cross

Weapon

Embers and Revelations

Clutch

A Shogun Named Marcus Visit the official Decibel channel at Metal Injection http://www.metalinjection.tv/decibel

news

now slaying Wonder what Decibel world HQ has been rocking for the past month?

Well, here are the records we spun the most when we weren’t even pretending to care about forthcoming new LPs from the Blacks—Sabbath and Flag.

Metal

Muthas Because not all of us were spawned in the darkest recesses of hell

This Month's Mutha: Sharon Hasenauer Mutha of Misery Index’s Jason Netherton

At what age did Jason show an interest in music?

When he was growing up, his dad and I would listen to a lot of different music, primarily classical and a lot of Gordon Lightfoot. Jason would have been about eight or nine when it seemed like he was enjoying all of it. In elementary band, as I recall, he played trumpet, of all things. When he first wanted to take guitar lessons, he was probably 12 or 13.

When did he develop musical tastes independent of yours?

Ah! I remember it very well. He came to me wanting a KISS album and I didn’t even know what he was talking about! When I found out it was Gene Simmons and the bloody tongue stuff, it sort of took me aback. It was like, “My little boy likes this stuff?!” But my thought was that if it makes him happy, it certainly can’t hurt him.

But at the same time, he wanted me to take him to see Hall & Oates, and I won tickets to a Billy Joel concert that he thought was great.

What were your thoughts when he started listening to death metal?

I was a little bit mystified. I began to enjoy heavy metal like Def Leppard, Scorpions, Iron 1 0 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

Maiden and all the things that came before grindcore, but I accepted it, even though it’s difficult to identify with things I can’t sing along to.

How did you react when he formed a band called Dying Fetus?

That was interesting because I’d tell my friends about him forming a band, and how he was taking it a lot more seriously. Then came the time when people would want to know the band name, and I’d go, “Um… Dying [mumbles].”

I like to think I was accommodating, but it wasn’t always easy. When it became Misery Index, that was easier for people to understand.

Jason is presently taking time away from Misery Index to focus on his Ph.D. Did that decision surprise you at all?

What surprises me most is that he never backed off from music or education, and that he was able to get his degrees while touring, writing and practicing. He has a lot of energy, focus and passion for whatever he does. I wasn’t surprised, and I’ve always been proud with whatever direction he’s chosen.

—Kevin Stewart-Panko

Albert Mudrian : e d i t o r i n c h i e f  Cathedral, The Last Spire  Iron Reagan, Worse Than Dead  Immolation, New Album Advance  Metallica, Kill ’Em All  The Mountain Goats, The Sunset Tree ---------------------------------Andrew Bonazelli : m a n a g i n g e d i t o r  Cult of Luna, Vertikal  Intronaut, Habitual Levitations  The Joy Formidable, Wolf's Law  Thou, Peasant  Lalo Schifrin, Dirty Harry OST ---------------------------------Patty Moran : c u s t o m e r s e r v i c e  Naam, Naam  Unsane, Wreck  Neurosis, Honor Found in Decay  Brian Eno, Taking Tiger Mountain (By Strategy)  Electric Wizard, Dopethrone ---------------------------------Bruno Guerreiro : a r t d i r e c t o r  Harvey Milk, Life... The Best Game in Town  Death Breath, Stinking Up the Night  Disfear, Live the Storm  Graveyard, Graveyard  Rotten Sound, Species at War

guest slayer

---------------------------------Alex Bouks : i n c a n tat i o n / goreaphobia

 Voivod, Target Earth  Metallica, Ride the Lightning  Al Stewart, The Early Years  PJ Harvey, White Chalk  Scorpions, Taken by Force

ramblings

l a t rew

Btruth Extreme Conditions Demand Extreme Editorials From Brutal Truth Frontman Kevin Sharp

Wrest It Back Welcome, 2013. And welcome yesterday’s

political ideals melting in our modern-world struggles. Work has been, at best, sluggish. The fear of our fatcats in DC has tightened the wallets of most everyone, virtually shutting down my work. Issues diverted in financial cliffs to future debacles of childish stupidity have forced many to closely watch rising medical insurance costs with the reintroduction of the social security taxes that were eased a few years back. Our ability to bury our heads in sand—while those we’ve hired to navigate us through these times fail—is quickly bitchslapping the taste of reality front and center.

Horrific mass shootings and petty crimes have painted our papers and saturated our news with soundtracks marketing this ill-behavior in repeat. Take a sick fucking asshole, sit him in front of the news, and he will crave and earn his own catastrophic symphony. It’s that simple: I have to turn it off.

As a parent, these productions do nothing for getting one foot in front of the other.

Obvious debates on the Second Amendment have stemmed from this heated awakening. More and more social meltdowns have entered movie theaters and schools, crying out a need for group hugs and disaster relief. Again, I do not buy into it. The answers will not be found in gun control, or a Hollywood production, for that matter. I

myself do not own a gun of any kind—it’s not my bag—but I do understand the thought process behind this law, and could possibly have a change of thought on the matter.

How we choose to govern and protect this right is as fucked up as the next issue in Washington politics, and reform across the board is necessary.

An inability to cross lines and stuffing issues in bills create a dialogue that is so swollen with our blood, they can’t even introduce simple relief for Sandy survivors without fist-fucking a fishery.

Excuse me, but what does this have to do with the rise of the sun versus the destruction of the symbol of America? I’m certain if some of these bags of shit were forced to camp out with their family in makeshift housing in the middle of winter, there would be a different attitude. Put a hammer in their hand and show them what it means to rebuild. And FEMA… do not get me started.

The precious few in DC that have struggled for commonality in bipartisanship are losing heart and choosing to opt out of the next election. We sit back and let government grip our throats tighter and tighter. These are all just opinions, and I’m sure—or at least I hope—that you all have some of your own. May I not offend, but offer a call to arms—prayer for grass-rooted change; another reason to write another Brutal Truth record. Mind you, I seem never to be at loss for words. A

Take a sick fucking asshole, sit him in front of the news, and he will crave and earn his own catastrophic symphony.

It’s that simple: I have to turn it off.

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guide to staying kvlt while drunk… and drunk while kvlt by adem tepedelen

Clutch Will Tour for Beer

W

e can count on one hand the number of extreme bands who have actually collaborated—or in this case, “collabeerated”— on a beer with a craft brewery. We’re talking about the band having actual input as to what goes in the bottle. This month’s cover boys Clutch, whose 10th album Earth Rocker is out on March 19, are one of those bands. Their hook-up with Fort Collins brewery New Belgium in 2011 resulted in the Lips of Faith Clutch beer, a unique strong sour stout with tons of character.

Drummer Jean-Paul Gaster gave us the lowdown on the hard-working/hard-touring band’s craft beer obsession.

Is it safe to assume that since your band name was on that Lips of Faith brew that everyone in Clutch enjoys craft beer.

Yeah, I think we all do. All the band guys and all the crew guys. We all have the opportunity on tour to try different beers, and it’s an exciting thing for us. Sometimes it can be a little mundane out there [touring]. It can get a little routine. And sometimes just cracking a local beer at the end of the night—something that you haven’t Adem Tepedelen tried before, something doesn’t drink green beer on exciting—that can St. Patty’s day, really make the day. and neither should you.

i l l u s t r at i o n b y j . p. f l e x n e r

Do you request craft beer in your rider when you’re touring?

We try to ask for the “best local beer.” Oscar, who is our tour manager, he gets with the promoter or whoever is handling catering and says very specifically, “This is what we’re looking for—what do you have?” Usually people are really proud of [the local beer] they have to offer, and that’s where the dialogue begins. Trying local beers is one of my favorite parts of the job. It’s something I don’t take for granted.

We all have the opportunity on tour to try different beers, and it’s an exciting thing for us. Sometimes it can be a little mundane out there. It can get a little routine. And sometimes just cracking a local beer at the end of the night–something that you haven’t tried before, something exciting– that can really make the day. jean-paul gaster

It wasn’t that long ago when finding craft beer outside major cities was impossible. Did you experience that in touring?

Sam Adams Lager and Boston Ale were really my first experiences with a craft beer. This was like 1992 or ’93. Both were difficult to find, and when [we] did find them, it was an exciting thing. You really appreciated them. It wasn’t until the midto-late ’90s that [we] started seeing craft beers popping up everywhere. Now I know I can find good beers in Omaha, NE or Gillette, WY. These were towns that, before, you might only find Miller Genuine Draft.

Yeah, and now you can find barrel-aged sour beers in Kansas City, Missouri!

Yeah, there’s so much experimentation going on, with all kinds of ingredients. One of the cool things about craft beer is, if you’re a craft beer [drinker], chances are you’re not going to only be into New Belgium. You’re going to like New Belgium, and that’s going to want to make you try Oskar Blues.

And that’s gonna make you want to try Lagunitas, and that’s going to make you want to try Ommegang.

It is really a good time for craft beers. A

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ramblings

now cry later * cry by j. bennett

illustration by brunofsky

Hot Spikes Life’s hard, but it’s a lot harder if you’re fuckin’ stupid.

—George V. Higgins, The Friends of Eddie Coyle, 1970

Toronto, 1981. The bad part of town or whatever.

The fat man shuffled his feet. He said, “I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying.”

Ron fixed his mustache and rolled his eyes.

“What I’m saying is, you gotta take a long hard look at this thing. The big picture, I mean.

Because I don’t think you’re seeing the angles. I think maybe you need to pull your head out of your ass.”

“You’re leading me, Ron. Spit it out, already.”

“Look, it’s like this: I’ve been working like a bastard on this thing. Day and night.

Carrying the whole goddamned operation on my back like it was my own newborn son. But you, you’re not pulling your weight.”

“You calling me fat, you fuck?”

Ron smiled. “You are fucking fat, Eddie. But that’s not my point. My point is, it’s time for you to buck up.”

Eddie watched a pigeon shag a cigarette butt off the curb. “Okay, okay. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

“First thing’s first, Eddie. You gotta lose the Hawaiian shirt. We’re a fucking heavy metal band and you wear a fucking Hawaiian shirt—and white fucking khakis—to a photo shoot. Said photo ends up on the back of our fucking album. Ergo, we look like assholes.”

“Please. You’re wearing a pleather tunic in that picture. Over a black T-shirt. John’s wearing canary-yellow sweatpants with sky-blue bowling shoes. And Jeff… fuck. I think Jeff might be a fag.”

“Look, I already talked to those guys. Now I’m talking to you.”

“So, what do you suggest, Ron? Spikes?

Leather? Mirrored shades? You want me to do the cliché thing? You want us to be a fucking cliché? Like what’s-their-tits? Venom? I know you said those guys were kidding, but I’m not so sure.”

“Fuck Venom. They’re a novelty act. You think the world is gonna remember Venom 30 years from now? No fucking way. They’re gonna remember Fist, Eddie. And not the New Wave of British Heavy Metal Fist, either. The Canadian Fist. Our Fist.”

1 4 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

“Amen, brother. Amen. So, what’s our next move?”

“Our next move is we gotta step up our game.

Hot Spikes was good. It was real good, minus the band photo and all, but now we gotta move on up. Give these humps in Anvil something to sweat about. And not just them. Most of these greaseballs, they’re just dying to open for Rush.

That’s the big time to them. The end-all, be-all.

That’s making it. Fuck that, Eddie. I want Rush to open for us.”

“I’ll be honest, Ron: I like what you’re saying. I like it a lot.”

“I thought you might. So, do me a favor, okay?”

“Anything, Ronnie. Name it.”

“Lose the Hawaiian shirt, buddy. Pretty please, with sugar on top.”

“Consider it done. But what I’m saying is: If not the Hawaiian, what the fuck should I wear?”

“I’ve got this idea, Eddie. I think it’s gonna blow some minds, too. You know how we talked about calling the next album Fleet Street?

The whole Sweeney Todd thing?”

“You mean the glam band? The one with the little kid for a lead singer? Yeah, he went solo and he thinks he’s hot shit now. Bryan Adams, that’s the little prick’s name. Can’t stand that fucking kid.”

“Eddie? You’re working my last nerve here, buddy. Sweeney Todd, the fucking barber. Slits his customers’ throats with a straight razor and passes the bodies off to his girlfriend so she can make meat pies.”

“For real?”

“It’s a fucking story, Eddie. Concerning the mysterious origins of ‘dubious pie fillings,’ if you know what I mean. Circa Victorian times. Which brings me to my point: I think we should go full Victorian garb for the next set of album pix. My sister’s a seamstress—I already talked to her about it, and she’s in. We might even be able to squeeze a decent budget out of the label, do this thing right.”

“I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about, Ron. But if you think it’s the way to go, I’ll back your play a hundred percent.”

“Trust me on this one, Eddie. We’re gonna be fucking huge.” A

live reviews ➊

2

3

4

Decibel’s 100th

Issue Celebration Show Converge, Pig Destroyer, Repulsion, Municipal Waste, Tombs and Evoken when: January 19, 2013 where: Union Transfer, Philadelphia

In writing this review, there’s probably no way

to avoid bias and/or pissing off a whole bunch of people. Hell, I’ve been here since before issue #1. I knew Decibel was something special when I saw the prototype, have stuck around in full force ever since and have no departure plans. How could I not be biased? Haters and negative nellies are going to hate, be negative and stomp all over accomplishment no matter what we do. Mudrian could come to their individual places of residence with Nasum, featuring the reanimated Mieszko Talarczyk, have them grind in their living rooms, and someone would still bitch about it not being the “original” lineup. Other magazines?

I’m sure they’re out there, somewhere, wondering how a bunch of metal nerds got to this point.

And no offense to any promoter who has ever billed their show or festival as a party, but the sold-out 100th issue show was more like a party than any party I’ve ever been to. It was like a monthly issue transposed into flesh-and-blood reality; a huge celebration of metal that’s equal parts serious fun and darkened light.

All the bands ruled. And if you didn’t think 1 6 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

a band ruled, like if Evoken was too molassespaced for your ADHD, or you’d rather witness Repulsion when they didn’t sound like a twopiece, bass-less, lead guitar-less garage-grind outfit, you could wander off and give guest DJ Tomas Lindberg the thumbs up for spinning all the obscure thrash and death metal straight out of your vinyl collection. You could also explore the splendor of Union Transfer, a venue that should be a blueprint for anything involving

live music. Excellent sightlines, ample bar and balcony room for the drinkers and non-moshers, and a spacious merch area where commemorative items were available, members of Converge were selling their own wares and seemingly everyone in my contact list was hanging out at once. It was here, after running into person after person who flew from across the country or came from other countries, that this gathering struck me more like a family reunion than a metal gig; albeit with people far more tolerable than any actual member of my family.

Our very own John Darnielle started the evening off with a specially designed South Pole Dispatch. To say that it was fucking awesome would be an understatement. To say that it should’ve been reproduced here as a recap instead of this is a truth I’m OK admitting to.

It got difficult to keep track of what was what.

One minute Evoken are summoning the gods of depression and gunpowder-scented incense, the next I’m catching up with former customer

➊ Converge by Raymond Ahner ➋ Converge by Raymond Ahner ➌ Pig Destroyer by Raymond Ahner ➍ Repulsion by Maclyn Bean

6

➎ Repulsion by Raymond Ahner

7

8

➏ Municipal Waste by Raymond Ahner ➐ Albert Mudrian & Municipal Waste by Raymond Ahner

➑ Municipal Waste by Maclyn Bean ➒ Tomas Lindberg & Municipal Waste by Maclyn Bean

❿ Tombs by Maclyn Bean

9

⓫ Evoken by Maclyn Bean ⓬ John Darnielle by Mike Scales

5

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service king Mark-Fucking-Evans. Then, some gentlemen—mostly gentlemen!—from the Deciboard saunter over as Tombs start into some new stuff that questions whether post-black metal fucking Joy Division and the Cure with delay pedals actually happened or if it was a non-lucid interval due to lack of sleep?

Lindberg played MC before Municipal Waste’s set, announcing the 2013 Decibel tour, the next Decibel-driven event you’re never going to hear the end of until the next Decibel-driven event you’re never going to hear the end of. After Tompa revealed that Napalm Death will be directly supporting Cannibal Corpse, I must’ve been jabbed by 250 sweatpants boners. The Waste, in addition to providing a natural mirroring of the evening’s lighter mood—confetti cannons/songs about sharks and cowbell fills will do that—brought their signature beer bong out of retirement, dragged our EIC on stage and forced what we hope was a snobby craft beer from Dave Witte’s collection down his gullet in commemoration of a job

⓫

well done. It would have only been better had they propped him on an inflatable pool lounger and threw him out to the wolves.

As mentioned, Repulsion’s sound was having one of those nights. Marissa Martinez and Scott Carlson’s fingers were moving, but this provided no evidence that their instruments were actually plugged in. That’s OK, because as unlikely as it would have been to say so 10 years ago, Repulsion will be around playing one-offs and the same batch of songs for a while yet.

Pig Destroyer have unleashed a grindcore masterstroke with Book Burner and, in Adam Jarvis, is anchored by one of the best anchors in the business, but their one-guitar approach leaves something to be desired in large rooms. Easy solution: Move as close to the front as possible.

Problem solved. From there, you’re allowed more intimate witness to what exactly Blake Harrison does and where his textural noisescapes come in.

Plus, you can watch his cheerleading hardcore jumps and drinking habit up close. I’m sure they

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don’t want to be reminded of having their set’s dramatic climax falling into complete collapse at the hands of a faulty guitar, but with such a festive atmosphere, who cares? All is forgiven.

You could have heard a pin drop when John Baizley got up to introduce and talk about how Converge, and not Emmylou Harris, got him through the ongoing recovery process after Baroness’s horrific 2012 bus accident. And you wouldn’t have been able to hear a cluster bomb drop when he strapped on a guitar to join the band on “Coral Blue.” Reports that this was the most anyone has ever seen Mr. Baizley smile in one sitting may be facetiously over-dramatized, but no one can deny the heartwarming vibes the pairing created. The only negativity to Converge’s set came with the necessary omission of certain classic songs, given eight albums of solid material to choose from and time restrictions. Let’s hope that whoever is putting together a Decibel anthology of selected works come issue #200 has a similar problem. —Kevin Stewart-Panko d e c i b e l : a p r i l 2 0 13 : 1 7

in the studio

lia murder

the black dah

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studio report

the black dahlia murder

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title

Everblack

Studio he Black Dahlia Murder have to be the most predictable Regal Fecal band of the century—at least in terms of release dates. After Studios, issuing their debut album back in 2003, the Michiganders Ferndale, MI; Rustbelt Studios, have put out a new record every two years, all while maintaining a Royal Oak, MI; jam-packed tour schedule. If your math is rusty, that means album and Audiohammer number six will hit this year.

Studios, Orlando, FL When we reached frontman Trevor Strnad for an update, Producer TBDM—which is likely to soon include drummer Alan Cassidy (“I’m Ryan Williams and pretty sure his being on the album means that he’ll be a full-time the Black Dahlia Murder member”)—had completed recording over half of Everblack, including Release Date bass and rhythm tracks with former bassist Ryan “Bart” Williams.

June 2013 While Strnad feels like the group has “something major to prove Label with this album after losing two longtime members [last year],” Metal Blade including Williams, having Bart around was “good for the guys” because he knew exactly what they wanted and helped everyone stay relaxed. “I even heard [guitarist] Brian [Eschbach] talk about how he was enjoying the process for once rather than wanting to rip his hair out,” recalls the vocalist. “Good vibrations, ya know?”

And with Strnad set to leave for Florida to track vocals with Jason Suecof for songs like “Raped in Hatred by Vines of Thorn” (“a new one about The Evil Dead—I basically describe that plant rape scene,

but way more graphically than it could occur in a film… fun song”), the atmosphere fostered

by Williams should only continue. “We have so much fun [with Jason] making fun of old death metal vocals and shit that we can get carried away sometimes,” explains Strnad. “Last time it was all about yelling ‘Unspoken Names’ like Alex Krull from Atrocity all night.”

Vibes aside, according to Strnad, the key to his band’s remarkable productivity is simple: commitment. “You have to approach it knowing that there will never be enough time to do everything you want, and that you just have to do the best you can with what you’ve got. The success keeps it truly exciting for us. [2011’s] Ritual was a huge record, and we want to keep that momentum going. It’s been like a giant snowball effect.

We’ve always seen touring as the best form of advertisement for this band. If you have been given the opportunity that we have, what would you do? Half-ass it? We’ve always gone 1,000 percent, and anything less just wouldn’t be TBDM.”—Zach Smith

studio short shots

Art THou Bored?

Snap into... a new thou album!

Thou vocalist Bryan Funck is blunt when asked how the recording of upcoming album Heathen is going. “We’re done except for recording vocals for a little over half the songs. So, it’s going great for everyone except me!”

Heathen will be twice as long as the band’s last album Summit; Funck says it will be “a celebration of ego and all the senses. It’s more expansive in some ways. We also wrote some small pieces that will bridge the songs together,

1 8 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

trying to make everything flow from beginning to end without that kind of start-stop between songs.

The sound is somewhat similar to the Summit stuff—very heavy on melody. A lot of the celebratory elements from Summit are also there with this one.”

There’s also a bit of an erudite influence for those listeners who have studied more philosophy

than The Satanic Bible. “Heathen and Magus [the next full-length on the agenda] explore some of the ideas from Summit from the viewpoint of two extremes: the corporeal and the esoteric.”

Heathen is expected from Gilead Media this summer. —Justin M. Norton

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wormed

wormed

Spanish death metal experimentalists hitch their starliner to constant flux

W

orm’s astronomically high mindfuck factor doesn’t emanate from any single source. Their capacity for hammering fractal riffs into compositions that make string theory seem like shuffleboard?

Sure, it plays a role, as does the way they deploy superhuman technique in the service of post-human brutality. Speaking of inhuman, singer Phlegeton’s sonics figure, too. And the lyrics? ¶ “We continually draw inspiration from new developments in mathematics, fantasy, the science of human perception, cosmology and science fiction,” the quintet (in single-organism/ single-voice mode) email from their headquarters in Madrid.

“It’s something that gives us extra points as a death metal band.” ¶ It also helps their recorded-output-as-serializedspace opera m.o. flourish without landing their asses in a Terran cornfield. Simultaneously snubbing linearity itself and moving ever further from their early sources of inspiration (Cryptopsy, Suffocation and the like), Wormed made Exodromos a prequel to 2003’s Planisphærium. The story opens 2 0 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

roughly 5,000,000,000 years in the future, right around the time a quantum wormhole swallows the known universe. Even minus the onslaught of hyper-technical riffwork from guitarists and bassist J. Oliver, Migueloud and Guillemoth—even minus drummer Riky’s lightning sequences of blasts and fills—the lyrics alone are abstract enough to make Exodromos remarkably strange.

And then there are Phlegeton’s vocals, harmonically rich in a way that suggests simultaneous growls, croaks and pig squeals—as if he were a Tantric monk with two mouths. The only times the singer sounds even vaguely human are when he slips into spoken word, as on “Multivectorial.” But hearing a slightly less alien voice intone, “The ship begins the vortex mitosis / Antimatter chargers are now full of energy” makes the overtone-juiced “Proteomic spectrometer warns / Controlled multiple and guided disintegration” seemed all the more gloriously fucked.

But ultimately, the singer is just the ionized bow on a 15-dimensional box of hallucinogenic candy. Given the band’s penchant for folding complex structures into even more complex structures, which then find places in structures even more complex, it’s not surprising that their approach to composition is, for a genre where songs often start with random dips in the collective riff pool, more than a little nonstandard.

“Firstly, we work with an idea of the song,” the band writes. “Then we do the arrangements and details to make the song more complex and richer than it initially was. Finally, Phlegeton adds his concept and the lyrics to fix with the music. We try to create a space-like atmosphere, mixing dissonant riffs with constant rhythm and pattern changes, so that it feels like the listener is traveling through a turbulent black hole. In the beginning, our influences were pretty obvious. Now we have a very specific way of composing. We’re a lot more twisted.” —Rod Smith

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inter arma

I

nter Arma’s T.J. Childers thought Sky Burial might be a good name for the band’s upcoming Relapse debut as soon as he heard it. It was the name of the album’s closer— a nearly 13-minute lurching juggernaut of Childers’ own Bonham-style pounding, bellowing vocals and hypnotic riffing.

But when singer Mike Paparo told the rest of the band what a sky burial actually is—while driving back home to Richmond, VA from recording with Hellbender’s Mikey Allred at Dark Art Studio in Nashville—Childers was certain. ¶ “It‘s a Tibetan Buddhism thing where they take their dead up on a mountain and build these shrines, and essentially let vultures pick at them,” says Childers, who, in addition to handling drum duties, also wrote the music and played rhythm, acoustic guitar or lap steel on six of the album’s eight songs. “It’s kind of a recycling into nature and into the earth, so to speak. As soon as he told me all of that, I said, ‘That is the name of the fucking record, because that rules hard as shit.’” ¶ Formed in 2006, Inter Arma have steadily built a reputation for genre-busting heaviness with a series of releases, including 2012’s impressive 2 2 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

Inter Arma

The sun has come up for Richmond’s blackened groove spiritualists Destroyer EP on Toxic Assets, and a brutal live show. Following the album’s March release, they’ll hit the road with Brooklyn’s Mutilation Rites. The music is by turns grinding, psychedelic, punishing, delicate and even spiritual.

“I’ve had people come up to me after shows and tell me all kinds of wild shit,” Childers says. “Like, ‘Oh, I could see when you were playing you were giving off all this energy, and there was this vibe about it. It was very spiritual; it was like going to church.’ And I’m like, ‘Really?

Because I thought I was just thrashing and headbanging as hard as I could the entire time.’”

It’s easy to imagine such a spiritual ritual while listening to Sky Burial, which has already been named one of this magazine’s 20

Most Anticipated Albums of 2013.

Furious blast beats mimic the beating of wings. Raw shrieks bring to mind fighting birds. Soaring guitars, including a few licks that would have done David Gilmour proud at Pompeii, lift listeners above the cacophony, then slam them back to earth and keep them pinned there in a fury of blackened doom. Spacey sounds, courtesy of a Theremin and a Mellotron, contribute to the album’s otherworldliness.

According to Childers, the idea was to make the music as “out there and wild” as possible.

“That’s always the goal,” he says. “To me, it works sonically, but there might be some other people who listen to it and go, ‘What the fuck are these dudes doing?’”

—Karen A. Mann

ORANGE GOBLIN LIVE CD/DVD TAKEN FROM ORANGE GOBLIN'S PERFORMANCES AT HELLFEST AND BLOODSTOCK OPEN AIR 2012 includes the videos for “Red Tide Rising”, “Acid Trials,” and the Highway to Hellfest documentary.

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available now

available instores/online now

Winterfylleth

The Threnody of Triumph

Corrosion of Conformity

Corrosion of Conformity

Fear Factory The Industrialist

The Devil The Devil

Corrosion of Conformity

Anaal Nathrakh

Havok

Wodensthrone

Eye For An Eye

Point of No Return

candlelight

Vanitas

Curse

Vision of Disorder

Kontinuum

The Cursed Remain Cursed

Earth Blood Magic

Nine Covens

Daylight Dies

On the Dawning of Light

A Frail Becoming

join us at www.facebook.com/candlelightrecordsusa listen to us at www.candlelightrecordsusa.bandcamp.com follows us on twitter @candlelightusa find our extensive catalog on ITunes

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kommandant

We have met the Kommandant, and he is us

I

t’s hard to tell if our characterization of The Draconian Archetype as “semi-militaristic urban terror metal” rises from the inherent qualities of the music itself, or because we first encountered the band through a red-lit live performance video in which they play behind insectile gas masks while an executioner-hooded vocalist rants over the audience from a sharp-lined podium. The 10 grueling tracks on offer hardly want for malevolent marching orders. The band’s bio, however, cautions against facile cultural references: “Beyond the vaguely fascist aesthetic is a larger picture: This is not a 2 4 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

band that is paying homage to any regime of the past or a specific time period. Kommandant is art imitating life.”

“The title of our new album,” guitarist Jim Bresnahan states by email, “speaks to longing for the application of older, proven traditions and values to modern-day situational conflict. The internet age breeds false misinformation and passive-aggressive behavior on a scale never seen before in our

history, and this affects me greatly.

I find the best art is created when it is influenced by passion and rage simultaneously.”

Which appears to describe The Draconian Archetype well. The mesmerizing blend of concrete-toppling blasts and slow-bore vocal scrapings, the blur of stomach-twisting chords and half-chanted, anguished moaning converge to strike that oft-targeted/rarely pierced black metal beauty mark where all that ugliness finds its reason to be. But Kommandant don’t reach this squirming bulls-eye effortlessly; Bresnahan portrays the Draconian sessions as “labored and intense!

We expect a lot from each other, and tend to push each other in ways without precedent. This bleak, oppressive atmosphere in the studio is what I directly [credit for] the claustrophobic nature of the sound and production. Our songwriting reflects [a] futurist approach to some degree; today and forward into the future, and NEVER back into the past, which one can never affect.”

Like so much infernal torment of our time, Kommandant nest in Chicago. “The more touring I do, the more I realize how isolated we are from other parts of the country in terms of influences and attitude.

None of the bands sound alike, and this is in itself the ‘Chicago sound.’

There is no camaraderie among bands here, so to speak. Every band appears to be its own island, with pure reliance upon itself. Chicago has a very unforgiving atmosphere on many levels, and this may be what feeds the black-hearted aggression you mention.”

Of course, we’re here to talk about music, but certainly the band’s stage attire cuts a confrontational first impression. “There seems to be no middle ground reaction. Polar opposition. The people who love it have usually embraced our concept of open interpretation for the listener/viewer; the latter usually hate it due to ignorance.”

—Daniel Lake

cryptmist photography

kommandant

d e c i b e l : a p r i l 2 0 13 : 2 5

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kongh

kongh

C

Padded walls can’t contain sludgy Swedish monkey business

harlton Heston might perform a full 360 in his grave, but sometimes you’ve got to take an evolutionary step back and adopt the filthy-pawed etiquette of our simian forebears to get ahead in this world. That’s kinda what Kongh have done with Sole Creation. The ape has always been a totemic figure for the band—on the merch, in the name and so on—but now he’s making his debut on an album cover and inspiring guitarist/vocalist David Johansson’s artistic choices. “He was always like a mascot for us,” says Johansson. “We think of the music as a big ape. He’s heavy.

He’s big. He’s brutal. People get afraid of him, but at the same 2 6 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

time he has got emotions. He’s an individual. It tells you a lot about the music.”

Appropriately, Sole Creation is an LP of formidable construct, invoking the beast over four tracks of riff-heavy sorta-doom that’s epic’d out to the 10-minute mark with post-metal languor. Kongh recorded it during a week of 12-hour sessions, spending another week with Magnus Lindberg of Cult of Luna, who mixed and mastered it. “We were very focused,” says Johansson.

“When we started out, we jammed quite a lot, getting drunk in the rehearsal space and jamming until we found something we liked. Now we have developed a conscious way of how we want the music to sound.”

Johansson talks about Sole Creation having the primacy of rock ‘n’ roll, yet Kongh also shift moods and textures all the time; like on “Tamed Brute,” which seesaws between downcast calm and full-bore Donkey Kong barrelthrowing aggro. Right now Kongh are playing live as a trio, and it works. Johansson admits it’s easier, too. But after guest guitar solo on “The Portals” from John Doe of Craft, and Johansson writing more melodies and guitar harmony parts this time ’round, Kongh are thinking about bringing another guitarist into the troop. While lineup expansion is for the moment just a question mark in the long-term planner, jumping on a tour is the priority. The thing is, they’ll have to go some lengths to beat their first gig.

“That was in 2005, and we were living in Vetlanda,” recalls Johansson. “There was a girl we used to hang out with whose mother worked at a mental institution. She wanted the patients to experience something.

I don’t know why the hell they’d want to see Kongh, but she brought all these mental patients to our rehearsal space—and this was back in the day when we had just two songs and both of them were 25 minutes long. We played, they sat there and looked really uncomfortable. It was a weird experience; we were paid in flowers and tobacco.”

—Jonathan Horsley

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devourment

Devourment Dallas degenerates like to watch the (fictional) ladies suffer, but why?

T

here aren’t a lot of surprises when it comes to Devourment. New album, old albums, singles, splits, DVDs; when it comes to these Dallas death dealers, the brutality, gore and breakdowns trifecta will always have a particular segment of the extreme music population howling their support. If we’re being realistic about who’s doing that howling, it usually involves surly, patch vest and Purulent sweatpants-sporting dudes fucking shit up in the pit; the sort of fellers who wouldn’t think twice about getting the band’s DVD 2 cover tattooed somewhere uncomfortably conspicuous.

But not so fast. ¶ “We’ve actually got a decent contingent of female fans, which is cool, but odd, because most of the songs are about killing them,” says vocalist Mike Majewski, laughing uneasily. ¶ And if the growing number of Devourment tank tops we spot at Maryland Deathfest each year isn’t enough to have Naomi Wolf bawling into her vodka sour, the “Babes ‘n’ Brutality” pre-order package promoting the band’s latest and Relapse-released fourth full-length, Conceived in Sewage, 2 8 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

should do the trick. Featured items include logo and art-adorned slim-fit tops and booty shorts, and “Devour This” cheekily printed over the business end of skimpy thongs. While Majewski doesn’t get it himself, it seems that enough of the band’s demographic has no issue cheesing off their feminist sisters while symbolically inverting the equality movement in the name of death metal.

“There are a number of pretty twisted chicks out there into this kind of brutal death metal, even though there’s a lot of misogyny involved. I don’t know why that is, though. I’ve never actually ever asked anyone specifically why, or if they know what a lot of the lyrics are about.”

This is the path Devourment have blazed since their 1995 inception. Despite dealing with tragedy, incarceration and various lineups, goregrind perversity and brutal slamming have been the constants.

Old songs like “Fuck Her Head Off” and “Kill That Fucking Bitch” pave the way for Conceived in Sewage’s

NSFW ditties “Fucked With Rats” and “Carved Into Ecstasy,” which cause unisex heads to bang.

“Personally, I don’t understand the appeal either,” Majewski says, surprisingly, “but I’ve debated back and forth with people asking why I write this stuff, and if I think it’s detrimental. Generally, I tell them it’s entertainment that normal, everyday people wouldn’t get. I guess it’s like an adrenaline rush, like being on a roller coaster or something.”

However, it’s not just normal, everyday people who don’t gravitate to Devourment’s disembowelling visuals and stripped, raped and strangled sounds.

“Generally speaking, heavy music has been on an upswing in the last few years, probably because of social networking and the ability of the music to get out there a bit more. But when it comes to us, our fan base is a small but devoted group. There’s still no middle ground; you either love the shit out of us or hate us really bad.” —Kevin Stewart-Panko

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botanist

botanist

Business is booming in San Francisco black metaller’s little shop of horrors

T

hings are looking pretty grim for mankind.

Botanist IV: Mandragora—the latest chapter in the ongoing chronicle of the Botanist—finds the delusional eco-terrorist raising an army of plant-human hybrids to ensure the victory of the Plantae World over the diseased contrivances of humanity. However, even stranger forces are at work. The demon Azalea spreads poison ideas about the downfall of humankind, while the Verdant Messiah offers a less extremist viewpoint. Both entities speak through the Botanist, and the Botanist speaks through Otrebor, a San Francisco-based drummer and black metal vet (he also plays in the frenetic trio Orphidian Forest). And Otrebor? He speaks through e-mail, which is great, because we really need someone to clarify what the fuck is going here. ¶ “We, as inherently limited beings, cannot know God. However, that doesn’t mean that something that dictates the laws of existence, something that is far bigger than us, doesn’t exist,” explains Otrebor.

“I believe it does exist, and that the most tangible representation of that is the Natural world. That mankind callously, 3 0 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

thoughtlessly destroys that world is the biggest outrage of all. If the importance of the Natural world— and of plants, in Botanist’s specific case—cannot be apparent to all, then someone must speak for them.”

The scope of the Botanist narrative is dizzying: Otrebor is sitting on at least another fully-complete Botanist album, and purportedly has the overarching storyline mapped out through several more installments. Otrebor’s insatiable curiosity is reflected by the intricate lyrics—he’s as obsessed with phylum and plant physiology as Carcass were with medical textbooks. But what really sets Botanist apart is Otrebor’s compulsive need to slash, burn and rebuild on each successive release.

2011’s Botanist I: The Suicide Tree and Botanist II: A Rose From the Dead (packaged together as a single release) was Otrebor’s attempt to deliver short, grindcore-like blasts of creepiness. Last year’s follow-up, Botanist III: Doom in Bloom, was a self-

imposed experiment in stretching compositions out to their breaking points. Botanist IV: Mandragora falls somewhere in the middle, and offers a more succinct, “traditional” form of pagan black metal, albeit one guided by hammered dulcimer and drums only, with a heavy drone and classical influence.

“I’m not making any excuses about the material on III,” the auteur concludes. “The experiment was poignant and the sound was executed well based on the album’s intent: to make a slow, plodding, emotionally heavy record that was gripping… but also intentionally boring. Even though I like doom, part of that aesthetic appreciation is in its being boring, particularly the more extremely a band embraces that style. It’s more a question of living and learning.

This album is about half the length of the one before it—I don’t feel it’s coincidence that IV: Mandragora has the best flow of any Botanist album yet.” —Nick Green

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Entrench

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KEN mode’s powerful metallic post-hardcore showcases its blend of modern intensity and noise-rock influence.

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Living Mirrors

Amazingly technical and elegant progressive metal and rock.

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lightning swords of death

P

Third time may be the flesh-cutting charm for SoCal occultists

laces you might visit on the layman’s tour of Los Angeles metal landmarks: the Rainbow, where hair metal bands frolicked in the Aqua Net ’80s. Next stop: the Body Shop, a strip club celebrated by Mötley Crüe in “Girls, Girls, Girls.” ¶ Places you wouldn’t visit: the Mountain Bar, where a few overzealous fans cut their flesh with razors, burned money and credit cards, then smeared blood on walls during a Lightning Swords of Death performance. No surprise that the venue curtailed live shows after the evening.

“In a way, it was a very punk rock kind of thing,” vocalist Autarch (a.k.a. artist Farron Loathing) says. “People didn’t know what to do with us. We always ended up playing up in warehouses and art galleries, and even on rooftops.” ¶ Despite a firm footing in the underground, Lightning Swords of Death find themselves in an enviable position: Their music has been featured on a video game, and third album Baphometic Chaosium is their sophomore release from Metal Blade after years on 3 2 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

underground labels. Autarch describes the new record as a “love letter to Baphomet.” So, there won’t be any breakdowns, and the caustic yet otherworldly approach of earlier albums will remain—albeit with new twists.

“Rather than spell out the record, I want people to experience it,” Autarch says. “There are armchair occultists and people who do the work. We always encourage people to do the work.”

LSOD formed when Autarch met guitarist Roskva in Los Angeles roughly 15 years ago. “We met the same way a lot of people in this scene do—through T-shirts. I think he had on a Voivod shirt,” Autarch says. As their friendship grew, they looked to create music. It took years and a succession of drummers to find the final pieces. “We had to eternally seek the right rhythm section because without the right drums, there wouldn’t

be a Lightning Swords of Death. “ Autarch viewed Baphometic Chaosium as a challenge because many metal bands make or break their careers on third albums (think Piece of Mind, Reign in Blood, Into the Pandemonium and Master of Puppets).

“The third record always seems to be the moment when metal bands emerge from the chrysalis,” he says.

“The third record can really carve out a band’s true form.”

The Sunset Strip today is more a magnet for people who watched too many Guns N’ Roses videos, rather than a legitimate musical hub. Don’t look for LSOD to play there soon.

“The Rainbow has really good pizza, but the whole idea of L.A. bands working this strip is just for transplants,” Autarch says. “Some people believe the whole thing still exists.

I was born here and I never even associated with that shit.”

—Justin M. Norton

adam murrary

Lightning Swords of Death

NO

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d e c i b e l : a p r i l 2 0 13 : 3 3

Something seemed off with the vocals, something in his voice nags me. I can’t even come up with more to say about this, sorry...

Neurosis , “My Heart for Deliverance” track

04

•••••••

Uncle Acid & the Deadbeats, “Withered Hand of Evil” from: Blood Lust [THE SKINNY] Biting the hand that bleeds

CALL&RESPONSE

LivJagrell To celebrate her band’s recently released fourth LP, Now and Forever, we sent Sister Sin vocalist/part-time personal trainer Liv Jagrell seven extreme tracks, identified only by title.

We should’ve just given her the Rocky IV soundtrack.

track

01

•••••••

Cradle of Filth, “For Your Vulgar Delectation” from: The Manticore and Other Horrors [THE SKINNY] Virgin cunts still aquiver

This is a bit too much “Norwegian black” for me. It sounded like they attempted to be evil and dramatic. I do like some of the riffs, but I’m not so fond of the keyboards. When I was a teenager, most of my female friends listened to this kind of metal all the time, but I never got really hooked on it. It definitely takes me back to my teenage years a bit. It’s totally OK, though; it certainly works if you’re in a somber mood and need something dark to go with it. Probably not my first choice of Christmas music.

3 4 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

track

02

•••••••

Enforcer, “Black Angel” from: Into the Night [THE SKINNY] Howie Kendrick approves

Oh, I think I know this one.

They are Swedish [emoticon deleted—ed]. Maybe not exactly my cup of tea. It’s a bit too hysterical; I get stressed out by listening to it for too long.

But the genre is kind of popular here, and they are doing a good job at it. I think we will see much more of these guys, and since they are Swedish, I want to support them.

track

03

•••••••

Suffocation, “As Grace Descends” from: Blood Oath [THE SKINNY] “Almost too awesome,” maybe

Heavy shit—almost too heavy for me. If I’m in a very angry mood, this could work as a way to just get rid of frustration, but not more than one song a time. Maybe if you are soooo angry you’re out to destroy your apartment, then yes, the whole album will definitely help with that. Hell, it could be a good choice if you are boxing, too!

Nah, this is too ’70s for me. I know this type of genre is also very popular over here, like Graveyard and such, but I just don’t feel it. I get bored too fast, and it’s just too slow.

The vocals are a bit interesting, though. Maybe I would get into it after some more listening and a good bottle of red wine.

track

05

•••••••

Rage Nucléaire, “Violence Is Golden” from: Unrelenting Fucking Hatred [THE SKINNY] Unrelenting fucking rhetorical questions UUUURRRRRKKK, turn it off! I have such a hard time getting this kind of music. It’s just too much of everything. Who’s playing what? And do they play at all? There is no groove, no feeling, no rock—just noise. I do not like it at all.

Why? Please tell me why?

track

06

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Neurosis, “My Heart for Deliverance” from: Honor Found in Decay [THE SKINNY] The bun that didn’t toast

This has a super long intro. Wait for it… and then... too slow, too boring, nothing is happening. It could have been OK, but I lost interest in two seconds.

Something seemed off with the vocals, something in his voice nags me. I can’t even come up with more to say about this, sorry...

track

07

•••••••

Doro, “Raise Your Fist in the Air” from: Raise Your Fist [THE SKINNY] Punch-drunk love

Haha, yeah, I know Doro when I hear her! The charming German accent can’t be mistaken for anyone else. This is definitely more my type of music. It has that classic ‘80s rock/metal [feel], just like the Warlock days.

Maybe the lyrics are a bit cheesy, but it’s all part of the things I like about Doro and always have!

She knows how to rock! Raise your fist! A

GRAPHIC wORK mUSH-DESIGN

3 DOORS DOwN ATTENTAT ROCK AUDREY HORNE BLACK SPIDERS DANKO JONES DOwN HARDCORE SUPERSTAR HEAVEN’S BASEmENT KISSIN DYNAmITE KROKUS mUSTASCH wALKING PAPERS wALTARI

A DAY TO REmEmBER THE ARRS ASKING ALEXANDRIA COAL CHAmBER DR LIVING DEAD THE GHOST INSIDE HEATHEN HELLOwEEN HELLYEAH KREATOR mASS HYSTERIA PAPA ROACH PARKwAY DRIVE RIVERSIDE SKINDRED SSS SYmPHONY X TESTAmENT

AmORPHIS ASPHYX BETwEEN THE BURIED AND mE CANDLEmASS CAPTAIN CLEANOFF CEREmONIAL OATH CRYPTOPSY DEAD CONGREGATION EVOKEN HAERmORRHAGE HOODED mENACE KRISIUN mISANTHROPE mISERY INDEX mONSTROSITY mOONSPELL mY DYING BRIDE THE OLD DEAD TREE PIG DESTROYER SINISTER T.A.N.K wINTERSUN

ABSU AURA NOIR CARPATHIAN FOREST DARK FUNERAL EQUILIBRIUm THE GREAT OLD ONES IHSAHN INQUISITION KAmPFAR KOLDBRANN KORPIKLAANI LEPROUS mARDUK NACHTmYSTIUm PRImORDIAL ROTTING CHRIST SETH STILLE VOLK TYR

7 wEEKS BLACK BREATH BLACK COBRA BLACK PYRAmID CLUTCH CULT OF LUNA EAGLE TwIN ERYN NON DAE GRAVEYARD KARmA TO BURN mANILLA ROAD mY SLEEPING KARmA PALLBEARER PROCESSION RED FANG THE SECRET SPIRITUAL BEGGARS SURTR THE SwORD TRUCKFIGHTERS UNCLE ACID AND THE DEADBEATS VOIVOD wITCHCRAFT

THE ACACIA STRAIN AGNOSTIC FRONT ANTI FLAG ATARI TEENAGE RIOT LE BAL DES ENRAGES BANE BERRI TXARRAK BURY YOUR DEAD CASUALTIES COCKNEY REJECTS CONVERGE THE DECLINE DEEZ NUTS GALLOwS JUSTINE NEGATIVE APPROACH PUNISH YOURSELF RETOX SENSER TERROR VERA CRUZ

AND MORE THAN 10 OTHER BANDS • FOR INFO & TICKETS, STAY TUNED ON www.HEllFEST.FR d e c i b e l : a p r i l 2 0 13 : 3 5

3 6 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

by Kevin Stewart-Panko

Members, cameras and hiatuses come and go as Suffocation approach the pinnacle

S

ince forming in 1988, Suffocation have whittled the write-record-tour

cycle down to routine science. Nothing ever seems to slow the Long Island-based graybeards from delivering hammer-smashing blows like Hall of Fame entry Effigy of the Forgotten, the equally ferocious Pierced From Within and the forthcoming Pinnacle of Bedlam. Not even the injection of a four-year hiatus during the late ’90s/early ’00s into the flowchart has muted the Suffocation attack.

You’d think having original drummer Mike Smith leave the fold for the second time last February would account for some downtime.

It didn’t. They simply hollered down to Dave Culross, who hopped on the nearest horse-andbuggy and made his way up to Long Island from Florida to help his old pals out (ironically, Culross was also Smith’s successor back in 1997).

You’d think having burly frontman and Clown Prince of Between-Song Banter Frank Mullen announce that he was stepping back from lengthy tours (because, as guitarist Terrance Hobbs explains, “Frank’s an adult, man!”) would be one of the final pulled blocks that’d have Suffo collapsing like a gigantic death metal Jenga. Nope. They got on the horn to Bill (Decrepit Birth) Robinson and played shows.

When Mullen’s work and family schedule permitted, they gigged with him. And somewhere in there, they wrote their seventh record.

Even if it doesn’t seem as simple as that, it’s as simple as that.

It hasn’t all been negativity and obstacles the last couple of years, however. This past October, Suffocation joined Neil Sedaka, Billy Joel and Louis Armstrong as members of the Long Island Music Hall of Fame, previous album Blood Oath cracked Billboard, they toured South America with Napalm Death. Not bad… not bad at all. And when Hobbs describes engineering and promotion issues as the hardest parts about recording Pinnacle of Bedlam, either he’s on the crest of a rose-colored wave, delusional, the king of shrugging his shoulders and moving along, or all of the above.

“Yeah, it was being able to turn around and get the sounds that we wanted,” Hobbs starts with a chuckle. “As far as playing the music and working on it, it was pretty cohesive; everyone was on the same page. The hardest part was getting tones. We’re musicians, not engineers. So, what we get out of our amplifiers and drums, we wanted represented in [the

listener’s] speakers, and that’s what a good engineer like [Chris] Zeuss [Harris] is all about.

He took our performance and made it sound like what we should sound like. And obviously, it was a little bit hard being in the eye of the camera the whole time…”

Hobbs is referring to the team of cameras that followed the band’s every move in and around the studio for the “Making Of” DVD footage/feature. Whereas a few years ago, having cameras capture the studio process was a novel and unique way to move albums and allow fans to connect with bands on increasingly personal levels, this sort of thing is old hat today. However, Hobbs remembers when cameras weren’t ubiquitous, and having a lens in your face wasn’t on par with shitting, showering and shaving in terms of regularity.

opening experience as far as the documenting, editing and getting the vibe of the band. I had a great time with it and, as we move forward, I’m going to have to get more used to it!”

Hobbs describes the approach to the new album as completely new to everyone involved.

Due to a punishing tour schedule, a key member change and the growing list of at-home responsibilities—which saw Mullen contributing less to Suffocation and more to Mrs. Mullen and their two kids—the band found themselves writing individually and on the road, recording during a solid block of time as opposed to having the studio process spread out over long, relaxed weeks. Pinnacle of Bedlam comes across as more involved and intricate than past works, and whether that’s due to the inherent frenzy of a less flexible approach, Hobbs isn’t sure.

What he is sure about is that the album drips with brutal, technical death metal that pays as much attention to songwriting as it does to quirkiness and otherworldly guitar solos based in scales and modes handed down via dreams featuring multi-tentacled, virtuoso aliens. As expected, Pinnacle of Bedlam is the criss-crossing of Neanderthal foot-and-fist-pounding, with

We’re old farts, man—I still like to use my home phone and not my cell phone—and I had never experienced being in front of cameras all the time. But it was an eye-opening experience as far as the documenting, editing and getting the vibe of the band. —Terrance Hobbs “OK, maybe that was the hardest part,” he says jovially, after cutting himself off to rethink recent history. “Normally, we’re OK with a bunch of cameras side-stage, or doing an interview here and there, but to have somebody there every day for four weeks, capturing your every move and every word… that becomes a little odd and uncomfortable. But the guy who did the video for us, Tommy Jones, was fucking amazing!

I guess the younger generation is used to having cameras in their faces and around them all the time. I’m not into that. We’re old farts, man—I still like to use my home phone and not my cell phone—and I had never experienced being in front of cameras all the time. But it was an eye-

mathematician smarts molding the foundation.

“The majority of the time we hung out and worked on this record together,” Hobbs says, “was in the studio, where we had four or five weeks of us being able to be together as a unit and express our ideas to one another. That was the key to it being able to be put together in the studio; it came across very professionally, and it’s obviously the best thing we’ve ever done. The approach may have been a little different in us having to juggle everyone’s lives, writing like we’ve never written before, using fill-ins and so on. It’s a lot of work playing in Suffocation, but I’m stoked about this album, really stoked!” A d e c i b e l : a p r i l 2 0 13 : 3 7

“Hate in general has always served us well, never specifically directed. Portal continues to serve as an outlet in this way.” horror illogium 3 8 : m a r c h 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

Portal’s

masks of sanity slipped a long time ago

by Daniel Lake

B

en Stein and Jim Carrey nailed it on the head, man: “We all wear masks.” Whether you whip on a necktie or zip into a rubber hood, don an executioner’s lid or fix a cuckoo clock over your head, sometimes the mask is the only way to face the world. But the ritual of costume does not always arise from a desire to obfuscate identity. ¶ “Anonymity has never been the modus operandi,” states Portal spokeswraith, guitarist Horror Illogium. “It is the feeling we ourselves are subjected to, they serve as vessels for our escape; moreso it exposes the inner self even further—a reflection of where these life forms may have hatched? Anyone of us can stand up and be faced—you’ll find it’s the same beings that are ‘obscured’ on stage.”

Clearly, masks need not be physical in nature. Opacity can be achieved equally well through the use of stage titles (Horror Illogium summons infernal essences alongside rhythm guitarist Aphotic Mote, bassist Omenous Fugue, drummer Ignis Fatuus and phantasmal vocalist the Curator) and vague, warped responses to Decibel interview questions. When describing the band’s May 2010 trip to the U.S., Horror Illogium muses, “An interesting excursion to explore parts of the American terrain. MDF itself was a great way to end the tour; the largest volume of witnesses thus far.”

Given the superior caliber of Portal’s recorded output thus far, the Brisbane quintet has little need to draw back the veil to pollute their shrouded antiverse with this dimension’s puerile photon radiation. While staunch defenders of true death metal might come down with constipation-face when confronted with the bewildering vertigo of Portal’s layered onslaught, our own Decibel taste-flayers bestowed a lofty 9 on former triumph Swarth and recognized 2007’s Outré as one of the very best death metal albums of all time. “[New album] Vexovoid for the most part has delved deeper into what was established on prior albums,” Horror Illogium admits.

“However, there are new pathways that have opened up, especially in terms of production.

Being that Aphotic Mote has recorded the last three albums, [our recording and production techniques have] reached a point of deliberation. Vexovoid was calculated more than Outré

and Swarth because those were stepping stones in the way of recording.”

Given that three and a half years have passed since Swarth burrowed its way into our dark hearts, we might guess that Portal had rested on those songs for quite some time before getting to work on this third outing on Profound Lore. That guess would be wrong.

“The process for Vexovoid began immediately after the release of Swarth in late 2009. Not unlike the other albums, structures were built upon by the percussive part of the band, deconstructed and rebuilt,” the guitarist continues on, explaining why songwriting is such a vital and immediate concern. “Song creation is the most rewarding; a step by step evolution process, a life of its own. Experimenting occurs in the demo stages, finding the right combination of equipment to complement and enhance the music. Studio work is the sculpting and perfecting. It lives again on stage.”

Vexovoid’s praising of Lovecraftian terrors is most convincing because of its masterful alchemy of chaos and regal majesty. Drums rumble threateningly, then clatter an adrenaline-spiking alarm while the parchment-lunged Curator calls his stately admonitions into the abyss. Guitars somehow evoke menacing tentacles snaking out of the impenetrable shadows and simultaneously warble their own reverent hymns to the unseen but very present, very potent creatures from an ancient darkness. In keeping with past emissions of evil, Vexovoid draws deeply from the death metal well, with

one foot sunk always in the worshipful ecstasy that lends its allure to black metal conjurers like Nightbringer. Naturally, none of the nightmarishly hermetic results qualify as pleasant.

“Hate in general has always served us well, never specifically directed. Portal continues to serve as an outlet in this way.”

For many of us (yours truly included), Outré offered a first encounter with Portal’s churning death, signifying just one glittering facet of Profound Lore’s map-altering presence in 2007 that included defining releases from Cobalt, Alcest, WOLD and the Angelic Process. Third eye-peeling label head Chris Bruni recalls: “A notable acquaintance of mine brought [my] awareness to [Portal] when the initial limited pressing of their first album Seepia came out. I thought it was one of the most deranged and psychotic death metal albums I had ever heard; this feeling was heightened when I witnessed the imagery that conspired with this death metal psychosis. Aesthetically, I connected with it immediately, one of the few death metal bands I could consider cinematic, having the same vibe as those vintage black & white silent films directed by Fritz Lang, Robert Wiene, [F.W.] Murnau or [Carl Theodore] Dreyer—just through the lens of death metal. It was really easy to do another pressing of Seepia, which was the label’s first prominent CD release.”

As prolific death enthusiast Cosmo Lee has stated in these very pages, there is an undeniable, um, sepia quality to the sounds Portal have produced over the last 10+ years.

Adjectives like “throwback” or “old-school” are entirely inaccurate, but if anthropologists climbed out of questionably dormant volcano tomorrow with evidence that some dusty cult of yore had revved amps in pursuit of sleeping Cthulhu, we wouldn’t be surprised to find out they sounded like Portal. In the words of Horror Illogium himself: “We set out to capture a cinematic horror scope.” Mission accomplished. Vexovoid represents the next claustrophobic link in Portal’s “potent, ugly and crushing evolution.” A d e c i b e l : a p r i l 2 0 13 : 3 9

QA sebastian Bach w i t h

Former skid row singer is stone cold sober and can’t sit still by j. bennett

4 0 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

D

ecember 9, 1999: My barely competent attorney, Juan Perez, and I are at a Sebastian Bach show in Nashua, NH. The joint is called Sharky’s.

I’m pretty sure they’ve got slot machines, but I could be making that part up. After the show—yeah, it was awesome—we spot a couple of skanks leaning against the bar, waiting to be escorted backstage for an audience with Baz. These girls, they’re straight out of ’87: teased hair, ripped fishnets, short leather jackets, hoop earrings, makeup applied with a spatula, the full creature-double-feature. In other words: HAWT. This is New Hampshire, remember. At a place called Sharky’s.

Which is pretty much all you need to know. Well, almost. Because then Skank One turns to Skank Two, waves three fingers in front of her own tropical-fishlike visage and asks, “How’s the face?” ¶ It was an excellent fucking question.

One that we’re almost tempted to ask Bach himself when we call him up on the Decibel hotline to talk about his new CD/DVD release, ABachalypse Now. (That’s what it’s called—we asked him three times to make sure he wasn’t fucking with us.) We caught up with our man and his lady friend Minnie Gupta as they cruised Hollywood Boulevard looking for a parking spot.

Yesterday was your anniversary— congratulations.

Thanks, man! Yeah, my two-year anniversary.

I’m in a committed, monogamous relationship and… huh? What? [Minnie is talking in the background.] She just told me I sound like a fruitcake.

What can I say? Minnie is a very smart girl.

She’s given me the ultimatum in the last two years—either put down the booze or put down her. So, I’m about 60 days sober now, for the first time since I was maybe 12. [Laughs] And I have to give all the credit to her. In many ways, she has saved my life. I’m 44 years old, and I’ve been partying for decades. There’s so many people that die from this lifestyle. Or they lose their looks, lose their careers, lose their talent. All I wanna do is rock ‘n’ roll for the rest of my life, and that’s what I’m gonna do. I need to realize I’m not 18 years old, even though I still feel like it. Did you hear that? My wife just laughed.

Sobriety can be a tough thing to manage when you’re not used to it and everyone around you is drinking.

You know, Jerry Cantrell from Alice in Chains is one of my good buddies, and he doesn’t drink anymore. I was at a Halloween party with him and Minnie last year, everyone was all dressed up, and I really wanted a drink. It was just an overwhelming craving because everybody else was and I wasn’t. So, Jerry came over to me and I go, “Dude, I just want a fuckin’ drink right now, but I’m trying not to drink.” He kinda talked me off the ledge, he goes: “Well, that’s a really good tip for someone who wants to stick around for a while.” It’s a simple sentiment, but it’s pretty powerful, too. Don’t get me wrong, though—if  p h o t o b y c l ay p at r i c k m c b r i d e

anyone reading this wants to drink and go crazy, go for it. I’m not trying to put anything down.

But I’ve partied a lot in my life—like, a lot. I’ve had people die around me. I mean, the list of people who die from the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle is endless. I just don’t want to be a casualty. And I want my nose to look nice. I don’t wanna look like W.C. Fields.

at all. I’m not doing death metal or grindcore.

I’m not doing Cookie Monster vocals. It’s more like Judas Priest or Journey—those are my two main influences, pretty much. I don’t think Steve Perry was hammered out of his skull when he cut “Open Arms,” but maybe he was.

[Laughs] I don’t know.

I understand you two went to Disneyland to celebrate. What’s your favorite ride?

Yeah, Disneyland—the happiest place on Earth.

I like Space Mountain and the Little Mermaid ride. Why does the Little Mermaid wear seashells? Because she grew out of her B-shells!

[Laughs] So, you’ve got this live DVD coming out, ABachalypse Now. Why not Bach in the Saddle or Bach in Black?

I just thought a cinematic visual presentation called ABachalypse Now that you put in your DVD player is tough to beat. It’s a pretty hilarious title. It’s got three concerts, one from Hellfest in France, one from Club Nokia in Los Angeles, and one from the Graspop festival in Belgium. Two of the concerts—Hellfest and Nokia—we recorded to 24-track, and I went into the studio afterward to make them perfect because those are also coming out on CD. Graspop was not recorded to multi-track—it’s

I practice all the time. I do my scales.

This is what I’m good at. I’m not good at dealing with insurance companies or, you know, FEMA. Or Ted Kennedy.

[Laughs] Exactly! I mean, I wanna be with this girl for the rest of my life. She has many options, you know? And she told me, “Sebastian, I’ve never looked around the room and saw the drunkest guy at the party and thought, ‘That’s the guy for me.’” [Laughs] Well put, right? But I’m actually surprised that I’m capable of sobriety because rock ‘n’ roll is something I’ve done my whole life. There’s something about doing a gig in front of 20,000 people and then coming offstage and partying and drinking with everybody. That’s just the way it’s been. And I’d tell Minnie, “It’s just part of rock ‘n’ roll.” She said, “But you’ve never once gone onstage drunk. So, how can it be a part of rock ‘n’ roll?” It’s like, duh. And it’s true—I’ve never performed drunk. The style of singing I do is not conducive to that

just two channels—and I was not allowed to overdub or repair anything, so it’s a completely live concert. And personally that’s my favorite one to watch, because it was the earliest I ever went onstage in my life. I think we played at like noon or 1 p.m., and there was a torrential downpour. I was singing in a puddle, and I was such a whiny little bitch leading up to this gig. I was backstage going, “Fuck this! I can’t go on at noon—I’ve been doing this my whole life! I’m too old for this shit.” I was whining and whining and whining. But I finally got my ass out onstage, you’ll see this, and I couldn’t run around because the stage was wet and I would’ve went flying. So, all I could do was stand there and belt out the fucking metal with my voice. And I was so mad that I sang incredibly. [Laughs] I was punishing the world with my fucking pipes of doom, dude. [4] d e c i b e l : a p r i l 2 0 13 : 41

overlooked quite a bit. I mean, you were just a kid. When the band exploded like that, it must’ve really turned your life upside-down.

It’s all I know. When people ask me, “What’s it like to be a rock star?” I don’t know what to say. I’ve been doing this since I was 14, and I’ll be 45 in two months. Unfortunately, there’s a side to it that most people don’t get to see. Bruce Springsteen mentioned it in an interview a few months ago, though. The question was something like, “How did you know you wanted to play music for a living?” And he said, “I was really good at music and really bad at everything else.”

And that’s true for me, too. I focus my whole being on kicking ass and being a great performer, a great singer. But I recently lost my home in a hurricane, and that’s something I don’t know how to deal with. I don’t know how to do normal things. It’s hard to explain. I can make my dreams come true, but I literally do not know where I’m sleeping tonight.

Why not?

“I said Bling H20!”

Bach kicks up a fuss onstage, circa now

What else can you tell us about it?

I actually learned a lot making this DVD. I’m not 19 years old anymore, so selecting the footage for this DVD taught me that, unfortunately, possibly in the future I will not be running around and headbanging onstage as much. [Laughs] The reason is that YouTube has completely changed rock ‘n’ roll. Everything you do when you’re onstage is on YouTube the very next day. So, in the past, when you would jump off the drum riser and do a kick like David Lee Roth or something, you have to be so perfect these days that it’s really kind of changed things. So, a lot of times when I was selecting the footage for this DVD, I’d go with the stuff when I would just stand there and sing. The difference in the vocals when I’m not running around, it’s amazing. It just makes it a completely different show.

You’ve had death metal guys like Ralph Santolla and Steve DiGiorgio in your band at various points.

Do you listen to much of that kind of music?

Oh, yeah. I don’t even know where to begin. I was born in ’68, so I was about 12 or 13 when the New Wave of British Heavy Metal made it over here.

My favorite bands were Venom, Anvil, Exciter, Razor, Trouble—that first cassette with the tree on the front—I collected all that stuff. I used to read Kick*Ass Monthly by Bob Muldowney out of New York. I waited in line when King Diamond did a signing session for [Mercyful Fate’s] Don’t Break the Oath. I was into that stuff more than anybody I knew. Anvil used to rehearse right 4 2 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

next door to us. I bought Metal on Metal before Metallica was big. I saw Slayer the first time they played Toronto—I was like 14. They played this place called Larry’s Hideaway. There were maybe 10 people there, and I was one of them. I went to hang out at their hotel room with them afterwards. I was hanging with Slayer when I was 14!

That makes total sense. Skid Row got lumped in with Poison and Mötley Crüe, but you guys were so much heavier—especially the Slave to the Grind album.

Well, music is very subjective, you know? We did the first Skid Row album when I was about 20 years old, and we did Slave to the Grind when I was maybe 23. I had actually learned how to sing better in that time, just from touring. My voice had become more manly and powerful when we did Slave to the Grind. But when I was writing for [2011 solo album] Kicking & Screaming, I wrote a bunch of material with Jamey Jasta of Hatebreed.

I love hardcore metal, but to me, my biggest strength when I sing is when I sing clean and clear and pure. No screaming, just really concentrating on tone. Ozzy Osbourne sings clean and pure—he’s not screaming—and who’s heavier than Black Sabbath? He has a very underrated voice. To me, it’s more challenging to sing properly than just screaming. And plenty of people can scream—very few people can actually sing.

You mentioned that you were 20 when you did the first Skid Row album. I feel like that fact gets

Because I’m moving from the East Coast to the West Coast, and I’m dealing with a lot of shit I don’t know how to deal with. It’s enough effort to hit the high note at the end of “I Remember You.” People go, “Wow, how do you do that?”

Well, I practice all the time. I do my scales. This is what I’m good at. I’m not good at dealing with insurance companies or, you know, FEMA. Like try getting Ozzy on the phone with FEMA. [Laughs] It’s not gonna work.

I heard about your house getting hit by Irene.

Was it totally destroyed?

It’s totally condemned. It’s the same house I had on MTV Cribs. I’m gonna rebuild it and sell it, I guess, but it’s crazy to deal with. I mean, it’s crazy for anyone to deal with. In the entertainment industry, if someone loses their home, it’s usually because of the entertainment industry. They can’t maintain their lifestyle because of changing trends or their band broke up or whatever. I never had that problem. But then a fuckin’ hurricane comes along. [Laughs] I already beat the odds, but then that happens? For fuck’s sake.

You’ve always been outspoken about your admiration for Ace Frehley. Did you read his recent book, No Regrets?

I did, and here’s what I’d say about that: Ace Frehley has always been one of the funniest guys in rock, but that book is not funny. Ace’s humor doesn’t exist in that book. There’re more exclamation marks in one of my tweets than in that entire book. There’s no fun. When you’re writing a book, that’s forever. When you’re dead, your book will live on. So, you want to have a positive message—at least I do. But he calls the book No Regrets and then describes in detail about drunkdriving 100 miles an hour the wrong way on the turnpike. [Laughs] To me, that might qualify as one regret. A

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story by

Justin M. Norton

photos by

Raymond Ahner

An exhaustive Decibel tour of the East Bay’s historic extreme landscape

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D.R.I.

bassist Harald Oimoen bounds into the lobby of

an elementary school administrative office. Petite backpacks and sneakers line the hallway. It’s September 27, the 26th anniversary of Metallica bassist Cliff Burton’s death, and Oimoen is leading a group of us on an unofficial tour of East Bay metal landmarks. Our first stop is a school where a Burton memorial is tucked in a hidden thicket near a soccer field, the same school where his mother once taught. ¶ In retrospect, it’s probably not best to have a tall, graying metalhead saunter into an elementary school, especially wearing a huge backpatch featuring the conjoined demon twins from Bonded by Blood. I’m surprised they don’t send Oimoen to detention or ask for a hall pass. ¶ The receptionist, who has likely seen similar bedraggled visitors, says: “Normally we don’t let you see Cliff Burton during school hours,” like Burton is in the back lot jamming. Since it’s a school day and children abound, we politely exit. We agree on our way out that dB (jeans and T-shirt) should have asked for permission to roam the grounds. Our intrepid photographer returns later in the day to get the photo. ¶ The Burton memorial is the first stop on a daylong journey into the heart of East Bay metal country with Oimoen and Brian Lew, who photographed the earliest days of the thrash scene, later collected in Murder in the Front Row: Shots From the Bay Area Thrash Metal Epicenter (Bazillion Points). Along the way, we met or talked to people have been making the East Bay special for decades, and charmed our way into Metallica’s old house. Join us and discover why the region produced (and is still home to) some of the most inimitable metal ever recorded—and find out where to go if you decide to visit.

THE METAL MECCA A compelling argument could be made that American heavy metal began in the East Bay. For those unfamiliar with the region, it’s the cluster of cities and towns in Northern California across the bay from San Francisco, including Oakland, Berkeley, part of Contra Costa County and the surrounding areas. It’s where Metallica moved when Los Angeles just wasn’t heavy enough to accommodate their uncompromising music.

From their base in the El Cerrito, just a block from a Burger King and a gas station, they conquered the music world.

“For me, the East Bay thrash scene was family,” says Metallica guitarist/vocalist James Hetfield, who lived for years in El Cerrito as the band grew from club mainstay to arena fixture. “We had our own way of doing things. Our own way of music, our own way of talking, our own way of thinking and, of course, our own way of partying.

Aggressive music bonded us no matter how tough times were. It was truly us against the world.”

While Metallica is the region’s best-known export, they are only part of the story. The East Bay is also where the short-lived makeupwearing Slayer lineup played in the early ’80s.

For me, the East Bay thrash scene was family. We had our own way of doing things. Our own way of music, our own way of talking, our own way of thinking and, of course, our own way of partying. james hetfield It’s where Paul Baloff, Gary Holt and Exodus stoked the earliest pits. The photos on the back of the Possessed album Seven Churches were shot in a backyard in Pinole (by Oimoen). The three founding members of Neurosis met in a warehouse in Emeryville—an area now crowded with high-priced condominiums, cookware shops and maternity boutiques. Neurosis returned home last fall for a rare one-night Oakland appearance at the Fox Theater for the Honor Found in Decay release party. The East Bay is also home to Autopsy, Testament, Death Angel and about a fourth of the bands in your record collection.

Creativity and risk-taking flourish here.

HEADING OUT TO THE HIGHWAY It’s an early fall morning. Decibel picks up Oimoen in front of his apartment, located about five minutes from downtown Oakland. “Harald O” is the perfect guide; he loves to talk and has memories older than most of dB’s readers. It seems like he was cryogenically frozen in 1984, and has just emerged from ice like Captain America to discover that we listen to music on computers, and that bands like Black Veil Brides are inconceivably popular.

In 20 years, when he’s a septuagenarian, Oimoen will be taking tourists on bus tours

The bell still tolls Burton's schoolyard memorial (l) and childhood home (r)

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 Let the righteous ones in Lew (l) and Oimoen infiltrate the "Metallica mansion as it stands today

of metal landmarks. We share laughs that Decibel drives a Subaru hatchback with a Leviathan CD in the front seat, and talk about Oimoen’s infamous Maryland Deathfest appearance (he drunkenly danced on stage during a Watain set and received a beatdown). “I had a pentagram-shaped wound from that,” he says.

We get coffee and meet Lew (a.k.a. Umlaut) and photographer Raymond Ahner in Castro Valley, a suburb about 15 minutes past Oakland. Our first stop is the Cliff Burton memorial (address withheld at family request to maintain privacy).

As mentioned, things didn’t go so well, so our next stop is Burton’s childhood home, 20444 Stanton Ave. in Castro Valley. Burton grew up in Apartment 1 on the first floor of this modest property. His parents managed the building.

Castro Valley—a suburb on the outskirts of the East Bay—looks like it hasn’t changed much in a quarter-century, despite the presence of Chipotle and Starbucks. It’s daunting to think about the riffs that might have been conceived in a place you’d normally pass by without a second thought.

INSIDE METALLICA’S BIRTHPLACE We head back east. Metallica’s formative years were spent at the “Metallica Mansion” at 3132 Carlson Ave., in El Cerrito, a working class town that’s gentrified in recent years. While Oimoen isn’t the best person to send first into a school, he’s somehow befriended the homeowner, who inconceivably lets us inside and lights a hookah.

Lew hasn’t been inside in 30 years, when he spent quality time taking pictures of Lars Ulrich, Hetfield, Burton, Kirk Hammett and (for real) Dave Mustaine. Burton’s first rehearsal with

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 Metal up your ass (l) Oimoen christens Hetfield's latrine; (r) Ruthie's Inn, all "lit" up

Lew says. “When Metallica left on tour, people just partied here. They used it as a party house.”

It’s an exciting moment, but also bittersweet.

Years have passed, lives have changed, relationships faded. Homes hold stories that are often forgotten for later generations of residents. This one has many. “There’s so much history in these walls. Now, it’s just a house,” Lew says. “It’s been remodeled. They once had abandoned, trashed cars parked right on the lawn.”

Metallica was in this living room. “Do you know the history of the house?” he asks the owner.

Lew is amazed at the facelift—and the cleanliness. “It looks nice now,” he says.

During Metallica’s residence, the mansion— actually just two rooms and a bathroom—was a sty. Now, you’d let your younger sister stay overnight. The floors are the same, but it’s 21st century chic, spartan and modern. A garage

once used for practice has been razed; condominiums have taken the spot. A band photo from the Master of Puppets era was shot on a couch in the living room. There’s a new couch that looks straight out of the IKEA showroom.

The bathroom here housed more partying casualties than Lew can remember. It needs to be asked: How many people puked in this bathroom in the 1980s? “Oh, hundreds, if not thousands,”

Caught in the Web

ELSEWHERE IN BERKELEY It’s time to move on. We follow San Pablo Avenue from El Cerrito toward Berkeley, turn right and arrive at 924 Gilman St. It’s a nonprofit, volunteer club to this day, and hosts events like the Speed Trials, where grind bands play as fast they can for 15 minutes and get offstage. In metal history, it’s perhaps best known as the place

Steve Von Till of Neurosis on the interconnected world of East Bay extreme music

Neurosis was hatched in a live-work warehouse in Emeryville near Oakland, and came of age in the East Bay, playing some of their earliest shows at the all-ages 924 Gilman collective.

Vocalist/guitarist Steve Von Till shared a few memories of the East Bay. —Justin Norton What was it like growing up in the East Bay music scene?

We were all inspired by what was happening. Some of us came from a punk background, and some of us came from the metal world. There was so much cross-pollination going on that people take for granted now. Back then, it was different to combine the nihilism of punk and the guitar sounds of metal.

Did you ever feel overshadowed, at least early on, by the enormous presence of thrash?

It would be hard for us to say, because we were in our own little world. There’s a tradition in the Bay Area of having a deeper psychedelic underbelly happening. That was the case with metal or punk, just like it was back in the acid test days. There’s something in the water there; part of it is just environmental.

What role did Gilman Street play in the band’s development?

The Bay Area has always had a strong underground punk scene. There were legit clubs like Ruthie’s and the Mabuhay Gardens in San Francisco. But the warehouses and smaller spaces, the free-foralls, is where things took hold. Gilman made this phenomenon legitimate. Back then, the scene was less together than it is today. There wasn’t a place where you could see such a variety of shows until Gilman. It was a crazy mix. You would never know what was happening; you could have Neurosis playing with Green Day. Why did you move away from the Bay Area?

I can’t live in a city environment anymore.

I want to worry more about the four-legged than the two-legged.

Yet all of the special Neurosis shows are held in the East Bay or San Francisco.

You can’t shake where you come from. It’s an exciting place and it made us what we are today. Despite the extreme amounts of humanity, there’s still a cultural core that’s inspiring. I’d just prefer to visit.

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Neurosis came of age, beginning with Pain of Mind, and promptly lost most of their early fan base when they debuted the Souls at Zero material.

Other history: Jello Biafra once got his ass kicked at the club by attackers calling him a “sellout,” and a little band called Green Day played here before becoming Rolling Stone’s house band.

Historic venues are scattered throughout the city; all of them are now closed. Ruthie’s Inn, at 2618 San Pablo Ave., in Berkeley, is now the site of a Black Oak Books. It was home to the earliest East Bay thrash shows. The Keystone at 2119 University Ave., in Berkeley, the site of Slayer’s first Bay Area show with makeup, is an apartment building. The Devil has had to make space for yuppies in the Bay Area before; in San Francisco, Church of Satan Founder Anton LaVey’s famous “Black House” was razed to build pricey condos.

SHOVEL-HEADED BURGER MACHINES We reconvene on Telegraph Avenue near the University of California. We are close to the former site of the Barrington Hall, 2315 Dwight Way in Berkeley, a former student co-op at the University of California that hosted Black Flag, the Dead Kennedys and others, as well as “wine dinners” where guests were served punched spiked with hallucinogens. Primus, featuring onetime Possessed guitarist Larry LaLonde, wrote the song “Fizzle Fry” about the experience.

We meet up at Rasputin, 2403 Telegraph Ave., in Berkeley, one of the remaining physical record stores in the East Bay, along with Amoeba (down the street at 2455 Telegraph). In the past, locals convened at Tower Records, but that’s long gone. We scour the extensive metal section, and dB scores a limited edition red vinyl copy of

 Bonded by buds Gary Holt and wife Lisa join the fabulous disaster

Autopsy’s Mental Funeral. Decibel tries to convince Harald O. that there are records worth hearing released after Iron Maiden’s Killers. Oimoen flips through old records, repeatedly finding photos that he shot on the back or in the gatefold. I ask him if he’s ever been paid. “No, but it’s still really cool to see them,” he says.

We finish and run into our special lunch guests: Gary Holt of Exodus and his wife, Lisa.

We’re hungry, but, unlike many college towns, Telegraph lacks options. We end up at Pappy’s, one of the few places serving beer with lunch.

Everyone scores a burger and grabs a beer, and we sit out back. It’s an unusually warm fall afternoon. For Oimoen and Lew, it’s like catching up with old friends.

The conversation quickly enters interesting turf. There’s a consensus that Varg Vikernes wouldn’t have fared well in the Texas justice system. Holt and his wife talk about hilarious YouTube videos they’ve seen recently. Lew says later how interesting it is to see Holt and his wife together; he knew Lisa years earlier in the metal scene, and thanked her in his zine Whiplash.

Holt, who was preparing to leave for a tour with Slayer filling in for the still-recovering Jeff Hanneman, has lots of memories of Berkeley and the neighborhood. Holt would wander with Kirk Hammett to the People’s Park, 2556 Haste St., in Berkeley—a hub of the free speech movement— before they would start partying. “We used to get a six-pack and walk over there and get a hit of acid, and it was on,” Holt says, laughing.

METAL MILITIA The group finishes and convenes on Telegraph Avenue. Harald O. heads to work at a nearby comic book and graphic arts store. It’s an interesting moment. I didn’t grow up anywhere near the East Bay; I was in a somewhat rural town more than 3,000 miles away, imagining what it was like to live in California. And yet here I am, talking to someone who helped create part of the music I grew up with. On the surface, there appears to be little in common; a few kids probably wonder what Holt is doing talking to the pair of us. Lew and I look like we could be teaching undergraduates down the block. There’s a palpable connection nonetheless; this crazy, fucked up music binds us together.

Later, I ask Lew if that connection is what made the Bay Area scene so special. He agrees— with a caveat. “The East Bay has always been more blue-collar than other parts of the Bay Area, which has given it a rougher edge and reputation,” he says. “At the same time, I think that blue-collar ethic also fueled a stronger sense of local pride and bond. The East Bay shows were always more dangerous than shows in San Francisco because the clubs were in bad neighborhoods.

“However, even if you weren’t from the East Bay, you were accepted as one by the locals because you were in places like Ruthie’s Inn raging with them. Some of my oldest friends now were those East Bay locals who I met back then.

It was like being accepted into a tribe of kindred spirits.” A

98

installment No.____in a series exploring landmark albums in the badass pantheon of extreme metal

O

ur latest Hall of Fame induction is without a doubt one of the most tragic and bittersweet we’ve run.

By the time you read this, guitarist Mike Scaccia will have been gone for three months, but as we write in late December, it’s just days after he died from a heart attack after collapsing onstage during a performance for bandmate Bruce Corbitt’s 50th birthday, December 22. The interviews for Rigor Mortis’ induction into the Decibel HOF were conducted nearly a year ago, so we feel fortunate that we were able to talk to Scaccia about the amazing record that launched his career before his passing. What follows is our original manuscript submitted in March 2012.

story by adem tepedelen

Stiff Competition

S

the making of Rigor Mortis’ Rigor Mortis

ometimes the circumstances surrounding an album are just as important to its status as a Hall of Fame inductee as the music itself. As you’ll read in the pages that follow, this is definitely one of those instances. Not to diminish the band’s musical talent, but Rigor Mortis—originally started by high school friends Mike Scaccia (guitar), Casey Orr (bass) and Harden Harrison (drums) in 1983—found themselves on the receiving end of some fateful circumstances (both good and bad) that not only had a dramatic effect on the arc of the band’s career, but helped make their teeth-jarring debut the kvlt thrash classic it remains today.

Certainly the addition of vocalist Bruce Corbitt in 1986 was a watermark event. Corbitt only appeared on one Rigor Mortis album—he was sacked not long after the release of the debut—and, not coincidentally, that’s the album we are celebrating. But there are other pivotal moments along the way—the support of a local promoter, Capitol’s odd choice for a producer, the band’s eventual dismissal from the label—that played major roles in the album’s curious mythology. And did we mention that two members of the band—Corbitt and Harrison—were stabbed in a brutal backstage brawl while they were in the midst of negotiations with Capitol?

Rigor Mortis were not only flying the flag for a faster, gorier and more brutal form of metal; they were living and breathing it.

This is, however, first and foremost about the music, and for a thrash metal band to arise and distinguish itself from an era that most agree was not the height of the genre is impressive.

By 1988, most of the acknowledged thrash classics had been recorded by Slayer, Metallica, Exodus and Testament. Megadeth were working up to theirs, but there were more uninspired, second-gen copycats than truly great bands. Rigor Mortis were that exception. Perhaps due to their Texas origins, they emerged with a fresh take on a tired style. Rigor Mortis sounds like no other album from that era— from the songwriting and playing to the actual dBHoF98 production. It’s violent, raw and punishing from the first sludgy notes of the opening instrumental “Welcome to Your Funeral” to the closing pummel Rigor Mortis of “Slow Death.” This is an album more disturbing capitol, october 17, 1988 and vicious than most indie records of the day, and Deathly second-wave it was released on the same label as the Beatles. thrash Here’s how it all happened. [4]

Rigor Mortis

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No. 98 rigor mortis rigor mortis  Get an afterlife

(l-r) Corbitt, Scaccia, Orr, Harrison

Starting with the obvious question, how in the hell did a band like Rigor Mortis end up on Capitol?

Mike Scaccia: It’s pretty crazy, isn’t it? From what I remember, there was a show at the Longhorn Ballroom, Megadeth was playing. Me and my singer, Bruce, decided Hey, man, we need to be on that show. So, we went down there to meet the guy that was promoting it, and his name was Jeff Liles. We gave him our demo and he freaked out on it and put us on the bill immediately.

That [show] was the first introduction to Capitol, because Megadeth was on Capitol.

Casey Orr: Jeff liked the band a lot and he knew a lot of people in the business. He sort of helped us try to hook up with some people, and he sent our demo tape around, that sort of thing. He was friends with Rachel Matthews, who was at Capitol. We had talked to Geffen and sent demo tapes to everybody, and had some interest. It really wasn’t until Rachel got a hold of it—she really liked the tape—and I guess she turned it on to the vice president of Capitol at the time. He really liked it and they came down to Dallas—we did a showcase for them and they loved it.

Bruce Corbitt: It was a shock to us as well. We had had a lot of interest from other labels at that time. [Rachel Matthews] was a new A&R rep [at Capitol], and she was scouting to sign her first band. I think she wanted to sign Exodus, but I think they were already signed to another label, an independent label, at the time, so she couldn’t get them. After she had scouted bands for so many months, we were like the next band she was interested in. I think she looked at it like so many [metal] bands start out on independent labels, and then the major labels would get the bands that were doing well later. I guess she looked at it like she was going to avoid that step.

[Capitol] kind of let us go. We were hard-drinkin’, crazy motherfuckers who just did our thing, and I guess that sort of had an appeal to them.

Casey O rr Harden Harrison: People in Dallas were prob-

ably really surprised, but none more than us. We didn’t expect anyone as big as Capitol Records to [put out] our first album. Not only were we the heaviest band around, but there just wasn’t a lot of other bands that record companies were looking at in Dallas at the time.

How big were you in Dallas at the time?

Scaccia: We were playing all the time. We were probably playing Dallas three times a month at that time, and in front of really big crowds. We would open up for anybody coming through, whether it was bands like Megadeth or Suicidal Tendencies, D.R.I., anybody.

Harrison: We were playing regular size clubs.

Nothing very large. We played fairly often and we were known. We were in the paper a lot for our shows that sometimes took a turn for the worse, with people fighting and things like that.

Things like that made the news more than the actual music.

Corbitt: We did our first demo and started geta p r i l 2 0 13 : 5 2 : d e c i b e l

ting out there doing shows everywhere. That Jeff Liles guy did a lot for us. He brought us into a local scene called Deep Ellum, which is a district out in downtown Dallas. At the time, that area was getting most of the attention musically around here. That was a big thing for Rigor Mortis that kind of separated us from the other metal bands; we got accepted to the Deep Ellum scene, which meant we got press weekly in the local Dallas newspapers and the Dallas Observer.

They started doing an awards show back then— the Dallas Observer Music Awards—and Rigor Mortis won the first three over Pantera.

Orr: It was sort of a self-contained scene here in Dallas-Fort Worth. There wasn’t a whole lot of gettin’ out of here and touring the country.

National bands would come through here on occasion, but we were kind of self-contained. You put out a demo tape, sold it at your shows and that was about it. There really wasn’t a whole lot of bands that thought we were gonna get signed.

We just hooked up with the right guy at the right time and the next thing you know, we’re signing on the dotted line.

Did you have a sense of what Capitol’s expectations were when they signed a band like Rigor Mortis?

Harrison: Capitol already had Iron Maiden on

their label and they were doing very well, so they probably figured, “Well, if music that heavy can do really well, if we go a little bit heavier, it should do fairly good, too.” Especially since the guys are from Texas and all that. I guess they just thought that perhaps a little heavier music would be marketable because they already had a band or two that was fairly heavy, so they decided to step it up a heavy notch.

Corbitt: At the time, that stuff was getting big, with Slayer and all those bands. In a way, I think Capitol was trying to sign a band to fill that category for the label. It’s still a shock to this day that we pulled it off. Especially with the reputation that we had.

Orr: I think maybe they thought, you know, that we were gonna kind of be a Slayer, or Metallica, or something like that. There really wasn’t a whole lot else. All these [thrash] bands were just a couple years old. It seemed like we listened to them when they first came out, and by the time we were recording, there really wasn’t a whole lot of stuff out there. They didn’t really tell us, “We want you to be this” or “We want you to be that.” They kind of let us go. We were really wild.

We were hard-drinkin’, crazy motherfuckers who just did our thing, and I guess that sort of had an appeal to them. I guess they just thought that we had so much steam—as crazy as we were—that

No. 98 rigor mortis rigor mortis things were just gonna take their course. But we didn’t know anything.

We didn’t know what to expect at all. I don’t know if they did either.

What do you remember about recording your debut?

Orr: It was this place called Dallas Sound Lab.

It had this million-dollar SSL board, editing rooms, ping-pong tables and basketball hoops—a nice high-dollar studio. We had the whole thing blocked out for the month or so we were in there, and we just took over, pretty much like we always did anywhere. We were doing crazy shit on this million-dollar board that we shouldn’t have. Getting drunk and wasted and having our friends over and having a great time. We worked there, we partied there, we stayed there constantly the whole time.

Scaccia: We had the studio from 7 p.m. to 7 a.m. and Stevie Ray Vaughan had it from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m., so I would run into him quite frequently walking down the hallways. That was pretty cool. We rented out the whole entire complex, so we had it to ourselves. That was right around when Nintendo came out, so we had a big-screen TV set up watching horror movies, playing Nintendo, with all the beer and barbecue you could want. We were smoking tons of weed and doing tons of speed and tons of coke. We were writing our names with it on the mixing console.

It was classic shit. It was just a big, fun party for us. I know we should have probably taken it a little more seriously, but you can’t take yourself too seriously.

Harrison: I remember thinking the studio was gigantic—which it is—and really nice and incredible. It was unlike any other place I’d been before, because the only recording I’d done before had been in someone’s home studio. So, we were impressed by all that and all the equipment and the professional level of it. I just remember being in there long, long hours. Even though the drums went down first before everything else, I just hung out there the rest of the time to check it out and be amazed at the whole process. It was also a learning experience, because none of us were very studio-experienced back then.

Corbitt: I still had five stab wounds in my back from getting stabbed at a gig about two and a half months earlier, and stab wounds they don’t stitch up, because they have to heal from the inside out. So, I still had stab wounds healing in my back, and I’d had a punctured lung. I was trying to be a tough guy. I didn’t want anyone to think I was a pussy, so I was always, “I’m fine, I’m ready to do the album.” But in hindsight, I wish we would have pushed it back two months.

I wasn’t 100 percent, but I sure wasn’t letting anyone else know it. I didn’t want to hold up the album or delay it or anything. It was quite an experience for us all.

 Blotter rot

A history of Rigor Mortisrelated violence

I still had stab wounds healing in my back. I didn’t want anyone to think I was a pussy, so I was always, “I’m fine, I’m ready to do the album.” But in hindsight, I wish we would have pushed it back two months.

B ruce C o r b it t How did you end up with Dave “Rave” Ogilvie— whose experience at that point was in industrial music—as your producer?

Orr: That was something that Rachel brought to

us. We were green as grass. We didn’t know what the fuck, how it all worked. We just thought, “We’re signed to Capitol, we’re outta here, fuck all y’all.” [Laughs] The label was like, “Why don’t you work with this guy [Dave Ogilvie], it’ll be like a really cool kind of crossover-hybrid thing.”

And we were just like, “Sure, all right. Write the check. Let’s go.”

Scaccia: There were all these stupid ideas thrown at us constantly. I think when we got signed, he was already going to be our producer. [Capitol] had already made up their minds. So, it was their choice. At the time, he was Al Jourgensen’s sound man, so that’s how I met Al. But Dave was a really cool guy. He was awesome to work with, and [the engineer] Kerry Crafton, as well. Both great guys, both brilliant at what they do. But we didn’t know shit from anything. We didn’t even know what a producer was. You’ve gotta remember, I was 20 years old when I got signed.

Twenty-year-olds don’t know anything; they’re idiots. All we cared about was getting wasted, and chicks. When they said, “This guy’s going to produce you,” we were like, “OK, cool.”

Harrison: We had never met the guy before.

We knew a little bit of his work, but not much. a p r i l 2 0 13 : 5 4 : d e c i b e l

He came about because he was friends with Rachel Matthews. She suggested using him and we were… I guess whatever she said, we did.

[Laughs] Corbitt: At the time, when you’re a band that finally found your queen that believes in you and is going to make your dreams come true, you’re going to respect her opinion and suggestions. So, when she said she thought that he would be a great producer, we were open to the idea as far as meeting him. We met him and hit it off, and so we just agreed to do it with [him].

What did he ultimately bring to the proceedings as a producer?

Orr: [With us] being completely green and

oblivious to how it all works, he did come in very professionally, but very cool and very oneof-the-boys. We got along great, we had a good time together, we were partying in the studio together. He kind of gave us at least the professionalism of suggesting we try different things, without being super pushy. We were really arrogant bastards, and if you tried to push one of us too hard, it was just gonna backfire. So, he knew how to handle that, too. When somebody started getting really frustrated, he’d back off and then he’d come back at it a little bit later.

Which worked, because we were young and stupid, and he would piss us off too much, we

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No. 98 rigor mortis rigor mortis

Did Rigor Mortis Make Ministry?

We were smoking tons of weed and doing tons of speed and tons of coke. We were writing our names with it on the mixing console. It was classic shit.

M ike S cac c ia would just get shitty. He was good with that. He was very patient with us. He kind of brought a little bit of that industrial sense to try to structure it and keep it linear in a way, like with the drums and stuff.

Scaccia: Honestly, I think Dave was kind of like where we were, [inexperienced]. He wasn’t into metal. He knew that it was cool and he liked it when he heard it, but he couldn’t tell you who was who. And here comes Capitol Records throwing money in his lap. He took on a little more than he knew what to do with.

Harrison: Perhaps he would hear things in the recording that he thought could be done better.

There was obviously the take-after-take part of it, where he would say, “No, it’s not good enough, do it again.” The mix of it, I suppose he had his own idea. He had come from a little bit different background. I would have probably preferred more of a raw mix. But he was trying to throw his flair in there. I’m not sure he brought a whole lot to the table. We basically just went in there and did what we do. He didn’t influence our arrangements or anything like that. That was all us.

Corbitt: He came two weeks early for pre-production and got to know our material. He had some suggestions for some of our songs. Like the beginning of “Vampire” where the bass comes in before the guitars kick in. Once we were there [in the studio], he was just there to let us bring our ideas to life. And I know Dave had some frustrations with the studio and the board as well.

He also felt like it was coming out too digital and clean, so I think he tried to do more stuff with effects and reverb and make up for it. I think Dave did his best , but maybe he wasn’t the right producer for Rigor Mortis, and he was in the wrong studio for an album like this.

Why start the album with an instrumental? What was the thinking behind that?

Orr: When [the band] started out, it was just

me, Mike and Harden. From ’83 to some time in ’86, we were basically just a three-piece band, and mostly all just instrumental stuff. A lot of those songs we just liked as instrumentals, and we didn’t intend to put vocals to them at all. So, when we did the record, it just made sense to us to start it out with an instrumental, because that’s how the band started out. The band was always at its core me, Mike and Harden.

Scaccia: Because it was titled “Welcome to Your Funeral.” The title kind of spoke for itself. It just made sense to start with that. We had been opening shows like that for quite a few years.

Harrison: We were more of an instrumental band before we got a singer and put words to some of this music. It seemed natural that we would put an instrumental first on the record as sort of an opener.

Corbitt: It was just like the introduction to say, “Here’s what Rigor Mortis music sounds like.”

Sometimes we started out our shows like that, too, with an instrumental, and then I would a p r i l 2 0 13 : 5 6 : d e c i b e l

Though we tried and tried to get the lowdown regarding the Rigor Mortis-Ministry connection from Al Jourgensen himself, it was apparently not meant to happen. His management simply gave us access to a video FAQ where Jourgensen talks admiringly— but rather generically—about how much he likes Rigor Mortis. The members of Rigor Mortis themselves— two of whom, Scaccia and Orr, were in Ministry at the time—gave us their version of how a little thrash band from Texas had a momentous effect not only on Ministry, but modern industrial music in general. —Adem Tepedelen

Orr: This is a story

that Al’s told me forever. Dave Ogilvie, who he knew, sent him a tape—like in the middle of the recording process—of what we had so far, and Al freaked out. Al was in the studio recording what was later to become Land of Rape and Honey—this is the story he told me—and he heard [Rigor Mortis] and Mike’s guitar playing, and he scrapped what he was working on, rewrote everything and it ended up being Land of Rape and Honey.

Scaccia: You know what

Rigor Mortis did for [Al Jourgensen]? It got him playing guitar again. That’s what created The Land of Rape and Honey and The Mind Is a Terrible Thing to Taste—our demo. I, of course, played on the [Ministry] records after that. But he’s a really huge fan.

Orr: Through Dave Ogilvie, we hooked up with Ministry, and Mike ended up playing in Ministry. Now I’m playing in Ministry.

Scaccia: Ministry doesn’t get the recognition it deserves, when Trent Reznor’s out there stealing it all. There are so many more people out there who know about Nine Inch Nails, but if there was no Ministry, there would have never been Nine Inch Nails.

No. 98 rigor mortis rigor mortis come on. There are a lot of things you have to decide when it comes to sequencing an album, and we wanted an instrumental on it and the title—“Welcome to Your Funeral”—what better way to introduce everyone to Rigor Mortis.

Whose idea was it to not do rhythm guitar tracks under the guitar solos?

Scaccia: It might have been mine. [Laughs] Like

I told you before, we were a live band. So, we really wanted to capture a live thing with this record. Nobody fought me over it. It was just a stupid idea out of my head at the time. That was really the concept that I had in my head. I wanted it to sound like we did live. I wanted us to have that feeling. I wanted people to go, Wow, man, they sound just like they do live. That was kind of the retarded idea behind that.

Harrison: I’m sure that was Mike’s idea, and we probably agreed with him that we didn’t want it to sound so empty live compared to the record.

We wanted to reproduce the live sound, I guess.

Lyrically, the themes were pretty brutal for a major label album. What was your inspiration at the time?

Orr: That was 100 percent horror movie-junkie

freakout. We would rehearse for seven or eight hours, then go watch movies for five or six hours. None of us worked at the time. We were just young bums. We rehearsed, we smoked pot, we drank and we watched horror movies. Pretty much every single song on that record is directly tied to a horror movie or a Clive Barker book or something along those lines.

Harrison: The lyrical content was more horrorbased instead of rebellion or writing a lot about the devil. We weren’t necessarily about that, more about gore and horror. It came mostly from books, movies and just our own pure imagination, too. I wrote most of the words.

Corbitt: The good thing was that the four of us all had similar hobbies and tastes and interests.

And obviously we all loved horror movies and gore books and stuff like that. It was kind of a natural subject that we liked to write about, something that we thought was cool that we were into. Naturally, for the music we were putting it out, it fit better than trying to sing about chicks and other stuff like that.

Why was the album mixed in L.A., and was the band involved in that?

Corbitt: [Dave] thought it was best if he took it to California to a studio that he had worked on with several other bands and try to mix it there.

Mike was the only one in the band that got to go for the final mixes.

Harrison: We were there on some of it, doing the basic stuff [in Dallas]. But mainly just to make sure that the parts were all there and you could

hear everything. It was taken to L.A. to finish up the mix. So, we weren’t there the whole time, no, but we were so young and inexperienced, I’m not sure we could have done anything about it if we were there to convey to the producer what we wanted to hear.

Orr: Before Dave took off and went to L.A. to do the final mix and mastering, we did some mixing in Dallas. We all were there for preliminary mixing, telling him what we wanted. [Years later] we actually took the CD to somebody to make dupes one time and the [engineer] put it up in Pro Tools, looked at it and said, “This hasn’t been mastered.” [I’m talking about] the actual CD; this engineer claimed that it was never really mastered at all. That kind of accounts for my listening to it over the years and thinking, Damn, that’s real thin there, that’s a little wonky there.

But like I said, we didn’t know shit. When it came out, we thought it was the greatest thing in the world.

Your feelings on the final production? Any changes you would have made?

Corbitt: There are a lot of little things. Like the drums. The first time we recorded a demo, we did it in 10 hours and recorded seven songs.

Then we go in to the [Sound Lab] for three weeks and I remember Harden got a new drum set the very first day that we got to the studio.

That’s great that he had a new drum set, but any drummer wants to break his drums in, get used to playing them, instead of like, “Hey, unbox your drums and set them up, you’re about to start recording.” Something happened on “Slow Death” when one of the mics wasn’t working or turned on or something. It became a deal where I heard quite often, “Oh, we’ll go back and fix that later.” And other things with my vocals, or something—a line I didn’t like—and it was, “We’ll be able to fix that later,” or “We’ll be able to fix that in the mix.” So, you think you’ve got plenty of time. But so many things added up like that where you’re getting told you get to go back and fix it, and then all of a sudden you don’t get to go back and fix. And guess what? It’s still there 20-something years later. We notice it more than the fans do, but we notice.

Orr: I say now I kind of wish that maybe it was a different production as far as it sounding like a metal album, but [Dave] definitely brought some structure to the band that we didn’t really have.

We had never had anybody telling us, “Do that slower, now do it faster. Try it this way. Try it that way.”

Scaccia: I wish it would have been done the way we originally wanted to, because we are a live band. We weren’t a studio band then, and we really aren’t now. We’re a live band. If we would have had the right producer, that would have made a big difference for me today. But I really don’t have any regrets about how things turned out, because it was kind of a lesson a p r i l 2 0 13 : 5 8 : d e c i b e l

learned, in a way.

Harrison: Well, the drum mix I don’t think is

loud enough at all. The mix overall I would love to redo if we could find the masters or something. Just make it sound more beefy. It sounds thin to me. I wouldn’t necessarily change the performances or the arrangements, but the mix I would change.

Favorite songs or performances?

Orr: I like “Shroud of Gloom,” I like “Die

in Pain,” the one I sing. They’re all pretty cool. Really there isn’t a song on that record that I don’t like. I like “Vampire” a lot. I like “Demons.” “Bodily Dismemberment” is cool.

Pretty much all the songs on there I like. I mean, considering how long ago we did that stuff, they still kind of hold up for what they are. They’re not intellectually rich or anything, but they’re not supposed to be. It’s like the pulp fiction of metal, or a quick Stephen King or Clive Barker short story in song version.

Scaccia: I love “Wizard of Gore,” I love “Die in Pain.” Those are probably my two favorites. I love “Vampire,” that’s fun to play. Those are my favorites off that record.

Harrison: Everyone seems to like “Re-Animator,” because it’s like the sing-along song that we have to play live every time. I like “Vampire,” I thought that one was pretty cool. It had kind of a different arrangement. It was a little less basic of a song. I like “Wizard of Gore,” too. Those are the two that stand out for me as far as performances and musical arrangements and sounding different enough to just not be verse-chorusverse-chorus-lead-verse-chorus.

Corbitt: I think my best vocal performance ended up being “Vampire.” The song that I’m most known for to this day, with Rigor Mortis or any band, is “Bodily Dismemberment.” It’s still my favorite song to sing live, just to be the psycho maniac who chops up his girlfriend.

Over the years I’ve had so many fans come up to me and tell me, “Hey, man, when I broke up with my chick, I told her, ‘You’re fucking history, bitch!’” [Laughs] I’m partial, of course, to “Re-Animator”—that was the first song I got to write lyrics for when I joined Rigor Mortis.

Around here in DFW, when the demo came out and that was the first song, that became one of our most popular songs. I think I did pretty good on “Wizard of Gore,” too.

Why did Bruce leave the band shortly after your debut came out?

Orr: I’ll admit that a lot of that was me. Me and

Bruce had some personal clashes that weren’t resolving, and it sort of lapsed into some musical differences that weren’t getting resolved. I just kind of got to a point where I was really frustrated working with Bruce, and I’m sure he was [frustrated] working with me. I finally just said, “It’s either me or him, because I’m not enjoying

No. 98 rigor mortis rigor mortis  Bunch of stiffs

this anymore.”

And those guys were like, “Well then he’s gotta go.” It wasn’t a particularly happy time, and maybe it wasn’t the right decision, but it was at the time.

Scaccia: We started all kind of growing apart after we got off tour. We had kind of bad management who didn’t want us on the road. They wanted us to go back in the studio, so they could get some money. They took us off the road and we went in to write for a new record, and there were a lot of mixed feelings with Bruce. There was a lot of weird things happening where we just kind of felt like we had grown apart from each other. I wanted another guitar player really bad, and I wanted one that can sing. Bruce and Casey were at each other’s throats over god knows what, so we decided to let [Bruce] go.

Harrison: With Bruce, it was some internal conflict with him. But mainly I guess we thought we wanted a singer that could play guitar as well. Because we thought maybe we wanted a fuller sound.

Corbitt: I got fired after the Death Angel tour.

We were actually writing for the second album.

We thought it was going to be a full-length at the time. We were recording the demo for Freaks, and things just kind of started getting weird. I noticed the guys weren’t treating me the same and I felt something going on. But they’d never tell me. Now we can just call it musical and personal differences. I guess, for some reason, those guys weren’t happy with me as their vocalist, and at the same time, I think they wanted to add a rhythm guitarist without adding another member to the band. So, they wanted to find a singer who could play rhythm at the same time.

Your debut turned out to be your only official Capitol Records release. What happened?

Orr: It kind of got all fucked up. We put out the

record and then Rachel Matthews left Capitol after the record came out. Whoever got her job, because he didn’t sign us and didn’t know anything about us and wasn’t into that kind of music, [our debut] pretty much got shelved after it came out.

Harrison: It’s pretty much been my experience that if your A&R person leaves the label, you have no representation, and [the label] pretty much doesn’t give a shit about you anymore, unless you’re obviously making a lot of dough.

Scaccia: The second record [Freaks] was paid for by Capitol, but they didn’t release it. It was released by Metal Blade. Then we were let go after that record.

DFW’s finest thrashers, in a rare moment of stillness

I don’t want to go on and on about how we’ve been ignored and we deserve much more. I guess the fact of the matter is that if we had decided to stay together … we would have gotten more recognition.

Ha r d e n Ha rriso n Do you think the fact that this album basically went out of print so quickly, that has played a part in its mystique and kvlt appeal?

Orr: I’m sure. Several years ago, I noticed people

bootlegging it. At the time I was working at a CD manufacturing place, so I thought, Why am I not bootlegging it? We actually tried to get a hold of Capitol. We tried in vain for two years, with lawyers and shit to try to get a hold of somebody at Capitol to talk about whether there are any copies in existence, can we re-release it, can we license it? We want to put this record back out. a p r i l 2 0 13 : 6 0 : d e c i b e l

And we couldn’t get anything out of them. We couldn’t get so much as a meeting on the phone to discuss it. So we just said fuck it and sort of remastered it—we ran it through Pro Tools to clean it up a little bit—and put out a few of those just to have it available.

Harrison: There’s that possibility for sure. I don’t want to go on and on about how we’ve been ignored and we deserve much more. I guess the fact of the matter is that if we had decided to stay together and not go off in different directions for awhile and just kept on with Rigor Mortis, as the band became more recognized, people would have noticed our earlier recordings and tried to pick them up, we would have gotten more recognition.

Scaccia: Obviously, if it had stayed in print and the label had been behind it, it would have made a big difference in how it is perceived today. But what can we do about that? We’re trying to make a new record this year and kind of make up for some lost times in a way before we end it for good.

You’ve all gone on to other bands, but how do you feel about the first album you ever recorded?

Orr: It put us all on the map. It also spring-

boarded pretty much everything that happened since. It hooked us up with Ministry.

Corbitt: That album is the reason I am who I am to this day. It means the world to me, because every thing I’ve done since, I’ve always been known as “Bruce, the singer from Rigor Mortis.”

The majority of Rigor Mortis fans love that album, and since I was on it, they associate Rigor Mortis with me. There are so many bands that got way bigger than Rigor Mortis that told me what that first album meant to them. Jeff Liles always told me back then that we were kind of a band ahead of our time and that people would rediscover Rigor Mortis, and we would get more appreciated over time.

Scaccia: I kind of have mixed feelings on the record. I don’t regret doing the record, but there are some things that I wish I could change.

Overall, I guess I’m happy with it. It’s opened doors for all of us and it influenced a whole mess of bands. It is kind of like a little cult classic record. It is what it is and I’m happy with that.

Harrison: I feel proud of it. I think it was inspirational to a lot of people and a lot of other bands that came along. I meet all kinds of people all the time that say, “Man, that first record really freaked me out. I’d never heard anything like that at the time.” A

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degrift

story by chris dick • photos by clark van

Detroit

a p r i l 2 0 13 : 6 4 : de ci b e l

isn’t the kind of place where dreams come true. The sun hasn’t beamed down on Motor City and its hardscrabble denizens for a long time. That the population is down 61 percent since 1950 is merely one indicator of a sad truth: The town that birthed Motown, held uneasy host to the MC5, and still puts Hungarian diarrhea on its Coney dogs isn’t going to experience a Pittsburghesque upswing in the foreseeable future. Sure, the automotive industry that built (and then decimated) Michigan’s manufacturing middle class is thankfully pumping again, but the Lions will never win a Super Bowl and the United Artists Theatre Building—among other iconic structures—will likely crumble to dust in due time.

Yet, there’s always hope. If not for former skunk mayor Kwame Kilpatrick, then for fans of Clutch, who have new album Earth Rocker coming out on their own Weathermaker label.

That Clutch inexplicably call Detroit—and its sister city Flint—homely homes away from their own in Germantown, MD is particularly odd, but it makes perfect sense for legions of Michigan hard rockers who cut their teeth (and lost a few) to “A Shogun Named Marcus” and “Binge and Purge” throughout the summer of 1993.

“I have a soft spot for that part of the country,” confirms drummer Jean-Paul Gaster. “When I was a kid, I used to live there. Actually, I was from Taylor, which is ‘down river,’ as they say.

There’s a lot of heart in Detroit. Those are some proud people. I still have family there. I know when they leave Detroit, they miss it. But it’s tough living in Michigan. They’ve been through a lot over the last 40 years, so if you still live there, you have a special relationship with it.”

But the reverse is also true. Ever since Clutch first set foot in the Mitten in the early ’90s, disquietingly friendly Michiganders have treated the band like rivet gun royalty. They’ve gone to shows and bought records. So much so, in fact, that Detroit sits just under New York and Boston for the number of [2004's] Blast Tyrant records sold, according to recent Nielsen SoundScan data.

Consider population ratios between Detroit and second place Boston, and the glow of Michigan “glove love” gets markedly brighter. “It can be confused for a hometown gig,” singer Neil Fallon beams of Hockeytown. “It was the first major U.S. city outside of our home base that happened for us. The support has been non-stop ever since.”

A testament to the Clutch-Michigan relationship: the Live in Flint 2-CD set released by River Road in 2004. Really, it’s not lost on anyone that, when Clutch comes to town, the minimum wage gas station jobs or Kroger’s stockroom gigs are rearview mirror material. “We’ve played Flint so many times,” Gaster recalls. “I’m in touch with the Zink brothers, who run the Machine Shop [venue]. I’m so impressed with them, that they’ve managed to keep it open.

When we play, there’s always an audience. It’s a fun place to hang out. It’s a good spot.”

What does all this Michigan gab mean in the context of new long-player Earth Rocker? Apart from the obvious—live shows and music sales— the history of the state is embedded in Nick Lakiotes’ cover art. At first glance, the Native-

American motif paired with the ’80s computer grid background makes Earth Rocker look like a shelved Journey album, but stare at it closer and some neat things emerge. This is especially true if you’re into Art Deco architecture and oldschool automotive bling.

“We started by looking old hood ornaments for Pontiacs from the ’40s,” says Fallon. “A lot of them have a very Art Deco/Native American/ warrior faces [look] on them. The image started out as something for the interior, but we finally said, ‘Let’s just make that the damn cover!’

Speaking to Nick, we both agreed that a lot of recent album covers are trying to out-scare each other. We wanted more ‘Hey, what’s that? Let me step in closer and have a look.’ J-P wanted the album cover to look tough and fast. Hopefully, that comes across to some degree.”

“We wanted something tough,” concurs Gaster. “Something badass. A ’70s heavy metal record. We were thinking of Judas Priest’s Screaming for Vengeance. Neil has a great deal [to do] with what happens in Clutch creatively.

He’s a much better artist than he gives himself credit for. A lot of the stuff in Earth Rocker was Neil’s sketches. Part of the inspiration came from [the Penobscot Building] in downtown Detroit. Detroit has amazing architecture, which is a shame [since] a lot of it is barely standing.

There’s a lot of great imagery in Detroit.”

As for the futuristic elements in the Lakiotes piece, well, they didn’t come from Robocop.

Though imagery from Paul Verhoeven’s masterpiece would’ve dovetailed nicely into Clutch’s not-so-secret reverence for Rock City, it was Lakiotes’ fascination with artists like Hipgnosis and Esteban Maroto. “I’ve always been a fan of old Heavy Metal and Omni magazine cover art,” Fallon says. “I’m the sci-fi dork of the band, so I’m definitely the guy that pushed for it. We wanted an iconic face of some sort, whether human or animal or something in-between on

the cover. That’s what we ended up with. So, the stars kind of aligned for us in a way. Also, I must say the cover art for Technical Ecstasy and Never Say Die! [was] also in our minds.”

ORIGIN of the SPECIES Like 99.9 percent of bands that aren’t assembled

by Hollywood moguls or allowed to spend $750 on a haircut, Clutch’s beginnings were humble.

In the early 90's they were local guys with simple aspirations. Weaned on go-go music—a funky type of dance hall music specific to the Washington metropolitan area—and punk/ hardcore, Gaster, guitarist Tim Sult, bassist Dan Maines and the newly hired Fallon only wanted to be onstage and put out music. Previously known as Glut Trip, the quartet quickly realized their moniker needed an overhaul. Normally, moniker changes involve great debates, whiteboarding, or maybe even outside counsel. Not Clutch. They were masters of winging it. “We were fans of one-word band names,” laughs Gaster. “Fugazi, Prong, Helmet. So, we wanted something like that. When we got asked to play our very first show, it was a toss-up between Clutch and Belt. We literally just picked Clutch two minutes before our first show.”

“We were in a basement and we had a show booked,” Fallon remembers. “I had just replaced the singer in Glut Trip. And we wanted a new name. There were two band names we loved. One was Prong. The other was Swiz, the band from DC. We loved monosyllabic names. We also liked Steel Pole Bath Tub. [Laughs] I don’t know who said ‘Clutch,’ but I remember thinking, ‘It’ll do for now. We’ll change it after the show.’ We still haven’t gotten around to that on the to-do list.”

The newly minted Clutch set out, clearly unaware then that they’d be talking to us some 23 years later, and releasing their 10th studio album to a fervently devoted, very Deadheadesque fan base on a band-run label. (Much like their hero Ian MacKaye and his Dischord label, actually, but more on the distinctions between Weathermaker and Dischord later.) The Pitchfork 7-inch was released to concertgoers in 1991. It’s unknown how many copies of Pitchfork landed in the hands of early Clutch devotees, but originals in mint condition fetch pretty pennies at auctions. The following year, U.K.-based indie Earache Records awarded Clutch a larger profile by releasing the Passive Restraints EP. Even with an international indie, the band still unknown quantity in most parts, but word was starting to spread. Kids with tape-trading tentacles were in the know, so it was only a matter of time before major label bigwigs had their pointy teeth gums deep into Clutch’s virgin flesh.

By ’92, Nirvana was raping pop icons on sales charts—Nevermind was reportedly moving

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When we started the band, there were only two goals: We wanted to make great shows and we wanted to make great records. Our favorite bands did that: Fugazi, Bad Brains, the Obsessed.

400,000 copies a week

by Christmas ’91—and grunge was fully underway as a commercial replacement for hair metal, thrash metal and other forms of music American moms deemed morally bankrupt and tonally bereft. But that didn’t stop Pantera from blowing minds on Vulgar Display of Power, Iron Maiden’s Fear of the Dark, Ministry’s Psalm 69 and Danzig’s Danzig III: How the Gods Kill. Heavy music was alive and well, it seemed. When Atlantic Records imprint EastWest Records America nabbed Clutch, they probably figured it more of an experiment than goldmine. Throw Clutch and debut full-length Transnational Speedway League: Anthems, Anecdotes & Undeniable Truths against the wall and see if they stick.

Produced by Steven Haigler (Pixies, Quicksand), the leadoff cut, “A Shogun Named Marcus,” instantly found an audience. Groovier than shag carpet, with heft and goofball lyrics to match—god only knows what a “beebopalloobopawopshamboo” is—it quickly set Clutch apart at college radio and at alt-music clubs

Jean-Paul Gaster nationwide. DJs couldn’t stop spinning it. Most notable, however, were the vocals of Fallon, whose commanding presence, gruff voice and beat-’em-up lyrics instantly established him as a premier frontman.

“I’m by no means the perfect pitch guy, with soaring melodies,” concedes Fallon. “Over the years, I’ve been attracted to guys like Tom Waits, older blues guys, or Leonard Cohen. If you have a character in your voice and you can sound emphatic enough and you have confidence, people are going to listen to what you’re saying.

They won’t say, ‘Oh, he sounds really flat or sharp.’ I’m still trying to learn how to sing melodies. For years, I thought that was a no-no.

Coming from a hardcore mentality, you’re not supposed to sing. You’re supposed to scream.”

And scream he did. From dorm rooms and car

Thanks to Flying Dog Brewery in Frederick, MD for graciously hosting, wardrobing and lubricating the band for our photoshoot on January 18. Learn more at flyingdogales.com.

stereos to stages in major cities and Podunk towns, Clutch were on the radar of both hesher and frat boy. Though Fallon would refine his tough-guy vocal delivery on every album after Transnational Speedway League, he is still considered an imposing singer.

What Clutch aren’t about is mindless aggression, and it often seems the energy displayed by all members is confused for what might be a Slayer or pre-Load Metallica trait. Sure, Clutch have provoked on record, and they appear to challenge the audience when they’re onstage, but it’s not what you think. It isn’t about the anger of youth or the frustration of the disenfranchised.

“I like to think of it as positive aggression,” Fallon proposes. “If you’re chained to anger and negativity, it would be very exhausting. Speaking for myself, I’m entirely too lazy for that. [Laughs] I think it’s easier to want to make people dance.

There’s nothing wrong with saying that, even though we’re in a hard rock band. People want to bob their heads or dance or text their friends the set list, but for the most part, people are there to get down. I like the aggression of the MC5 or the Stooges. It’s aggressive, but it’s not threatening.

Maybe it’s more passion than aggression.” [4]

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Gaster’s on the same page, but offers a different angle: “There’s a difference between playing aggressive and playing with great finesse or great energy. To always rely on the emotion of aggression gets boring for me. I think people confuse us for being aggressive when we’re playing hard or fast, but it’s not about being aggressive. It’s more about playing your instrument with great authority and really making a sound.

To always draw from anger is boring and, to me, it’s played out. We did that the first couple years of being a band. If you’re still mad about whatever it is you’re mad about 20 years later, it’s time to step back and really be honest with yourself. What is it that you’re doing?”

FANS for DEAR LIFE Whether it’s in Tokyo and London or Calgary and Kalamazoo, Clutch’s ceaseless touring, inventive live shows—they change shit up a lot—and all-around good nature has earned them an ardent following. Actually, these folks are batshit crazy for Clutch. When Clutch are onstage, the miles between shows don’t matter—they travel. If they can’t, they know the Clutch Brotherhood will be there to capture and share it. In fact, browse the group’s official message board under the “Trade Up Them Goodies” header, and the sheer amount of live show trading is unreal. Though it’s largely over file-sharing networks, the detail and dedication is admirable. Fans looking at and discussing set list gaps, updating ID3 tags for older shows, poring over recording techniques and listing hardware—it’s all like Grateful Dead or Phish fans with hairier balls and better taste in music.

“Clutch is the only true-to-form, straight-up, pure rock ‘n’ roll band around!” says Gary Susalis, who is Senior Manager of Programming/PD of All Things Rock for Music Choice. “Since the mid’90s, if Clutch is playing in New Jersey or New York City, I am there. As a matter of fact, Clutch is a holiday tradition for my friends and I. Every year [except 2012 because of Hurricane Sandy] around NYE, Clutch rocks the Starland Ballroom in Sayreville, New Jersey, and we are always there. Nothing says Happy Holidays [more] than Clutch sandwiched between Christmas and New Year’s. Clutch is timeless, and as long as they continue to make music, you know I will be there.”

Steve Truglio, who goes by the handle fake111 on Clutch’s message board, has also developed a near-fatal attraction: “After hearing their self-titled and Elephant Riders records, they represented a style of hard rock with a sip of blues that I just hadn’t heard from anyone at the time, probably since the Black Sabbath of my youth.

So, I followed them around for about a year, giving them free photos until they hired me to do several records/press shots. They really are

Sometimes [running our own label is] a bit of a headscratcher. Like, maybe I want album art that looks like a pop-up book. But then you have to be the Weathermaker guy and say, “You know what, son? It doesn’t work that way.”

Neil Fallon about the most honest and hardworking band I’ve ever known. And considering they are one of my all-time favorite bands, it’s pretty special to have my work shared by them. I’ve been from my former home in New Jersey to Massachusetts, to Pittsburgh, to North Carolina to shoot them for various magazines, as well—a lot of miles and a lot of smiles working with the best live rock band of this generation. And then there’s the added bonus of the friends I’ve made along the way.

Most Clutch fans are as real as the band.”

Like a real social network devoted to Clutch, the very same fans that go to and record Fallon, Sult, Maines and Gaster performances also eat up anything rare or unusual that involves their favorite hard rock band. Since Transnational Speedway League, the volume of radio singles, press promos, limited edition pieces, posters and other promotional items has no end. Certainly, in the last two years, the number of physical copies for press and radio has been reduced due to digital delivery systems, but the value hasn’t diminished, and the demand for non-retail oddities hasn’t disappeared. A quick check on eBay and there’s a two-song Rock Fury promo going for $35, a signed “Burning Beard” 7-inch at $125, or a Songs of Much Gravity DJ remix single for $75.

Clutch fans eat that stuff for breakfast.

“As far as collections,” Susalis bashfully brags, “I have set lists, drumsticks, picks, show-specific T-shirts and whatnot, but my greatest piece of Clutch memorabilia is from 1995, when I interviewed them at WSOU. They recorded a personalized station ID for my radio show on a cart.”

Clutch green-light it all, too. You don’t see clampdowns or legal warnings by the band to the fans for openly trading live music with one another. If there were bootlegs of studio recordings—and there are, mostly from Russia— that’d be a different story, but live shows, well, that’s smart marketing. For band that’s released five live albums in the last decade, you’d think they’d rather have fans pay for the goods, but that’s not how it works. Let one live show recording sell concert tickets to the next.

“We are very aware of the dedication from our fan base,” Gaster salutes. “We know it exists, and I think it provides more inspiration for us.

We don’t take advantage of it. We could put out a crap record, go to Detroit and sell tickets. But I don’t want to do that. I want a better record

than last time. I want a better show than last time. A lot of our fans have seen us many times over the years, and I know they expect the very best from us. We try to do the very best. We don’t take that for granted.”

“We started as a word-of-mouth band,” adds Fallon. “Prior to the Internet being what it is today, people were talking amongst themselves about us. Live, it takes a much longer time to build a fan base, but they become more passionate because they’re emotionally invested in the band. They feel it’s their band. It’s a fortunate spot to be in. It takes a lot of patience. One of the worst things that can happen to a band is to have a smash hit in the first couple of years.

It usually kills the band. They get used to something that can’t be repeated. Lord knows, that never happened for this band. Not to sound like an ingrate—I’m glad things have worked out the way they have.”

Even at the highest echelon of American culture—television—Clutch have diehard fans.

Consider Big Brother 13 reality show star Adam Poch—a.k.a. the Heavy Metal Teddy Bear. Starring in a show that reaches an estimated 800,000 people per episode, he still manages to extol heavy metal’s virtues. And that includes Clutch.

“I have been seeing Clutch for the last 20 years, just about every tour since I was on college radio,” he says. “I have gone to at least 60 shows. I am going to Nashville for my bachelor party because Clutch is playing there. I bring people to Clutch shows that have never seen them before—they usually end up coming again and again and again! When I got out of the Big Brother house [summer, 2011], I got mad at my girlfriend because she did not go to the Clutch on a Boat show in July. Her excuse was, ‘I was going to be on TV that night.’ I told her, ‘That’s why we have a DVR.’”

MUSICIANS’ FRIENDS & SIDE PROJECT PROLIFERATION It’s not just fan devotion, either. From the mid-’90s to now, whenever Clutch are joined by another band or bands, all parties usually walk away with a profound level of respect. To say the group is a musicians’ band is one thing—they’re all fantastic players—but it’s another when the only thing Clutch want to do is jam and have fun doing it. [4]

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Sometimes it’s fluid. Sometimes there’s arguments. But there’s no reason to limit yourself by staying inside the bubble.”

And the members of Clutch aren’t afraid to mix first-line business with their side projects—like the Company Band or Lionize—which makes the musical ebb/flow that much more interesting. “To be honest, we lump them together whenever we can,” Gaster explains.

“When Strange Cousins [From the West] came out, I had just finished making a record with Wino, his Punctuated Equilibrium record. We had Wino on tour with us, so I played two sets, one with him and one with Clutch. I think Lionize was also on that tour. Sometimes we’ll do that. We’ll put the Bakerton Group and Clutch together. We’ll bring Lionize out.”

CLUTCHONOMICS

“I don’t think we set out to be a musicians’ band,” says Gaster. “We’ve spent a tremendous amount of time on the road. That was a good learning experience for us. We learned to play our instruments. We learned to play shows.

We learned to improvise. Those skills that we learned early on—which was like 20 years ago—continue to be worked on and developed.

It’s a natural evolution for a musician, I think.”

Others, like Prong’s Tommy Victor, aren’t so shy: “I know most people direct their attention to Neil’s amazing lyrics and stories, as well as his dominating stage presence. He’s always thought ‘out of the box,’ with approaches to his vocal style different from anyone else of their era. But that agenda applies to all the other guys. As a guitar player myself, I must take note of Tim Sult’s originality, spartanism and just plain smarts. Taking Band of Gypsys into an alternative groove style was brilliant. Technically, I’m very impressed with his wah pedal work.

I believe he’s one of the best around. Who can take anything away from Jean-Paul, one of the most respected drummers around? He crushes those drums. Dan’s Billy Cox thump and consistency, also brilliant. Just a music lover’s band. If you don’t love them, you’re a poser.”

“Chemistry,” begins Scott “Wino” Weinrich.

“OK, these guys have been together since high school, and with no lineup changes, a multitude of records, constant touring. I would say that history alone makes them special, but as musicians I think they have a telepathic almost–synchronicity, a smooth-flowing vibe, the riffs are creative, tone’s great, and—the capper—Neil’s

onstage and lyrical delivery. He’s sort of like a cyber-priest leading a small but powerful musical militia. I am honored to have shared personal, stage and studio [space] with them!”

But here’s the thing: Whenever Clutch tour with a band, a side project splinters.

Take Clutch’s stint on the 2005 Sounds of the Underground tour. To beat boredom and funk up the backstage area, Gaster and then-Opeth keyboardist Per Wiberg set up a jam shop. From those impromptu groove sessions, the King Hobo project came to light. “It’s a mentality,” says Gaster. “You carry it with you in whatever musical situation you’re in. You try to be the best player you can be. I try to do as many side projects as I can. Playing with other guys gives you an opportunity to look at music in a different way. It’s a challenging thing. I was just in California, jamming with my buddy Wino.

That was a lot of fun. He and I haven’t played together in like three years. Man, what a monster player that guy is. Right away, he’s a challenge. He’ll throw something at you that you’re not expecting at all. It forces you to think.

Hopefully, you come away from those challenges a better player.”

Fallon concurs: “Playing with other musicians is a great learning experience. It’s strange.

Amazing how accustomed you get hearing the voices of your bandmates, the same guys you’ve been hearing for 20 years. It feels almost bizarro-land to play with other guys. Sometimes, you fall into old habits and you do something redundant, but I self-edit to a fault. It’s a conversation musicians have when making music.

It’s no secret Clutch had a very open legal battle with former (and now rightfully defunct) label, DRT Records. The fight was, as it always seems to be, about money. It’s the lifeblood of any band professional or amateur. It’s the stuff that buys guitar strings, puts food on the table, pays the rent and helps continue the cycle. Management at DRT saw it differently, of course, but in the end the courts ruled in Clutch’s favor, although Fallon admits the court costs almost equaled the money DRT owed the band. And with DRT’s coffers empty, the label was forced to release the masters to Blast Tyrant (2004), Robot Hive/Exodus (2005) and From Beale Street to Oblivion (2007) in lieu of payment.

“They owed us a lot of money,” sighs Fallon.

“We went to court. There were some dark days.

We had already started Weathermaker, as the contract had been fulfilled. We had to be patient about it. We didn’t get that revenge satisfaction.

In hindsight, it was the right decision to take the masters. Money comes and goes, but these things are forever.”

Gaster was pleased that Clutch fought the good fight and didn’t bend over backwards to the label. “We’re going to go after the other records, too. Give us another 10 years. [Laughs] Maybe we’ll have the self-titled, Elephant Riders and Transnational.”

Fallon’s less optimistic about Clutch’s early records reverting back to the band. Suiting up against DRT is one thing, but going to court with Sony Music and its subsidiaries is an altogether different monster. “With Columbia? Well, that’s a different story. We don’t know the state of our relationships with Columbia and Sony. I would doubt people working at the label today would have a clue Clutch was part of the roster. One day we’ll cross that bridge.”

With Weathermaker firing up—both guys admit it was designed more as Clutch product [4]

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vehicle than proper label—after contractual obligations were fulfilled on Beale Street, suddenly the business venture that involved all four members of Clutch not only had new music to release, but catalog. Blast Tyrant, Robot Hive/ Exodus and From Beale Street to Oblivion have been reissued on Weathermaker with a bonus discs and updated art/liners, and Fallon and Gaster couldn’t be happier.

“We’re in a better position now than we ever have been in the history of the band,” says Fallon. “We have the arguments amongst ourselves now. If something’s wrong, we know who to blame and we can fix it. Sometimes it’s a bit of a head-scratcher, though. Like, maybe I want album art that looks like a pop-up book. But then you have to be the Weathermaker guy and say, ‘You know what, son? It doesn’t work that way.’ It’s been a learning process. Starting and running any business is a learning process.”

“As a band member, it’s huge,” Gaster adds.

“We spent the first 18 years of the band fighting with record labels. I can remember our very first 7-inch on a tiny independent hardcore label. We weren’t happy with the job they were doing. That continued on through EastWest and then to Atlantic. Not having the drama of a record label hanging over your shoulder makes everything better. Not just financially, but creatively. If you spend most of your day fighting with your boss, chances are you’re probably not going to do your best work.”

As for label economics, it’s very true that records don’t sell what they used to. Whatever the reasons, Earth Rocker isn’t expected to do the numbers of, say, Blast Tyrant (around 101,658) or the self-titled album (around 258,728). The silver lining for Clutch, however, is that the middle man’s out of the picture. Which means more of every dollar goes back into the pockets of the band members.

“Now you have the ability to sell records directly to your fans,” Fallon enthuses. “You don’t have to sell as many records. The mindset of ’76 is still pervasive. Labels want a multialbum deal, and if you don’t go gold, then you’ve failed. I don’t know who’s still repeating this mantra. When I hear bands say they’ve signed a multi-album deal, I’m like, ‘Now?! Today?!’”

“We’re fortunate to be able to make a living off playing music,” admits Gaster. “I’m not a rich man, but the fact that I get to play drums in this great rock band and do shows, well, that makes me wealthy beyond money any day.

When we started the band, there were only two goals: We wanted to make great shows and we wanted to make great records. We wanted to do that because our favorite bands did that: Fugazi, Bad Brains, the Obsessed. They weren’t popular bands. They didn’t want to be on the radio. Over the years, we’ve been fortunate enough to build

[Clutch are] a music lover’s band. If you don’t love them, you’re a poser.

Tommy Victor, prong

a fan base, and now we have a record label.

Again, I’m not rich, but I have the best job in the world.”

Fallon, however, is quick to point out that it isn’t what Earth Rocker moves at retail that keeps the lights on. That income stream is touring and merchandising—what he calls buttering Clutch’s bread. What really chafes his ass is when bands complain about having to hit the road: “It ticks me off when bands bemoan having to tour to make a living. You know, welcome to rest of the world having to go to work.

If you compare what you’re doing every day to most people, you should thank your lucky stars.

Performing music is a joy and not a chore. We all have families now, and those are big responsibilities. We have to think about security now rather than some golden ring that doesn’t exist.”

ROCK the NIGHT Earth Rocker celebrates Clutch’s 10-album mark.

It also is a departure from the records that came before. Not that they’re doing Barry Manilow covers or anything; more like longtime fans will hear a more succinct songwriting team. Take the title track, with its blatant, infectious groove.

Or the straightforward rocking of “Unto the Breach.” Or the bottom-heavy boogie of “Cyborg Bette.” This is Clutch nearly jam-less.

“We usually react to our previous record when writing our next record,” Fallon says. “Strange Cousins was a mid-tempo record. We played those mid-tempo songs for four years. You get comfortable doing that, which is boring. The easiest way for us to change that was to kick up the BPM. When we write songs, we clock the tempo— what we call the ‘Clutch tempo.’ It’s anywhere between 90 and 100 BPM, and it’s very comfortable and natural for us to play there. So, it’s a bit more challenging to play faster. We’re by no means a fast band, but changing the tempo was something we had to do for this album.”

“When we did Strange Cousins, we tried to strip things down,” nods Gaster. “With Earth Rocker, we honed that concept, but at the same time we wanted to say what we wanted to say and get out.”

And that’s entirely it. Earth Rocker hits hard and walks away the winner. More observant acolytes might hear similarities, at least in presentation, to Blast Tyrant or the self-titled.

But Earth Rocker isn’t a throwback record to something in Clutch’s closet. “To be honest,

we were stripped-down and efficient,” recalls Gaster of Clutch’s mid-career approach. “But we weren’t as good of players. We play much better now than we used to, and the concept of being stripped-down is similar to what we used to do, but better–played.”

Fallon is of a different mindset. “It’s a little bit of a back and forth, tacking between things and ideas. Maybe we’d go one direction and the music’s slower with blues elements. That was great, but eventually you’ll get close to the rocks and you’ll have to tack in the other direction.

For a band that has existed for years and years, I can’t see any other way.”

That doesn’t mean, however, that Earth Rocker isn’t a product of the past. Well, in some form it is, because when Clutch toured with Motörhead and Thin Lizzy, they realized the roots of hard rock or heavy metal stem farther back than most want to admit. And, according to Fallon, it made writing songs easier: “It was a really easy record for us to write. We were thinking about this record right about the time we toured with Motörhead, and shortly thereafter Thin Lizzy. We were also thinking a lot about their contemporaries, that first generation of hard rock. Their relationship with what is called ‘oldies,’ whether it’s Chuck Berry or Jerry Lee Lewis, is strong. There’s a real connection between them that I don’t think we realized until recently. That may not be obvious in the product of Earth Rocker, but that was the back story that was spinning around our heads while writing this record. It made it easier to write.”

“The writing process is the same as it has been for many, many years now,” Gaster counters. “We just get together and play, jamming on ideas. Sometimes the ideas are more developed than others. Sometimes they’re just parts of a complete song. It’s something that happens from the ground up. So, the actual process of coming up with concepts, the riffs, happens naturally.

The difference with Earth Rocker is that we set out to make a very powerful, concise record, something that was really focused. Prior to Earth Rocker, we never had a band meeting where we said, ‘We’re going to make a blues record or we’re going to make a punk record.’ We just played what came out. With this one, we started focusing on songs, stuff that had good energy from the beginning to end. We wanted the record to be short and to the point.”

As for where Earth Rocker fits in Clutch’s discography? “It’s a double rainbow, brother,” laughs Gaster heartily. “I’m sure we’ll do something completely different next time around.

That’s just the nature of how we do things. It isn’t really a conscious effort to shake things up.

It just happens naturally.” A

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Reviews by the numbers

1

of our top 20 most anticipated albums of 2013, reviewed

3

of our top 20 most anticipated albums of 2013, featured

25

other albums that may be great, mediocre or misguided, but they beat the shit out of that Macklemore “Thrift Shop” video

All the noise that fits reviews

Second Eye Landslide Anciients come so very close to climbing

W

blood mountain, but they haven't peaked yet

e music critics sometimes (usually for lack of girlfriend/ anything better to do) find ourselves asking things like “at what point does ‘ripping off another band’ end and genre begin?” Like, somewhere along the line, people stopped being called “Chuck Berry clones” and started to be known as “rock ‘n’ roll,” right? The point I’m getting at here (yes, I do have one) is that, while Anciients Anciients really sound a hell of a lot like Mastodon and pre-Yellow & Heart of Oak Green Baroness, it’s hard to dismiss them as mere copycats. It’s more season of mist that they’re working in the same psychedelic/progressive/sludge soup that those bands cooked up originally—which, a good decade after Remission, has basically codified into a genre of its own. Call it post-sludge, swamp metal or “we don’t believe in pigeonholing ourselves into a genre, man,” but it is a Thing and Anciients’ debut is the next evolution of said Thing. The question is if that’s a good Thing.

Illustration by Mark Rudolph [markrudolph.com]

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newnoise

record reviews

Debutante Ba:

Listening to this while absorbed in a book 20,000 feet above the continental United States—snatches of stardust and cosmic avalanches ebbing in and out of my attention over the roar of the engines, through the weird, hollow passageway of the noise-canceling gatekeeper over my ears—Heart of Oak (out April 16) sounded pretty darn good. Anciients excel in subconscious musical interplay, accomplishing something most modern prog rock bands would kill to achieve—they compose musical passages that are both evocative and interesting.

These songs are long enough to give the band plenty of room to trace a variety of contrail patterns, but not so long that they become tiresome. There’s loads of stuff to discover within, as well, pleasant surprises that either jump out at you immediately (like the Metroid breakdown in “For Lisa”) or slowly reveal themselves over the course of many listens (like the bison trying to get up, but then getting trampled by the stampede halfway through “Giants”).

Thing is, the Mastoness elements feel as vestigial as that second “i” in their name. They’ve hitched themselves to the wrong Thing. When you sit down and listen to it intently, focused solely on the music’s onrushing tide, the moments of beauty and playfulness get dashed on the rocks of “hey, we’ve heard this before on Blood Mountain or Red Album.” The valley of primordial ooze acts as grounding to the parts that soar—and while that’s important to create contrast, more often than not it feels like shackles.

It’s frustrating. The swamp metal trappings are what keep Anciients from being just another heavy psych or prog metal band, but also what currently hold them back from being truly great.

They need to shed the shadow of their ancestors before they can outshine them. —Jeff Treppel

Amenra

7

Mass V

Me t a l l i c Me d i a m e ta l l i c - m e d i a . b l o g s p o t. c o m

It’s sure hard to pigeonhole Metallic Media as catering to a narrow audience.

From humor-filled to humorless, the label’s recent output runs a fair gamut of extreme approaches. After a decade of running a mailorder distro out of his basement, Tim Buchmiller rolled out three select releases under the new Metallic Media banner in 2011, and there are no plans to turn back. Nine more unholy emanations hit unwary postal Lucifer D. Larynx carriers in 2012; we rocked most hateand the Satanic fully to these four. —Daniel Lake Grind Dogs of Death Absolute Defilement Covering your CD with a grotesquely muscled Satan who forces cruci-fellatio on a severed and rotting head is a pretty great way to get me to listen to your shit. It’s sampleinfected death grind, of course—20 songs in 30 minutes, all with titles like “Razor Wire Catheter” and “Fuck Me Straight to Hell.”

Damn, it’s over already. Play again.

Astarot Raw Sensation of Nostalgia and Nihilistic Instrumental one-man Mexican atmospheric black metal. Cover image of fog-obscured trees. Do they have fog-obscured trees in Mexico? I’m sure most of the Decibel masthead thinks such lo-fi melancholia is indefensibly indulgent and mopey, but I wouldn’t mind listening to this on some sunny May afternoon when my kids are laughing in the tube slide and I can smell the near-done burgers and perfectly dilled potato salad, just to remind me that I hate all life on Earth—and probably in other realms, too.

Rexor Nox Obscura Sortis For a dose of Trve Tvscan Black Metal, look no further than this Florentine quintet’s meaty EP. Perfect blend of eerie ambience and spikes-up-your-ass blast punishment.

These three originals and one Bathory cover comprise the ideal soundtrack for hailing the northern tannins.

Moloch Stiller Schrei des Winters (2002 – 2012) Aaaand we’re back to bleak atmospheres and grainy fucking trees. The guitars here are louder and more chainsaworiented than Astarot’s, making Moloch a more painful listen; you decide if that’s positive or not. Sounds a lot like the subunderground depressive gristle an Englishteaching friend used to foist on me years ago. This 10-year retrospective is a win for everyone who loves to lose.

Neurot

Prayin’ n’ flayin’

You seldom hear a metal fan say, “What I really love are the vocals.” Riffs, sure. Drumming, absolutely. Leads, perhaps. But vocals? Not so much.

For bands mining the post-Neurosis vein, singing is seldom the feature that distinguishes your crew. And yet that’s anything but the case when it comes to Belgium’s Amenra.

What sets this five-piece apart from their apocalyptic peers is singer Colin H. Van Eeckhout, who has one of those recognize-it-whenever-you-hear-it voices. Van Eeckhout tends to work (and by “work” I mean “scream”) in a higher pitch than most vocalists in the alt-doom arena. He pierces through the low-pitched murk 74 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

with a voice that’s just this side of exasperated, lending the trancey, minor-key backdrop a tension it might not otherwise have. Which is not to say that Amenra’s latest, the Billy Andersonhelmed Mass V, is an all-out scream-fest. At the beginning of “Nowena | 9.10,” a song featuring Neurosis’ Scott Kelly, Van Eeckhout sings in a calm clean voice that is well-matched to the crystal-clear guitars. Gathering-storm melody aside, this passage sounds like ’90s indie rock.

That is, until the inevitable avalanche of midtempo sludge comes pummeling down. Kelly’s blessing-like vocal cameo will no doubt attract attention to this release, but the song is all Van Eeckhout’s. Over the brilliant machine-like

riffage, he really proves the worth of his voicecrack approach. At his best, Van Eeckhout is very much an acquired taste. But what extreme metal vocalist isn’t? —Brent Burton

Ancient VVisdom 8 Deathlike

Prosthetic

VVicked good

We can probably all agree that one of the prominent characteristics of metal/extreme music is the overblown, distorted nature of it. A guitar plugged into an amp that’s turned to a reason-

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able level (i.e., not overdriven) just doesn’t sound “heavy.” Thus, the concept of “acoustic” metal (or grunge or punk or whatever) has always been a strange one, as far as we’re concerned. Austin-based Ancient VVisdom’s songs aren’t strictly acoustic—one guitarist definitely plays a well-distorted electric—but let’s just say they are “acoustic-driven.”

Their second album, an occult-fixated 12-song release, is mostly “heavy” in its lyrical content, though there is a certain darkness and melancholy to the music as well. Beyond that, it’s not particularly extreme. Our first impression was that it sounded a lot like Alice in Chains’ acoustic EPs, Sap and Jar of Flies. In the best possible way. AIC did a damn fine job making acoustic = sorta heavy, and AVV follow suit with dour music set against some against some big, memorable choruses. Percussion is mostly sparse, but a drum (or drums) of some description adds to the atmosphere when necessary. There are big, crunching moments, like on “Never Live Again” and “Here Is the Grave,” but those are the exception. Most of this music has more in common with Scott Kelly’s solo excursions than, say, Neurosis.

Ancient VVisdom are able to pull this off so successfully because, quite frankly, they write great songs. More specifically, they write really evocative and emotional melodies. Their voices aren’t always pitch-perfect, but the effort is definitely there. Of the extreme bands daring to expose themselves this bare, AVV stand up to scrutiny the best. Without the cloak of distortion and volume, they still have plenty to offer. —Adem Tepedelen

Black SunRoof

6

4 Black Suns and a Sinister Rainbow Handmade Birds

It will take orbiting all four suns to get through the thing

There was a time when the almighty Skullflower was Matthew Bower’s “rock band,” and Total (and anything else) was Bower’s “noise thing.”

That ship sailed sometime around the first Clinton administration. Bower retired the Total moniker in favor of Sunroof!, a drone/noise/ electronic “ptbptb” outfit exploring softer colors compared to Skullflower’s increasingly obtuse, ever-freer noise rock. Then Skullflower and Sunroof! became increasingly indistinguishable from one another (no letters, please; I know you can tell them apart, tubby—go back to stalking goths on OKC), especially when Bower went all-in on black metal textures for Skullflower and essentially did the same for Sunroof!, which is now called Black Sunroof and is a duo with Samantha Davies, his partner in Voltigeurs. (There will be a 7 6 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

quiz later—no iPods, no notes.)

This slab is a doozy—83 minutes of layered buzz, roar and feedback laid on thick as paste.

But with all Bower projects, you stare into the void long enough and patterns start to emerge.

Riffs rise up out of the muck (“Perfumed Pressure I” and “II”) or Bower dials down the overload to explore subtler drone and quieter shudder (“Chandelier Heat”), then builds it up again for maximum midrange ache (“Seal of Perversion” and, yes, those sound like bagpipes down in there). “R U Loathsome” is the most sonically varied track, with horror movie synth layers colored by digital drum flickers and the chirping of robot birds.

Is this the place to start with Bower, Inc.?

Well, it certainly is a handy guide to the hideous goop in his head circa now. And a little goes an extremely long way. But once you submit to his way with noise, you just might want it all.

—Joe Gross

Dark Nova

6

Dark Nova

M e ta l B r e e d

Goddammit, Europe, you can do better than this

There was a time, in high school and college, when I eagerly devoured whatever power metal I could get my nerdy little hands on. I still have a fondness for the form, but man, that infatuation hit a wall real hard, real fast. It’s sort of hard to get excited about a genre where stasis is an expectation. So much talent going towards so little originality! Europe keeps cranking these bands out, though, so I guess long hair and frilly shirts are granted with citizenship in the Union.

Dark Nova hail (and kill) from Greece, and they’ve been around on-and-off since 1991. They manage a full-length every six years or so, making this the fourth. Their power is of the progressive variety, meaning they sound like Symphony X, and to their credit, they do a really good job of sounding like Symphony X. Yes, they were around before Symphony X, smartass, but their early stuff was more along the neoclassical lines of a Rising Force or Crimson Glory. So, to their credit, they’ve evolved, but they’ve evolved to sound like Symphony X. And that’s cool—if that’s where their muse takes them, and a record label is willing to put it out, then more power (nyuk nyuk) to them. The execution is fine. There’s just absolutely nothing that stands out one way or another, no reason to pick this up unless you’re REALLY into keyboard flourishes and overwrought vocals—and you’ve already memorized the Symphony X discography.

—Jeff Treppel

Denouncement Pyre

8

Almighty Arcanum Hells Headbangers

Light’s bane, still storming

Jon Nödtveidt’s definitely in hell, right? (Hell isn’t real, but play along.) Made Satanic metal, killed a guy, killed himself— nobody ever really made me go to church, and I still know that’s enough for an eternity of burning torment. And even after death, the template he left behind still inspires a particular blend of black/death blasphemy and melody. Seductive melody. Y’know, for Satan. More souls or whatever. I honestly tend to like the bands that use it more than I actually like Dissection. Exhibit 666: Denouncement Pyre. They are so sick that the demons in charge of whipping Nödtveidt’s soul probably have to stop themselves from telling him, “Dude, you have to hear this band,” and remember that they’re supposed to be punishing him.

Denouncement Pyre’s ace-up-the-sleeve, oddly enough, comes from classic hardcore. They get a fast, majestic gallop going, then suddenly drop everything to half-speed and pull out all the anthem stops: monster gang vocals at the end of “He Who Conquers All,” octave chords on “The Redeemer,” and just plain big riffing on pretty much everything else, especially “Circle of Serpents.” There’s a tribute to Craft’s Fuck the Universe called “The Deceiver,” and I’d like to highlight the fact that the album intro, mid-LP interlude, and acoustic intro to the final song are well-done and genuinely creepy. This is seriously an important part of a truly evil metal record, and too many bands half-ass it. Like, I would listen to a D-Pyre guy’s dark ambient side project, and I never listen to those. In closing: cop Almighty Arcanum ASAP. Drink the night’s blood.

Fuck your soul. Cut your flesh and worship Satan. —Anthony Bartkewicz

Disperse

7

Living Mirrors Season of Mist

Why so Cynical?

Apparently Season of Mist need a trained Cynic disciple should Paul Masvidal and Sean Reinert get hit by a bus. I’ll feel like shit if that ever happens, but the point is: Poland’s Disperse are extraordinarily Cynic-esque. Interestingly, they don’t recall 1993’s landmark Focus as much as 2008 comeback Traced in Air. Strong references to Cynic outgrowths Portal and Aeon Spoke can also be heard.

With an opening that could be lifted from a forthcoming Cynic album, Living Mirrors begins

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with a floating, delicate air. Then it gets meatier (or less fluffy) and offers distinguishing characteristics, like forceful rhythmic trickery that aligns them with the whole “djent” thing. Riffs in “Unbroken Shiver” and “13 AUM” remind of another proggy Polish band, Egoist; rare moments that break into heavier, gnarlier territory. Vocals are exclusively chill: keyboardist Rafal Biernacki’s voice is warm and appealing to the point of seeming disarmingly polite. The press materials note Dream Theater as a reference point, and while they’re hardly a clone, there are numerous John Petrucci-style guitar sweeps and DT-ish riffs, as in “Profane the Ground.” Ultimately there’s a whole lotta Cynic goin’ on, minus the great songs. But hey, if there aren’t a ton of great songs here, there are some really great moments.

Not that extremity is the be-all-end-all, but there’s nothing extreme about Disperse, other than the extreme amount of hours these guys toiled learning Masvidal’s licks and Reinert’s tricks. Living Mirrors isn’t bad—the performance level is ridiculously high, and something like “Message From Atlantis” delivers the chills—it’s just not very original. How much value you put on originality and Cynic’s Traced in Air will determine your need level for this proggy Polish nugget. —Jeff Wagner

Fen

8

Dustwalker Code666

The dust never settles

Fen come out swinging on their third LP, Dustwalker.

Opener “Consequence” begins with a sequence of four chords, vicious and ragged like machete slashes, resolving into nasty bits of dissonance.

It’s violent, imperious and the hookiest passage they’ve ever recorded (you’ll be growling along with vocalist the Watcher during your next month’s worth of showers). Moments like it show up over and over again on Dustwalker. Not the same sound, exactly—the same confidence.

Fen have released good albums in the past. This is the first one that has balls.

The band’s palette is enormous, fearlessly indulging black metal, post-metal, pagan and shoegaze influences. Enslaved gallop through a Cocteau Twins haze on “Hands of Dust”; the straight-up gorgeous “Spectre” sounds like Slowdive jamming out a Fairport Convention cover.

Fen have always had big ears, but they’ve never combined sounds with such lucidity as they do here, or written songs with such distinct personalities. With its 4/4 rock backbeat and blazing main riff, “Wolf Sun” is as much song7 8 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

for-the-open-highway as song-for-the-depths-ofwinter. Dreamy, Alcest-y major abuts textured Agalloch minor. Fen fear neither mode nor mood—they embrace both chest-pounding and quiet contemplation.

Dustwalker arrives less than a year after Fen’s English countrymen Winterfylleth and Wodensthrone both released fine albums of black metal pastoralia. All three bands have combined torrential blasts and surging guitars with the cadences of acoustic folk music to evoke loss, melancholy, the majesty of our forgotten heathen past. But while their peers look backwards from the mountaintop, bemoaning our trampled traditions, Fen point toward the future. —Etan Rosenbloom

Gruesome Stuff Relish

7

Sempiternal Death Grind FDA Rekotz

Eternally in flames

Provoking the undead for nearly 15 years, longrunning Spanish gore practitioners Gruesome Stuff Relish return with this third full-length.

Spawned from the ashes of Repugnance, Team GSR discharge a wildly familiar brand of classic, blood-blistered deathgrind, fueled by an insatiable fixation on classic Italian exploitation flicks, cemeteries, the zombie apocalypse and good oldfashioned cannibalism.

On Sempiternal Death Grind, the band claws their way through a sonic time warp where everything reeks of open earth, rotting flesh and Carcass riffs. Raw and almost maddeningly catchy (“End Is Near,” “In Death We Breath”), the band masterfully merges all the prime tenets of classic Swedish death metal (Dismember, Carnage, et al) and the psychological impact of years of Argento and Fulci films into 10 raw, blast-laden tales of terror.

For nearly 40 minutes, GSR immerse listeners into a coffin-toned wall of necro-mangling riffwork, whammy bombs and chest-caving bass quakes. It’s all authenticated by the remarkably vomitous, razors ‘n’ glass gruntwork of vocalist Paolo Deodato, who clearly gargled chocolate milk before he got to the studio.

(You’ll applaud his exceptional phlegm heave mid-“Sex, Drugs and Grind”). Peppered with the occasional prerequisite giallo sound clip and haunted-housey keyboard moment, Sempiternal Death Grind is often deliberately comical (“S.O.S.,” “Scratching the Violet Velvet”) and a welcome reminder of why late ’80s/early ’90s death metal ruled so hard.

—Liz Ciavarella-Brenner

Intronaut

7

Habitual Levitations (Instilling Words With Tones) Century Media

Quit when you’re ahead

Habitual Levitations (Instilling Words With Tones).

Honestly, do you really need that stuff in the parentheses? The first part works perfectly fine.

But Intronaut have written an album that parallels this affectation pretty well.

This is prog-metal in its proggiest metal form. That means you’re getting songs with complicated, drawn-out structures and extreme fluctuations of genre. Now, when the band sticks with heavier, distorted polyrhythms, it is some pretty incredible stuff. Danny Walker’s drumming is above reproach, creative yet aggressive, and the riffs are like Escher paintings, endlessly looping and fascinating. But when the progressive elements take center stage, my attention wanes.

It’s not that jazz or psychedelics can’t be interesting or even essential additions, but too much of this falls into mindless, self-indulgent jamming that, instead of expanding the song, just comes off as fat and gristle, sometimes near unlistenable—but often just forgettable.

And it’s pretty hard to dismiss as coincidence the band being a recent support act for Tool. There are multiple instances where their influence has rubbed off; but whereas Maynard James Keenan’s voice is an integral part of Tool, Sacha Dunable’s laid-back, reverbed croon floats around the songs instead of providing the necessary power and charisma.

A band like Intronaut clearly spends an exorbitant amount of time constructing these songs and working on their individual parts to create a grand vision. But like the title, Habitual Levitations (Instilling Words With Tones) should have clutched onto the best ideas and let the rest fall away. —Shane Mehling

Iron Reagan

9

Worse Than Dead A389/Magic Bullett

But waaaay better than the Dead

If you have even the faintest recollection of Ronald Reagan when he was president, then this crossover is for you, old friends. Honestly, the members of Municipal Waste (vocalist Tony Foresta, guitarist LandPhil Hall) and Darkest Hour (drummer Ryan Parish, bassist Paul Burnette) couldn’t have picked a better cultural reference for their side project’s name than the focal point of all early ’80s hard-

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core anger. Before there was Shout at the Devil, the punks were railing against Reagan. He singlehandedly incited disaffected suburbanite teens to pick up instruments and play as fast as they could while yelling their tits off about how much they hated him.

So, wanna guess what Iron Reagan sound like? The Gipper’s second term in office, that’s what. That’d be circa 1984-1988, when punk found a willing (slam) dance partner in metal and started to get br00tal. More specifically, Worse Than Dead sounds like four dudes working out their no doubt decades-old D.R.I./Gang Green/Cro-Mags/Nuclear Assault fetishes. Not coincidentally, these mirror our own sweaty musical fantasies.

Because Foresta is fronting IR and the material is very stylistically similar to the Waste, it does beg the question: What’s the point? The answer is simple: There can never be too much awesome. And strictly speaking, the material may be in the same vein, but Hall definitely has a distinctly different guitar style than Ryan Waste—less NWOBHM, more Celtic Frost. And lyrically, man, Foresta rages like Bonzo (the ex-prez, not dB’s managing ed) just pissed in his Coke. Nothing gets the punk rock geezers riled up in 2013 like a fucking old-school, trickle-down theory Republican. —Adem Tepedelen

Keado Mores

6

The Secret Path of Life M e ta l B r e e d

Greek for “low-calorie heavy metal”?

If I could, in my allotted 250-word space, make one of those decisionmaking charts with the little lines going to the different boxes depending on how you answer, it would more easily help you decide whether Greece’s Keado Mores are the band for you.

Instead, I will have to simplify it and utilize a series of simple questions, which will guide you.

If you answer “no” to any of them, please exit the review immediately and move on to the next one. For every “yes” answer, please proceed to the next question.

• Do you currently own, or have you ever owned any Night Ranger albums?

• Do you consider Ozzy’s best work to be “anything post-Zakk Wylde”?

• Did you basically stop buying new albums in 1989 (except Ozzy’s, natch)?

• Do you own any records released on Shrapnel?

• Are you European?

• Do you believe that paying taxes is for suckers, and that your country will just print more money or something clever like that to pay its bills?

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Made it this far, did you? Well, congratulations, my Greek friend—if you’re not already familiar with your fellow countrymen, Keado Mores, I would suggest that you give your Scream album a rest and go purchase this. It is so filled with the spirit of the ’80s that one might reasonably assume that nothing of any musical value happened in the past 28 years. It seems you, too, feel the same way. —Adem Tepedelen

KEN Mode

8

Entrench

S e a s o n o f M i st

If it ain’t broke…

I admit it, I was skeptical.

KEN (Kill Everyone Now) Mode won a prestigious Juno award last year, then booked their longest recording session ever with Matt Bayles, an engineer who has, in the past, helped heavier bands transition into a more rock-oriented sound (Mastodon, Isis). I assumed after almost 15 years of breaking their backs touring, the band would finally make a leap from erratic noise metal to something more viable.

And Entrench proved me dead fucking wrong.

There’s an impressive spectrum on this album, as the Dead Kennedys punk solo of “Why Don’t You Just Quit?” barely shares the DNA of the sludgy, gang-vocalized ending of “Your Heartwarming Story Makes Me Sick,” but nine of these 11 songs rupture from the speakers with comparable severity. The exceptions are a centerpiece and ending track, both longer, larger, more musical, focusing on hazier, layered soundscapes, but these give shape to the record without betraying the cold-blooded sound the band’s been purifying for so long.

Guitarist/vocalist Jesse Matthewson has never sounded more possessed, caterwauling while he lunges at his strings, mirroring drummer Shane Matthewson’s complex battering. And while the brothers have always found someone to play bass with that grating churn of feedback, Andrew LaCour is an especially proper fit, adding a breadth to the songs that hasn’t always existed.

On Entrench, KEN Mode have evolved, expanded and honed their sound. But they are still noisy goddamn metal, trying to kill everyone now just as much as they ever were. —Shane Mehling

Mysticum

8

In the Streams of Inferno Peaceville

Fire water with them

As the golden age of black metal was coming to an end, Norway spat forth a singular oddity that would later morph into

a legend. In 1996, after a handful of demos and a split 7-inch with Ulver, oddball trio Mysticum released this, their debut and to date sole album.

The band was already well-connected to the Norwegian elite—Mayhem sticksman Hellhammer was briefly a member, and they were originally signed to Euronymous’ Deathlike Silence label— but the influential nature of and reverence for In the Streams of Inferno has seen them ascend to black metal royalty.

Bleak, cold and eerily atmospheric, Streams is primitive black metal par excellence. Sulfurous, unforgiving and at times otherworldly, it invokes the majesty and might of Satyricon or Burzum at their best. 1996 was the year that so-called gothic black metal made its bid for the mainstream— think Cradle of Filth and their protégés Dimmu Borgir—but Mysticum’s pit of churning blackness was a throwback to darker days.

Although later recordings could more easily be classed as such, talk of this album as outright industrial BM always seemed a step too far. The music has a mechanistic drive and sharp, serrated edges, but it’s likely that their use of keys (hints of Beherit at times), samples and a drum machine—usually programmed to warp speed—invited the industrial tag more than anything else. This remastered edition comes complete with bonus tracks and a DVD of rare live footage from ’96. Blessed by a certain bargain basement charm, its simplicity is its strength, and In the Streams of Inferno remains a genre classic. —Greg Moffitt

Necrowretch

8

Putrid Death Sorcery Century Media

Raise both hands if you are French

Fascination with old-school death metal continues unabated on Necrowretch’s debut long-player, Putrid Death Sorcery.

But unlike most new jack acts longing for a whiff of Nihilist’s stale brown eye, the French duo draws not from ghosts of Stockholm’s subways, but from the untold depths of Strängnäs’ Lake Mälaren, where gods Merciless once reigned unchallenged in its murk.

If that sounds flowery, well, it is, but Necrowretch ain’t. From the earliest demos—aptly named Rising From Purulence and Necrollections—to Putrid Death Sorcery, the Valence-based boys covet the barbaric, the unbridled and the violent.

Musically, Necrowretch could be a described as a long distant cousin of an unfortunate sex act between Merciless and Blasphemy, but vocally, frontman Vlad’s subterranean croaks make Erik Danielsson sound like Kip Winger. Of course, conviction doesn’t a solid full-length make. That’d

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be like Martin Van Drunen fronting Blood. But when Vlad’s totally believable shrieks about goat heads and putrefying torments are paired with inspired attempts to recapture the deliciously moldy air of 1990, it works rather well.

Necrowretch won’t win awards for songcraft— there’s not a single candle held to, say, “Override of the Overture” or “If They Had Eyes” or “Death Evocation”—yet opener “Ripping Souls of Sinners,” “Defiler of Sacrality” and the witching hour pulchritude of the title track transform Putrid Death Sorcery from A-OK to rotten middle finger.

Century Media’s on a roll these days, and Necrowretch are another fine addition to the label. Certainly, the Germans had more to do with death metal than any of those “die-hard” indies that weren’t around when Resurrection Absurd—or Sin/Pecado for that matter—came out.

—Chris Dick

Nero Di Marte

6

Nero Di Marte Prosthetic

Inky black stains can’t obscure origins

Originally known as Murder Therapy, Bologna, Italy’s Nero Di Marte felt a moniker switcheroo was needed because their newer material was far more labyrinthine, and would be better represented by a far more labyrinthine name. Nero Di Marte is, apparently, the Italian name of a pigment, “an iron oxide that produces a deep, dark, intense black that, when in contact with other colors, can permanently coat or noticeably transform them.” And, surprisingly, not a terrible metalcore band from Benelux.

Murder Therapy? Didn’t know ’em. But what Nero Di Marte know is Gojira. They’ve very obviously and intensely studied The Way of All Flesh, with the chief difference being that they aren’t as methodically slow as the Frenchmen. There’s a frenetic franticness to how Marco Bolognini tastefully busies up the expansiveness with lightning-fast fills and cymbal splashes without bogging down the organic space—or hoping someone’s going to take pictures of the drummer.

His talents shine in “Convergence” and “Time Dissolves.” Guitarist/vocalist Sean Worrell also does some clean singing in the latter, and needs to be stopped from thinking he can do such things with impunity. And it would have been nice had they varied up the tempos more like they did on “Resilient.”

Nero Di Marte understand, much like their main influence, the value of making the impenetrable palatable; that is, creating novel-sounding music that nudges boundaries beyond studious technique. Their metallic assault is more than just rudiments and exercises that only musicians 8 2 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

with subscriptions to musician magazines can appreciate. The biggest issue, however, is that in striving to do something different, they’ve cherry-picked one of metal’s most popular-yetstill-untapped resources without adding their own homemade topping. —Kevin Stewart-Panko

Nervochaos

8

To the Death Greyhaze

Cuz first blood is for pussies

Full disclosure: I didn’t approach this album with high hopes. A title like To the Death would barely pique the imagination in 1983, much less in 2013. And Brazilian death metal (natch) bearing the image of a meched-out Castle Grayskull with the oh-so-popular symmetrical gun/tank/missile motif hardly screams “original thought.” I hadn’t listened to Nervochaos before, and the ESL portmanteau itself suggests (to me) tiresome, lukewarm thrash workouts amid lyrical confusion about whether it’s Christians or politicians they hate more. So, I was excited to find my own head nodding along to the very first track, which broke into full-on desk-drumming by track three. Nervochaos got some chops, and they’ll use ’em to chew up your expectations and force-feed you the cud.

Most immediately notable is that, while Nervochaos unapologetically traffic in death metal, there’s a satisfying variety offered throughout To the Death that sets the record a tier above all the albums I didn’t want to listen to this month.

Riff follows driving riff, time signatures clip off and switch up, and well-timed solos fill in some emotional depth without ever noodling into extravagance. The rhythm section lends unerring support, and occasionally shines through on its own merits. Two- to four-minute songs with definite breaks and a bounty of assorted ideas means that nothing has time to go stale. And unlike so many dull-eyed clobberings administered by disingenuous piss-peddlers, To the Death thrums with hunger and personality. You can just hear the boys giving these songs hell, and the songs, thankfully, give ’em hell right back.

—Daniel Lake

The Prophecy

8

Salvation Code666

I tried water polo, but my horse drowned

British mopers the Prophecy have been kicking about the Yorkshire countryside—Halifax, to be exact—for the better part of 14 years, and yet it’s likely that not a

single Decibel reader has heard of them. Maybe Greg Moffitt. But I doubt it.

Sometimes that’s for the better, actually.

Discovering something like Salvation is a rare occurrence in Internetland, and it’s even rarer when said album moves you like no piece of music should. Perhaps the Prophecy’s Salvation is a quantum leap from previous full-length Into the Light, but it isn’t. It’s just more real, the bucolic melancholy more demanding. From the opening title track to the 11-minute closing stunner “Redemption,” the Prophecy are so attuned to their slight misfortune, it quite literally drags you into it, whether for self-reflection, nostalgia or loss.

Musically, the Prophecy could be likened to mid-period Anathema, with veins of Saturnus, Isis and acoustic Agalloch coursing through them. Much brilliance comes from Matt Lawson’s impassioned delivery. He’s neither overwrought nor underdone, recalling the middle ground between Vinny Cavanagh, Michael Stipe and Mariusz Duda. When “In Silence” finally hits, Lawson’s untouchable. But there’s no discounting his bandmates. Guitarist Greg O’Shea, drummer John Bennett and bassist Gavin Parkinson show remarkable control over atmosphere and compositional depth. They, like the Anathema boys, know exactly when to rein in, when to transition and when to let loose, with the aforementioned “In Silence” proving to be the Prophecy’s finest moment.

There’s no doubt the British press are bonkers over the Prophecy—on raw talent alone, really—but now it’s time for 15 North Americans to care. Oh, 16. Forgot myself. —Chris Dick

Rotting Christ

7

Kata Ton Daimona Eaytoy Season of Mist

“Hey Rotting Christ! Two minutes for lookin’ so good!”

It’s a bit of a mystery as to where Greek legends Rotting Christ are trying to take listeners. Don’t get me wrong—their last album, Aealo, was an incredibly transcendent combination of native folk music, progressive thrash, black metal and shirtless ’70s stadium rock. Call it the newer, heavier, more metal Grecian Formula for Heshers; and because I enjoyed it infinitely more than any of the straight-up grind or black metal of their past, you can call me a false. Go ahead.

Do it. I can’t hear you from the confines of my geodesic dome where my ears still perk up and my skin gets all goose-fleshy whenever “Noctis Era” hits the deck.

Album number 11 (!) is cut from the same cloth—metallic grandiosity accented by mother

newnoise tongue chanting and singing, ethnic instrumentation, and an unabashed salute to darkened cultural nooks and crannies—but seems to lack the focus and cohesive directness of its predecessor, with the initial charm of the typewriterkeystroke-on-cardboard drum sound and experimental flirtations wearing their welcomes out rather quickly. Example: “Cine iubeşte şi lasă” has, presumably, Diamanda Galas’ younger sister vocalizing a throaty intro, which sounds like a tacked-on afterthought as opposed to a piece that works with the greater good. And those kicks… good lord!

But enough with the negative! “Xibalba” is a masterful injection of eerie moaning and vocal goose-stepping squirming its way into speedy beats and tri-tone darkness. “Grandis Spiritus Diavolos” is what classic rock radio stations in Athens will be playing alongside “Closer to the Heart” in 20 years time, and if entire soccer stadiums in Thessaloniki aren’t jumping in unison to the solo in “Iwa Voodoo,” then I’ll do something drastic, like move to Greece and try and find a job! —Kevin Stewart-Panko

Sacred Steel

6

The Bloodshed Summoning Cruz Del Sur

Spreading the gospel

“Sacred Steel” may be a pretty obvious metal band name, but it’s also a style of gospel music that uses lap steel guitars instead of an organ. It seems unlikely that fans of either thing would get one confused for the other, but I like to imagine that some unwashed hesher from Minnesota or an elderly black lady from Alabama has had their musical horizons expanded unexpectedly.

That said, I’m not sure Sacred Steel would be the best entryway to the land of bullet belts and flying Vs. I mean, they have the aesthetic down: grizzled old German dudes wearing leather jackets and gauntlets in the band photo, sub-EC comics cover art and music that a lazy journalist could describe as “an unrelenting assault.” They formed in 1997—The Bloodshed Summoning is their eighth album, believe it or not—and that’s also apparently when they stopped paying attention to the metal scene, considering their mastery of the mid-to-late-’90s Century Media catalog (specifically the work of Iced Earth and Nevermore).

And these guys, being of Teutonic descent, know how to pen a mean melodic thrash tune on, like, a genetic level.

Still, there are 15 tracks here, and considering there isn’t a single original idea or riff anywhere, it does make this particular summoning a bit of a slog to get through. Competence is wel-

come, but I still have my copies of Dead Heart in a Dead World and Something Wicked, thanks. I recommend the hypothetical church lady start with those instead. —Jeff Treppel

Sannhet

6

Known Flood Sacrament

Three ambient interludes and the truth

There’s something both pompous and kind of sweet about naming an American metal band “sannhet,” the Norwegian word for “truth.” It suggests a search for something essential, something pure, something oriented toward Bergen. At least, the idea of Bergen. Stylistically, Brooklyn instrumental trio Sannhet is only distantly related to black metal, Norway’s great musical export. But there is something “essential” to Sannhet’s debut, Known Flood. Not “essential” as in “necessary to own.” “Essential” as in the band strips music down to its skivvies, seeks more by concentrating on less.

You will find no proper songs on Known Flood, few recognizable riffs, no guitar wheedly wheedly and no vocals (with the exception of a guest spot by Primitive Weapons’ David Castillo).

Instead, Sannhet’s tools are dynamics and texture, deployed over simple melodic arcs. Guitarist John Refano’s a whiz with the looping and effects pedals, and he needs them, because compositionally Sannhet’s music is pretty ho-hum.

“Absecon Isle” and “Invisible Wounds” are structurally the same song, the only meaningful differences being where the loud part is, and which instrument drops out during the quieter tension-building part.

Sannhet are at their best at their simplest, on a song like “Safe Passage,” which refracts a single chord into a stomping, writhing waltz, shimmery and black. All the ambient intros and blackout fades on Known Flood? Meh. Sannhet can pound nails into skulls if they want, and there’s no need to wrap your nail-pounding gun in swaddling clothes. Instru-metal succeeds when it remembers that it’s metal. Sannhet mostly do.

Ain’t that the truth. —Etan Rosenbloom

Saxon

8

Sacrifice UDR

Old reliables

Saxon’s 20th studio album sees them still in top form: lean, mean and continuing the stellar run that now finds them more popular than ever. If anything, they somehow sound reinvigorated, d e c i b e l : a p r i l 2 0 13 : 8 3

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yet again. Inspired by a desire to be “raw, real and not… afraid to look back at the old classic material for inspiration,” it’s Saxon on steroids: all guns blazing, pedal to the metal, wheels on fire. Powered by punchy, power-laden production courtesy of frontman Biff Byford and the mixing skills of sound-supremo Andy Sneap, it’s a fat-free, in-your-face affirmation of what great British metal is all about.

Armed with a truckload of trademark riffs and typically-catchy choruses, the band explores its usual range of subject matter; mythistory (the title track, “Guardians of the Tomb”), war (“Wheels of Terror”), the plucky underdog (“Stand Up and Fight”), great engineering feats of yesteryear (“Made in Belfast”) and, of course, no Saxon album would be complete without a reference to biker culture (“Warriors of the Road”). The final track—“Standing in a Queue”—could only ever have been written by Saxon. Who else could transform a song about that most English of non-activities into the brand of fist-pumping, “coming home” anthem that’s been a rock touchstone since, well, forever?

Graced with outstanding guitar work, one of the best rhythm sections in the business and a vocalist who’s simply never sounded better, Sacrifice sees Saxon’s past, present and future smashed together in a blazing, blistering rollercoaster ride. Still eating lightning and shitting thunder, Saxon are heavy, Saxon are metal and Saxon are back again. —Greg Moffitt

Screaming Savior

7

Infinity

M e ta l H e l l

Thunder from a little further east

With the Chinese economy on the rise so swiftly that it’s only a matter of time before it’s the most powerful economy in the world, it was only a matter of time that the booming nation started to catch up with the rest of the world when it comes to metal music. With great prosperity comes great creativity, and with metal being the global force that it is, it’s hardly a surprise that Chinese bands are starting to make their way to these shores.

Screaming Savior are an interesting example. Formed in 2001, they specialize in the flashier, slicker-sounding strains of melodic/ symphonic black metal, and their second album has been reissued by Metal Hell. Hearing Infinity, this isn’t an “Oh, is that ever cute” instance of earnest musicians from a non-traditional metal country charming their way into 8 4 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

our hearts. They clearly know what they’re doing, as Infinity is a lavish, at times towering blast of black metal at its most bombastic, its skill and discipline shaming the recent work by supposed luminaries Dimmu Borgir and Cradle of Filth.

It may be sung in Chinese—translations are provided in the CD booklet—but with music this good, the universality of its appeal is more than enough. Songs like “Sanguinary Salvation” and “Wings of the Vast Sea” are dynamic, disciplined and often cinematic in scope, certain to thrill anyone who prefers the more polished side of the genre. No, Screaming Savior don’t break new ground, but there’s no questioning they’re for real. —Adrien Begrand

Soilwork

6

The Living Infinite Nuclear Blast

Seemingly endless time

Most of the time when a band records a double album, it’s a result of them having far too many ideas for a conventional album to contain. The best double albums are always exercises in selfindulgence by artists who are very much full of themselves, who successfully channel that egotism into a wildly eclectic listening experience. Even a four-sider as likeable and seemingly humble as Baroness’s wonderful Yellow & Green last year had its own moments of pretension.

That’s all part of the charm.

When Soilwork announced they were putting together a double album, though, it raised a few eyebrows. After all, here’s a band that’s comfortably ensconced in the melodic death metal formula, and rarely if ever wanders outside those self-imposed boundaries. You can have the best melodeath band on the planet and it can still be an enormous challenge to hold listeners’ interests over the course of 90 minutes.

And as it turns out, the primary flaw of The Living Infinite is its lack of variety, the cookiecutter nature of the songwriting wearing thin after the halfway point.

However, the good moments are exceptional, and there are just enough of them to warrant a mild recommendation. “Spectrum of Eternity,” “This Momentary Bliss” and “Tongue” are as good of combinations of aggression and hooks as Soilwork have ever put out, while “Whispers and Lights,” “Parasite Blues” and “Owls Predict Oracles Stand Guard” find the band starting to branch out stylistically. While not a failure, this double album would’ve benefited from more of that kind of audacity.

—Adrien Begrand

Spektr

8

Cypher Agonia

BM experimentalists plummet to the heavens

When it comes to lyrics, one of black metal’s two greatest strengths is its refusal to traffic in the trivia and clichés that pervade nearly every kind of music. The other is relative impenetrability. Almost without fail, any listener looking to gain new insight into, say, the Order of Nine Angles’ position on string theory, or how culturally embedded flaws in humanity’s perception of bacteria will destroy us, has to either listen damn hard or take the time to do some reading. Everybody else walks with a “get out of thinking free” card.

This isn’t to suggest for one moment that Spektr’s mostly instrumental, genre-transcendent, third full-length shortchanges any soul bent on getting in an evening of mental heavy lifting— quite the opposite. For anybody willing to spend a little time online, the handful of clips lifted from The Twilight Zone’s celebrated “The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street” episode and strategically slipped into the French duo’s amalgam of raw black metal, shoegaze, doom, noise, drone, jazz (per Bitches Brew-era Miles Davis), and classic soundtrack moves (’50s westerns, even!) will resonate harder and deeper than the complete lyrical output of most bands—even those who reference elves. Musically, Cypher isn’t just all over the place. Without sacrificing one quantum of overall conceptual integrity, kl. K. and Hth fuck with our expectations at every turn—dropping the musical equivalents of entheogen-dosed breadcrumbs in the hope of helping us find our way back to all those homes we never knew we had. —Rod Smith

Supuration

6

Cube 3

Listenable

Building blocks

Supuration combine the basic DNA of Bolt Thrower, Voivod and Fear Factory, and have done so since the early ’90s, while their more prolific alter ego, SUP, are a more melodic, modernized version of the original. Supuration only come out to play when they roll out the “Cube” concept, and Cube 3 is (surprise!) third in the series.

The band’s first album, 1993’s The Cube, was the best metal album to crawl out of France until Deathspell Omega came along. And you’ll have to pry those early 7-inches out of my cold dead hands. But since those pioneering days, it’s been

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record reviews

a lot of mediocre albums between their incarnations. The main problem is a dragging, midpaced momentum that renders every song a gray smear, one barely distinguishable from the next.

Even when they speed up, it feels blocky (“Sinergy Awakes”). Frustrating, because you can hear ingenuity bubbling below the surface, yet the songs rarely ascend to become the masterpieces they could be. Taken separately, most songs on Cube 3 are enjoyable, a highlight being the stuttering, well-layered “Data Dance.” Still, not even the fat, monolithic guitar tone can liven up these mostly dry compositions. High-fretted thematic melodies or analog synths would have spiced this stuff up a little.

With an excellent new Voivod album out there, Supuration yet again stand in that dominant shadow, and it’s worth mentioning because Voivod have always seemed a major influence on these Frenchies. Yet, despite never living up to the potential of their decades-old debut, this band is still worth some attention. For this prog metal enthusiast, they’re one of the best bands who keep letting me down. Masochistic maybe, but I’ll keep listening and hoping. —Jeff Wagner

Tengger Cavalry 7 Sunesu Cavalry M e ta l H e l l

The wonderful thing about Tengger is Tengger’s a wonderful thing

Idiotic cartoon deck aside, this mounted fighting force launches fearsome raids from its far Beijing lair. This album delivers an enchanting blend of black metal savagery, olde tyme heavy metal’s melodic lead sensibilities, and traditional Chinese throat singing and instrumentation. “Galloping Steeds” leaps immediately into the roiling currents where contemplative Eastern modalities mix with conventions of Western heaviness. Sunesu Cavalry represents the style’s pinnacle: neither the pastoral folk inflections nor the visceral metal attack accept dilution or servitude, and rarely do they appear in isolation. Instead they ride as peers into every battle, somehow burning villages and comforting villagers in equal measure along their thunderous campaign.

Not surprisingly for a young band brandishing a progressive musical form, TC are 8 6 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

---by Shane Mehling ----

In which we assess the damage done on this month’s Filthiest vinyl Old Lines Old Lines 12-inch [ s e l f - r e l e a s e d ] Sometimes I like to bitch that something’s been done way too much for me to enjoy it, and D-beat crusty hardcore should be probably top three on my list. But fuck, this record is so overbearing and uncontrolled—and just plain heavy—that the genre is irrelevant. Each of these seven tracks offers something different while still maintaining a ruthless consistency. And the packaging is both sleek and DIY. There are only 300 of these, and you should be one of those lucky 300.

Ilsa Intoxicantations 12-inch [ A 3 8 9 ] This is another slickly packaged record that even comes with a poster based on the band’s violent, pornographic namesake (hey kids, look up She Wolf of the SS). And it goes well with the metallic sludge rock of these 10 tracks.

Never sacrificing a chance for feedback, this is still shockingly catchy, and when it seems like they’re going to wade too deep into the mire, they pull themselves out with a piercing, foot-on-the-monitor solo.

Robocop/Detroit Dead Language, Foreign Bodies split 12-inch [Give Praise]

And this is yet another wonderful-looking record featuring a wonderful grind band, and a pretty okay powerviolence band. Robocop are just fantastic, working within grindcore and finding ways to pull out new ideas without ever having to get quirky or trivial. Detroit are solid enough, but after the creativity and strength of Robocop, their own production is just too lo-fi and off-balance to really succeed on its own merits. Still, as a whole, this is highly recommended—one of you maniacs should get the entire cover tattooed on your back.

Don Garnelli Negative Polarity 7-inch [ M a yb e I t ’ s A r t ] This is a revolving supergroup of sorts, as To Live a Lie label head Will Butler picks up new people for each release. I’m not sure what the other releases sound like, but this is almost four minutes of unfiltered noise-grind with an emphasis on noise. Vocals from Jordan Noe, who fronts hypergrindists Priapus, gives this the exact amount of human torment to make you feel pretty fucking terrible when it’s over.

Mob Rules The Donor 12-inch [ S o r r y S tat e ] Okay, I honestly wrote that thing up above about crusty hardcore not knowing these guys were going to essentially be the band that I was sick of hearing.

And true, there aren’t any pulled punches on here, although they show off some grisly riffs. But yeah, it’s not my first rodeo, and there isn’t too much that I haven’t heard before or will be lusting too hard to hear again. But if you can’t get enough of this stuff, I assume you will dig.

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painstaking with their performances and arrangements. Such careful attention both strengthens the results and widens the gap between musician and audience. These songs feel pored over, lovingly assembled from disparate cherished parts and wound meticulously into transcendental narratives, which subtly lightens the gut impact of otherwise eminently bang-worthy material. But “Golden Horde” is guaranteed to pump fists, and “Cavalry Folk—The Legend” is in fact legendary—when the word is overenunciated in epic Jack Black fashion—hopped up as it is on the righteous gallop last heard on Grand Magus’ The Hunt.

Slapping a numerical rating on this album feels presumptuous; some listeners will shrug, unimpressed, while others will soundtrack months out of their year with this, their precious and idiosyncratic new underground gem. Ignore the score. Give this a shot.

—Daniel Lake

Thousand year Rain

5

Prelude to the End Time ToH Media

Maybe no vocals are a good thing

Multi-instrumentalist Thomas Sankt is North Carolina-based Thousand Year Rain. From what the Internet tells me, the whole band is just Sankt kicking it by himself and coming up with whatever sounds awesome to his ears and his ears alone. I wouldn’t be surprised if this album was conceived, written, practiced, recorded and mixed in a basement studio of some guy with posters of Alice in Chains, the Cure and Fear Factory on the walls.

Prelude to the End Time, TYR’s third release, has no vocals and is little more than downtuned riffs and cruddy rhythms reminiscent of that regrettable moment in time where “nü” was placed in front of “hardcore” and “metal,” and white men with long hair thought it was supremely fucking rad to sport braided pigtails.

The album is brimming with woolly guitars like Drain or Staind or Godsmack or whoever sang “Stupefied,” occasionally making room for some gothy atmospheric moments, synth parts and faint chanting.

Sankt definitely has an ear for groove— “Woke Up Without a Soul” could be an L7 B-side, and there are flashes of Torche’s thunder throughout—but the guy gets caught in a vacuum too often, and what started out with some heavy muscle goes limp with monotony.

—Jeanne Fury 8 8 : a p r i l 2 0 13 : d e c i b e l

Trelldom

6

Til et Annet…

H a mme r he a r t

Emperor’s return

Man, oh, man. Can anyone chart the progress of what died a quicker death? Was it the popularity of dubstep once it became popular, or the cult of personality surrounding former Gorgoroth vocalist, convicted criminal, uneasy conversationalist and red wine connoisseur Gaahl once he came out of the closet? To those who never cared about the illusory hype built up around Norway’s black metal scene, shoulders continue to shrug.

However, there are those who view the revealing of Norwegian black metal’s commonality on par with what the world would have experienced had the Mayans actually been right.

Whether or not it’s an attempt to recapture the glory of what made black metal black— minus the arson and murder—this reissue harkens back to when people were still reeling from Norse chaos… long before it was realized that most of the scene was comprised of socially awkward loners lashing out at their insecurities from the confines of a record store’s basement.

Aside from being available on vinyl, this reissue is unnecessary to anyone but serious fanboys, especially since there’s no mention of rejigged sound or expanded packaging. But, here it is— “Venger Meg Mot En Et Kommende”’s rickety punk rock, the agonizingly annoying whine of the title track, the Celtic Frost recycling of “Til Is Skal Jeg Forbli”—in all its raw-as-fuck glory.

Still, “Min Doed til Ende” remains one of the most triumphant bursts of mid-paced blackness ever. If you’re ever searching for a soundtrack to the pumping of fists, and the hunting and killing of ex-girlfriends, telemarketers and every motherfucker who owes you money, there’s no better anthem. —Kevin Stewart-Panko

Vomitile

4

Igniting Chaos H o r r o r P a i n G o r e De ath P r o d u ct i o n s

The bowels are not what they seem

There’s a seven-up/one-down consensus on UrbanDictionary.com that says “Vomitile” is defined as something that is “so disturbing as to induce vomiting.” But if these Cypriot death metal dudes’ sound is anything to go by, something that is by definition Vomitile is more likely to calcify your guts than send you running to the john. Or running anywhere, for that matter.

Once you’ve worked your way through all nine tracks here, you’ll be left with a feeling that your

very life force has turned to granite, like you’ve tried to stare down a Gorgon and lost, and are now consigned to a windowless future completing tax returns for a glue factory. Vomitile are so wellintentioned that it’s hard to chew them out for turning out a record that really is a contender for acme of all generic DM miscellania. But, fucking hell, they’re pretty zzzzzzz... boring.

It’s not as though Igniting Chaos is outright rank awful. Some of the wobbly chug on offer, like, er, “Cesspool of Blood and Hate,” sounds okay riff-wise, bubbling on a bit like a post-lunch ultrasonic of the Hulk’s large intestine. Yet all too often Vomitile revert to hackneyed nonsense that you’ve heard 1,345,553 times before and better.

And the vocals are way too wimpish hardcore yelp for a band whose primary influence appears to be Cannibal Corpse—they were known as Cannibal Bleeding, then Kannibal, before putting vomit and projectile together and plumping for that silly portmanteau they answer to now. Urgh! Pass the Bisacodyl, take a deep breath and purge.

—Jonathan Horsley

Within the Ruins 8 Elite

eO n e / G o o d F i ght

Love bites

“Talking points: Tim (vocals) has a tattoo of a vagina with teeth on his arms.” Thanks, Within the Ruins press release! Let’s start there. Perhaps beginning with a comparison of the band’s music to vagina dentata. Then we’ll give the group its own genre (emasculating metal? über butch core?). A brief aside on the joys of the toothed vag horror flick Teeth. Finally, tying it all together by mentioning that WTR are a former Victory Records band, and yet another deathcore group from Massachusetts, providing knowing references for the Decibel community to mock. Then, more vagina talk.

And yet… Within the Ruins deserve better. A shame, ’cause I really had the first review ready to go. But Elite, the group’s third album, shows off a seasoned metal crew that could almost be pegged as cinematic—the strokes are broad, the sound is brutal yet harmonious (two traits few bands nowadays can handle simultaneously), the death growls of frontman Tim “Vag Arm” Goergen thankfully err on the side of discernible, and guitarist Joe Cocchi pretty much invents new ways to twist the band’s heaviness (“Solace” has something akin to funk buried within, while “New Holy War” sounds like a NES game and “Ataxia II” is the best instrumental Megadeth never wrote).

To sum up then: Will WTR grab you by the crotch and never let you go? Sure. But let’s just say the record offers more of a pleasant surprise.

—Kirk Miller

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newnoise

record reviews Harvester The Blind Summit Recordings

In this edition of the Boner column, we dissect and decode how the unsigned hopefuls of today are musically fucking with geography and regionalism in their attempts to become the stars of tomorrow. by kevin stewart-panko

Adrenechrome Hideous Appetites Adrenechrome play thrashy sludge with a shit-ton of progressive elements and a huge love of the many moods of Mastodon. Honestly, “Six Guns” and “Hymn for the Heathens” could have found happy homes on The Hunter! They sound like they call urban parts of the southern states home, but actually hail from Orillia, Ontario, a place with all the white bread and rednecks of Atlanta, but minus any amount of culture. www.facebook.com/Adrenechrome

Arbogast Arbogast Seriously, how is this band not already signed, touring with (and blowing away) the likes of High on Fire and the Sword? The world is a cruel and unjust place.

Who cares if a trio of dudes from Chicago sound like bearded, stoner-rockin’ mountain men jacked up on caffeinated grind? Ever been to Chicago? You can grow a nipple-length beard and generate enough frustration to power 20 Pig Destroyers just sitting in traffic. www.arbogastmusic.com

Chariots of the Gods Tides of War Chariots of the Gods play the sort of spit-shined and spray-buffed melodic death metal Gothenburg-ers use to rock their kids to sleep, although their lead guitarist loves him some Kirk Hammett. That they somehow got enough scratch together to get Glen Robinson to produce their 14-song, self-released debut (as well as some dude from Norther to guest on a song) means they probably actually hail either from an island where money grows on trees or the end of the rainbow, instead of Canada’s capital region. www.facebook.com/chariotsofthegods

Dead Aeon Apotheosis Any map of the world will tell you that the midpoint between Monaghan, Ireland and Tampa, Florida is somewhere in the Atlantic, not Warsaw, Poland. Don’t tell these Irish death dealers that; let them down gently by informing them that irregular triangles are indeed metal, and there’s some substance to their Morbid Angel and Behemoth worship. www.facebook.com/deadaeon

Godstopper What Matters After repeated listens to What Matters, the phrase that keeps coming to mind is “I don’t know what this band is trying to do.” A hybrid of doom, sludge, industrial and classic rock is what they offer, but it’s very uneasy and disjointed. It’s like they’re striving for a broad identity, but don’t know what they want or how to go about achieving it. No surprise then, that they’re from Toronto. www.godstopper.badcamp.com

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Harvester claim to hail from Ireland, but even though they worship heavily at the altar of fat, leafy riffs, they don’t sound at all high—or drunk, for that matter—in doing so. Sure, the ’70s, and specifically Black Sabbath, are big influences, but there’s a certain amount of intricacy and even more tightness on display here that make Sky Valley a more appropriate spiritual home. If only they knew how to properly pull a Guinness down there. www.harvester1.bandcamp.com

Kitezh Antitheist Metal-archives.com has informed me that Kitezh refers to the mythical city on the shores of the Svetloyar Lake in the Nizhny-Novgorod region of central Russia. This band sounds like they take furious, though somewhat meandering, cues from ’90s New Jersey metal/noisecore, technical NYDM and guns-blazin’ Polish grindcore. But they’re from Denver.

Jeeves, retrieve my atlas! I’m confused! www.facebook.com/pages/Kitezh/211968678859804

Robert Zemeckis Robert Zemeckis In the grand tradition of grind/powerviolence bands naming themselves after larger-than-life public figures (Charles Bronson, Marion Barry, Chuck Norris, etc.) comes a tip of the hat to the Back to the Future director.

Featuring members of Fuck the Facts and the Great Sabatini, they definitely sound Canadian—imagine Left for Dead mixed with Sacrifice— and definitely thumb their noses at the revising of history. www.robertzemeckis.bandcamp.com

Shroud of Despondency Pine I could’ve sworn this band was signed at some point.

Maybe the problem was that whoever they were negotiating a deal with kept sending the contracts to Norway when the band actually calls Milwaukee home?

Everything from the icy, murderous black metal of yore to the more proggy stuff Enslaved are doing today can be found here. Get this band a wider release and black metal fans will eat ’em up. www.facebook.com/shroudofdespondency?v=app_178091127385

Sonic Medusa The Sancutary Sessions Sonic Medusa seem more interested in letting you know that their lineup is comprised of former members of the Obsessed, White Zombie, Goatsnake and Sourvein—and that The Sanctuary Sessions were recorded with Scott Reeder—than informing you where they keep the time machine that transports them and their Orange amps to the ’70s and Motörhead’s England, Blue Cheer’s America and Thin Lizzy’s Ireland. Time travel trumps geography. www.sonicmedusa.bandcamp.com

Vaporizer Vaporizer This band fucking rules! I witnessed them live in their hometown last October, and was totally and hypnotically blown away by their mix of NOLA drug-addled sludge, vicious Neur-Isis metalgaze, and tasteful and scholarly musicianship. I had to pinch myself to make sure I was actually in Winooski, VT and not waiting to get mugged in one of American’s more decrepit hoods. The only way Vaporizer won’t be huge is if they break up. www.vaporizermetal.com

new noise (Find it at a record store. )  Bullet For My Valentine Temper Temper

 od wo Holly Undead Notes From The Underground

Riverside Shrine of new Generation SlaveS  Buckcherry Confessions

Soilwork the livinG infinite

 ’s en Heav Basement Filthy Empire

Suffocation Pinnacle of Bedlam  Hatebreed The Divinity of Purpose

Follow METAL CLUB on Facebook facebook.com/metalclub

METAL MUSIC, NEWS AND THE STORES THAT ROCK AS HARD AS YOU DO. Follow METAL CLUB on Facebook facebook.com/metalclub

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subculture

gear

Matt Olivo’s

Tools of the Trade Show: Decibel heads back for another tour of NAMM

This is Gearified’s second trip to the

international convention called NAMM (National Association of Music Merchants), which takes place in Anaheim, CA, just 30 miles south of the City of Angels. Basically, NAMM is where music instrument and equipment designers, manufacturers and distributors from all over the world get together to show off their shit, place orders, cheat on their wives with escorts and mingle with artists from every thread of modern music’s vast tapestry.

This year, it’s clear that metal’s role at NAMM has altogether come into its own. Currently, it seems that companies with well-designed/marketed metal-centric products have a damn good chance to proliferate and prosper. Massive conglomerates and industry leaders such as Peavey, Fender, Marshall and Gibson have all reaped the rewards of being metal-relevant. Indeed, metal is right at home here at NAMM. There are metal artists everywhere, and their rabid fans are waiting in lines, beer in hand, to get an autograph or picture. (Not a single line for a mandolin, piano, violin or dulcimer artist.) We gave hearty hails to dudes from Anthrax, Slayer, Testament, Megadeth, Dream Theater and Exhumed, while stalwart Sirius metal broadcaster Jose Mangin and Cali’s own Full Metal Jackie showed Gearified some love, as well.

Metal guitars, basses and amps are making a huge splash in the industry right now.

Competition is fierce for the coveted leader position. For guitars and basses, ESP, Schecter, Fernandes and Charvel all have strong offerings sure to entice young metallers, visually and fisMatt Olivo is the founding guitarist of

extreme metal trailblazers Repulsion, whose Horrified LP ranks as Decibel’s #1 grindcore album of all time.

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cally. However, Jackson still has an edge in that their designs are all original, thus more defined and focused. Additionally, changes in manufacturing have allowed them to offer a wide variety of instruments well within the $1,000 range. To be fair, all of the aforementioned are offering some awesome gear at previously unheard-of prices, without noticeably sacrificing quality or functionality.

On the amp side, up-and-comers Randall stood out with an array of metal rigs sure to please. EVH, Orange, Marshall and Peavey all have new amp products that Satan would approve of, and the smaller boutiques such as Engel, Krank and Diezel did not disappoint with their metal-tastic outings.

Lace, Seymour Duncan and DiMarzio all came correct with high-quality, forward-thinking pickup products. These companies now have several options for 7-and 8-string players, with 9-string products on the horizon.

Ultimately, this is a great fucking time to be a metal musician! Companies big (Fender) and small (Lace) “get it,” and are subsequently offering gear that sounds good, looks cool and—perhaps most importantly—doesn’t exhaust our finances.

Expect to see many of these choice items featured in this space, giving you the real-deal lowdown to get properly Gearified! A

subculture

horror

Richard Christy’s

Brad Pitt is the shit in Interview With the Vampire All right, Horrorscope readers—after 18 years of hiding this fact from many of my metalhead friends, I’m finally man enough (or woman enough) to admit that I’m a “Braddict.” If you haven’t thrown up already from that turn of phrase, then you surely will after you read this article—unless that is, you’re a big Brad Pitt fan, like myself. Although I think the fact that I’m a fan of Dismember, Lucio Fulci and Tom Atkins allows me enough cred to enjoy at least one thing that some people would think is uncool.

Please, let me explain. When I was 18, I joined a death metal band called Public Assassin in Springfield, MO. I had a scholarship in music, but on the day I was supposed to start college in Kansas, I decided to move to Missouri and pursue the life of a touring drummer. A few years later, after becoming an electrician to pay the bills, I happened to get a half day off work because it was the first day of deer season. Well, my best friend at work and I weren’t into Bambi slaughtering, so we went to see a movie that would end up changing my life: Interview With The Vampire.

Not only did I think this movie was amazingly badass—even with a lot of my buddies complaining about the gay overtones, which didn’t bother me at all—but I soon found out that Brad Pitt was from Springfield! Adding to my excitement was the fact that I opened up a People magazine a few days after seeing the film and saw that Brad Pitt’s dad was a former boss of mine (my electrical company worked for his business the summer before Interview came out)! I was so inspired to find out that someone from a small town where I lived could go on to be a huge star in a kick-ass vampire movie that I loved.

I’ll admit that in the next few years I might have had a rather unhealthy obsession with

Pitt, even going so far as to hang up Legends of the Fall posters in my band’s jam room, which got plenty of laughs from the guys in Incantation when they stopped by. But I really think that having him as a role model helped inspire me to work hard at what I love and remember that it doesn’t matter where you come from; it’s about where you can go. I know I’m no inspirational speechwriter, but dammit, the guy inspires me!

Well, look at this—I’ve forgotten to even talk about the film. Let me just tell you briefly, if you haven’t seen it and you’re into old Hammer vampire films with cool atmosphere, you’ll like this movie. It’s very epic and even has some cool gore, including an amazing scene where Brad Pitt cuts a fellow vampire clean in half!

My metal pick for this month isn’t technically metal, but since I’m a huge soundtrack fan and a lot of horror soundtracks sound pretty darn dark and heavy, I’m going to pick the soundtrack for Interview With the Vampire. It goes from being dark to epic to sad and ominous, and everything in between. There are some really creepy choral parts that fit this film perfectly, and I highly suggest you check it out.

So, for a “handsome”-ly fun night that won’t “Pitt” you against your significant other in a battle of what to watch, check out Interview With the Vampire and its amazing soundtrack!

Well, until next month, keep your horror horrifying and your metal heavy, and make every day Halloween! A

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undertones

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for the children • you set this up • I most certainly didn't • you absolutely set this up • I did not • so it's your contention that • that the baby likes tapes • likes tapes • yes • can I ask you a question • yes • what is the baby's position on wall sockets • they run at very best a distant second to tapes • cute • thanks • so let's back this up • by all means • the mail came • yes • and you went to the door to pick the mail up from the floor • right • where was I during all this • napping I think • ok. and in the mail there were • two requests for funds, a denial of benefits from blue cross blue shield, a survivalist catalog, and a international priority mail envelope with four tapes in it • four tapes • four

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• which you ordered • right • from where • sweden • sweden • yes • how much are they apiece • I don't know it depends • it depends • yes • on what • on where the swedish distributor got them from • you realize this is sad • I deny that this is sad • so you opened the priority mail envelope • yes • and you took out the tapes • yes and put them in a four-high stack on the floor • and that's when the baby grabbed one • yes I was so proud • you were proud • I was • why • because the baby likes tapes • please elaborate • well look at him • ok • what's he doing

• holding a tape • still holding the tape • if I handed him a CD would he also hold it • yes but not as long as he's been holding this tape • will you tell me something • sure • since the baby picked up this tape half an hour ago • a little less than half an hour • since the baby picked up this tape half an hour ago how many more tapes have you ordered • how many orders for tapes have I made or how many tapes have I ordered • you realize that that is a deeply tragic response • I deny that that was a tragic response • how many tapes • how many tapes • yes how many tapes • several • several tapes • several orders for several tapes • because • because the baby • because the baby likes tapes • that's the only reason yes • because the baby likes tapes • I don't see how else to put it • you don't • I don't • I know you don't A Illustration by tom neely [iwilldestroyyou.com]