Dying Fetus get a little too Tech for you? Not enough Suffo songs about the clink? Tired of not being able to tell Misery Index albums apart? Well now there’s Criminal Element. Formed in 2001 by then-Dying Fetus members Vince Matthews and John “Sparky” Voyles, the project was brought to life in 2005 by a rounded-out lineup of Death Metal all-stars. The current incarnation of this supergroup features Derek Boyer (bass) and Terrance Hobbs (guitar) of Suffocation, Darin Morris (guitar) from Misery Index, with Matthews still doing time behind the mic. But the end result isn’t what the uninitiated might expect given the scene royalty involved. Yes, these guys shred, blast, dazzle, and obliterate on a level befitting their collective resumes, but lyrically speaking, Criminal Element keep it straight gangsta. These joints are about the streets, bitch. As if you needed to be told, songs called “Convicted,” “Habitual Offender,” “Snitch Bitch Homicide,” “Suicide by Cop,” “Future Felon,” and “Drug Lord” aren’t delving into arcane metaphysical subject matter. A concept band, if you will, and that concept consists of crime and punishment exclusively. Musically I suppose it’s a looser gig than their day jobs. Shorter songs, simpler arrangements, Punkier attitude, more pit riffs, use of samples (the LP begins with an appropriate classic from Morgan Freeman), etc. Then again, this assemblage letting their hair down is still going to dwarf most bands’ A-game. Past drummers have included Adam Jarvis (Misery Index, Pig Destroyer), Rob Maresca (ex-Pyrexia, ex-Catastrophic), and most recently Chris Mahar (ex-Wasteform), but for some reason they’ve opted for a drum machine on album #2. It’s one of the most realistically phenomenal programming jobs I’ve ever heard, but it’s still a bit of a puzzling choice. One would think with this crew, all it would take is a phone call to get a fellow big-leaguer behind the kit. Nevertheless, talk to your doctor about Criminal Element. A quick, simple dose of Ghetto Grind might be just enough to scare you straight.
Warning: Criminal Element is not for everyone. Women with a history of domestic battery, aggravated assault, or public intoxication should not listen to Criminal Element while breastfeeding. Side effects may include dry mouth, severe neck pain, loss of hearing and vision while moshing, dizziness, property damage, and gas with an oily Discharge riff. Consult their back catalogue if you experience an erection lasting longer than 4 hours.

Tengger Cavalry is a band that I was interested in checking out from the moment I heard about them. In the realms of Folk/Pagan Metal, the vast majority of bands come from two schools: Celtic Folk and Slavic Folk. When you say “Folk Metal” to a fan of the genre, they immediately rattle off a slew of names, all of whom are from Europe, either Western or Eastern. The Western European bands tend to be Celtic Folk influenced and the Eastern European bands tend to be Slavic Folk influenced. Tengger Cavalry comes from an entirely different school. This is the first time I can recall ever hearing a Pagan/Folk Metal band from China that is influenced by Mongolian/Chinese Folk music and traditions. It isn’t the first time I’ve heard Asian Folk influences in Metal (Chthonic used some on Takasago Army and other releases) but none of the bands prior to this have been exclusively Pagan/Folk Metal. The Mongolian/Chinese Folk style gives Tengger Cavalry a very unique sound. In some ways, the fusion of Metal and Asian Folk has created a style that is both familiar and exotic at the same time. You get the standard instrumentation (guitars, bass, drums) mixed in with Chinese Folk instruments and structures. I was a bit disappointed by the fact that the Chinese/Mongolian Folk wasn’t further integrated into this band’s style. The places on Black Steed that shined were the slower, Doomier parts where the atmosphere and the Asian musical influences were more prominent. When a more traditional Black Metal approach and song structure was used, the band lost a lot of what made them unique. I wanted more of the atmospheric stuff and less of the “traditional” Black Metal style. Still, this is a very solid and interesting album. If anything, the music on this LP makes me want to go out and get the rest of their discography. Tengger Cavalry is supposed to have another release later this year so I’ll definitely be on the lookout for it.

The list of bands that don’t need to exist is feasibly long enough to wrap around the globe 667 times. Germany’s Neaera —first off, what the fuck is a neaera, how does one pronounce it, and why the fuck would anyone use it as a band name?— is assuredly on that list, though it’s hard to say exactly where, as determining such rank would be like trying to grade the quality of dust. I remember taking an interest to their 2005 debut The Rising Tide of Oblivion —Germany’s Metalcore/Melodeath scene was on fire in the early-to-mid ’00s, with the likes of Heaven Shall Burn, Caliban, Fall of Serenity, Six Reasons to Kill, Mourning Ends, and Maroon crushing pussies— but that interest was quickly extinguished by the artists formerly known as The Ninth Gate’s mundane unoriginality. Eight years later and these dudes still have yet to come up with their own idea. This is their 6th full-length over that stretch. That ought to tell you just how much thought goes into these stale, copycat efforts. More like THEIRS Is the Storm if you ask me. Listening to the vast majority of this record, I firmly believe this quintet would call themselves Heaven Shall Burn 2 if they legally could. Having Alexander Dietz fill in as a live guitarist in 2008 must have been the pinnacle of their collective existence. Certain riffs on “Walk with Fire,” “Back to the Soul,” and “Guardian of Ashes” indicate they’ve also been spinning some Amon Amarth recently, while “Decolonize the Mind” and “Ascend to Chaos” storm the At the Gates with the same conviction and bravado as the 99th guy who rhymed “fire” with “desire.” You won’t find a single arrangement here that you haven’t heard a thousand times before. It is not uncommon to forget who you’re listening to during a Neaera LP. The only thing that serves to set them apart does so in the bad way, that being the vocals of Benjamin Hilleke. He is a man of many voices, unfortunately none of them are worth a piss. They range from dull and forgettable (low grunts, his best Marcus Bischoff impersonation) to nails-on-a-fucking-chalkboard annoying (a high-pitch screech that sounds like an alley cat being sodomized with a blow-torch). Whenever the band actually does pull off their attempts at refurbished rehash —which is rare— Hilleke nullifies the vibe fast. For instance, I was going to add a point for the melancholic guitar flourishes on “My Night Is Starless,” but then had to subtract two for the god-awful clean singing on “Slaying the Wolf Within.” The world of extreme music simply does not require Neaera’s participation. Can’t anyone just be a fan?

Wow. Black Sabbath. The originators of Heavy Metal. The originators of Doom. Where does one begin? How about 1968? Eleven years before my dad made the mistake of busting that unfortunate nut, a Blues band called Polka Tulk loses the saxophone and changes their name to Earth. Two years and another name change later, they record a self-titled album that would change the musical landscape forever. (There isn’t a single soul reading this right now who would be the same person they are today if this hadn’t occurred. How’s that for a mindfuck?) Look, I don’t have enough space here to say everything I want to about Black Sabbath. What matters now is that 17 full-lengths, 8 singers, 6 drummers, 7 bassists, and a wealth of bad blood later: Iommi, Butler, and Osbourne are on wax together for the first time in 35 years. That’s pretty fucking awe-inspiring, even if said piece of wax often fails to be. I’ll keep it simple. 13 isn’t a bad record. It’s not a great one, either —they’re in their fucking 90s, cut ‘em a little slack— but taken for what it’s worth, it makes for a warm and fuzzy novelty spin. What exactly is it worth, you ask? That hinges on one simple question: Do you think it’s okay for legendary guitarists to steal their own classic riffs? Iommi isn’t even shy about it. “End of the Beginning” is “Black Sabbath,” “Loner” is “NIB,” “Zeitgeist” is “Planet Caravan,” etc. There isn’t a whole lot going on here that doesn’t sound familiar. The album even ends with the bell. It is what it is. We don’t seem to mind everyone else plundering the man’s spoils. If anyone, he should be allowed to do so as well. I wish Bill Ward were a part of this. I really do. But the dude from Rage Against the Machine actually does a serviceable impression of his drumming style. The best overall performance might go to Rick Rubin. He set out to recapture the feel of the debut —even forcing the trio to listen to it in the studio— and he certainly succeeded. Aside from “Dear Father,” which I’m pretty sure is about getting fucked in the ass by a priest, Geezer’s lyrics remain the same archaic verses. Impending doom, life and death, and that peculiar preoccupation with religion that sometimes makes you wonder if the guy’s a Jesus fag. Don’t be a Jesus fag, Sir Butler. It’s all a lie. As for Ozzy… I mean, c’mon… Taft was in office when this fucker was born. He didn’t have much range as a kid and can barely speak now, let alone sing. He sounds as good as he possibly can at this point, and honestly it’s probably the best he’s sounded since Lemmy was writing all his songs. Just be glad good judgement prevailed and this isn’t Michael Bolton for fuck’s sake. I refuse to pick on every little flaw just for the sake of badmouthing the record. The truth is: no Black Sabbath, no Metal Curse. No Metal anything. As a harmless nostalgic frolic, 13 serves its purpose as entertainment most dutifully.

I’ve gotten some oddball releases to review over the years. A few have been interesting, but most of them have been complete crap sent to us by labels that are clueless as to what Metal Curse is all about. We don’t review shit like Justin Bieber here. The operative word in Metal Curse is “Metal.” The latest album by Klaus Schulze is clearly not Metal. This is a double-CD release of Ambient soundscape music. The first track, “Shadowlights,” is pretty dark and I guess it would appeal to fans of Dark Ambient, particularly the early works of Mortiis/Vond or Wongraven. The other tracks are more lighthearted, but the music is still in a similar vein. Both CDs are packed to the limit, so Shadowlands is a lot of music to get through. The two main tracks, “Shadowlights” on the first CD, and “The Rhodes Violin” on the second, are both darker than the other songs on this album. Of course, both of those songs are fucking epic in length (“Shadowlights” clocks in at 42+ minutes and “The Rhodes Violin” is over 56 minutes long) so they take up the bulk of the CDs that they are on. If you’re looking for music to chill out to, this is it. It’s mellow, but still a bit on the dark side. If your idea of “chill out music” is Cannibal Corpse, I doubt this will be on your list of albums to buy the next time you’re at the local record store. If you’re into Dark Ambient, this might be an interesting listen. I liked it because it was nice background music for when Metal isn’t appropriate (like at work or when you’re hanging out with people who aren’t into Metal, such as the nice lady from Child Protective Services or your parole officer). It isn’t for everyone. Fans of Vond or the all-synth era of Burzum might enjoy Shadowlands, but if you’re into more brutal stuff, I’d avoid this.

For me, Power Metal is something of a guilty pleasure. I’m not a huge fan, but I do enjoy a bit every now and then. Once in a while, I like to hear a band that actually knows how to play their instruments and produces their albums to be both heavy and melodic. My main problem with Power Metal, though, is the tendency for bands that play in the genre to mistake Butt Rock for actual Heavy Metal. They think that by incorporating Butt Rock into their sound that they will become more “accessible” to the masses. What usually happens is that they create an abomination of an album that sucks so badly that their credibility never recovers. Israel’s Red Rose makes that mistake and it shows. The press release for this album says that “Their music style turned out to be some sort of mixture of Melodic Hard Rock, Classic Heavy Metal and Pomp Rock,” but that’s just a flowery way of saying that these guys think Poison and Warrant are Metal bands. Guys, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but they aren’t. They never were and they never will be. Based on that, you can pretty much tell that this isn’t going to be heavy on the actual Power Metal stuff. Sure, there are moments of pure Power Metal here, and they shine like bursts of flame in the darkness. They give you flashes of brief hope amidst the sea of whiney bitch vocals, shitty power ballads and Butt Rock guitar riffs. Songs like “King of the Local Crowd” are absolutely cringe-inducing. Even the tracks that are musically good are ruined by Leve Laiter’s “I want to be Mister Sensitive” Emo-Fag vocals and lyrics. This guy sounds like he gets his heart broken more times a year than Taylor Swift. The difference is that Taylor Swift actually rocks harder than Leve does most of the time. It’s sad when a twenty-two year old female Pop singer can overpower the vocalist for a band that supposedly plays Metal, but that’s how things shake out. While the failings of On the Cusp of Change are many, the two big ones are fairly obvious: there isn’t enough ass-kicking on this LP and they need a singer with some balls (or an actual vagina). Seriously, Doro Pesch could kick the entire band’s asses and she’s probably fifteen to twenty years older than the members of Red Rose. After having listened to this album, I’d actually pay Wrestlemania PPV rates to see that ass-kicking. I’ll even throw in $20 extra if it’s in a steel cage. If you’re a fan of Power Metal, you should avoid this. I’d only loosely classify this as Metal and there’s less “Power” here than in a dying cell phone battery.

For a band whose sonic brilliance and sheer might I did not fully realize until the late ’90s, I’ve quickly come to expect nothing less than near-perfection from NYDM legends Immolation. That’s just downright unfair, but who the hell can blame me? This is that rare breed of Death Metal band, cut from the same cloth as Morbid Angel, that can chill the listener’s spine through little more than brutality, ominous vibe, and the power of the riff. They’re one of the genre’s all-time heaviest and most insanely technical bands, yet have written some of its all-time catchiest songs, and they’ve had a beyond-remarkable run. Seven straight nearly flawless LPs. Seven!! That’s amazing! Unheard of! Put your thinking caps on, people. That’s an unprecedented feat in the annals of extreme music. By the way, it’s eight if you want to count 1991 debut Dawn of Possession —I think it’s a good record, not a great one— nine if you want to count this new effort… which I’m having a hard time doing. I can’t seem to put my finger on exactly why, but after 666 listens in 33 days, Kingdom of Conspiracy is still an in-one-ear-and-out-the-other affair for me. I have a few conspiracy theories of my own, none of which are probably strong enough to hold up in court. There’s the Super-Modern Production Theory. The same hindrance that plagued 2011’s Providence EP (still can’t find that bass guitar) is ever present here. The drums overpower everything, beastfucking the other instruments with a mix so polished it somewhat stifles the group’s inherent primal ferocity. Then again, I’d also be bitching if it was lo-fi for the sake of lo-fi at this stage of the game, wouldn’t I? There’s also the Lyrical Change Theory. Opting for a more doomed-society-of-slaves approach, perhaps the absence of anti-Christian narration for the first time on Immolation wax slightly lessens the dark, malevolent feel? Then again, how can I not consider lines like “The sadness of wasted life / The sadness of silenced dreams / Sorrow for these unwary victims / Witness the loss of all identity” to be the most pimp shit a motherfucker ever wrote down? No, I think there’s a logical explanation: It’s really fucking difficult to make brutal music memorable. So difficult that even the masters sometimes falter. It’s not like this is a horrible record. Ross Dolan’s bestial growl still sounds terrific, Robert Vigna and Bill Taylor’s atonal interplay is still awe-inspiring, and it’s all still oppressively heavy on an inhuman level. It’s just not as intoxicatingly hook-laden as efforts past. Vigna’s riffs usually have hooks that have hooks that have hooks. Here it seems as though he’s on guitar wizard autopilot. This could very well end up being Here in After 2 —an album that took a couple years to truly sink in— but as of press time, Kingdom of Conspiracy fails to live up to its dynasty of otherworldly predecessors.

Emir Togrul, the main guy behind Yayla, is one busy dude. On top of playing all of the instruments, he apparently is a filmmaker and puts the materials for each CD together by hand. He also apparently hand paints each Yayla t-shirt that is produced. I say “apparently” because this comes from the band’s press release. I don’t doubt that Emir Togrul does a lot of work for his band, but when you consider how much absolute horse shit is put in your average press release… Let’s just say that I have my doubts about it. Trust me, I’ve seen some press releases that were so full of it that you wonder who wrote them and if the writer actually listened to the album they were promoting. Yayla’s newest release is going to stand or fall on its musical merits, not what’s written in their press materials. Nihaihayat, the follow-up to last year’s Sathimasal LP (unless you count the soundtrack for Togrul’s film Fear Through Eternity, from later in 2012), is much in the same vein as its predecessor. Like Burzum, Yayla is a band that prefers the epic length song. There are three actual songs, each one clocking in at over twelve minutes. The intro and outro tracks (“Integumental Grasp” and “In Senility”) are a hair over five minutes each. The three songs are very repetitive, beating riffs into the floor in the same way that Burzum, Judas Iscariot and old Xasthur used to. While Sathimasal was more “cold and empty” sounding, Nihaihayat has more of a “wall of sound” feeling. The guitars are more prominent and also fuller. It’s definitely noisier, with a raw, dirty feeling similar to Darkthrone’s Transylvanian Hunger LP. I normally want a more polished recording, but Nihaihayat has definitely grown on me. I like that this album, while structurally similar to Sathimasal, has a more in-your-face attitude. It’s more “immediate” where its predecessor was distant and cold. That “immediacy” made a big difference to me, because otherwise I would’ve said that this lacked progression or any major changes to the band’s style.

It can be argued that Orchid’s Mark Thomas Baker is a bit of a trendfucking cunt. In the mid-’80s, when the Bay Area was booming, he had a Thrash band called Rabid. They never took off, and anyone who’s actually heard 1986’s Thrash Metal Attack compilation can vouch for why. Fast-forward to the early ’90s and the explosion of Seattle’s Alternative Rock scene. Nevermind, Ten, Badmotorfinger, and Dirt are flying off the shelves at a rate that dudes playing distorted guitars will never see again. Around this time, it just so happened that Baker resurfaced in a Grunge act called Liquid Sky. What a coincidence! I’d like to be able to give you the skinny on how bad Liquid Sky was —they did have a gay enough name to get signed— but I’ve never heard them. Nobody has, and perhaps that’s all we really need to know. After one more failed attempt at stardom in the short-lived Hard Rock group Bomber (gee, I wonder who they tried to sound like), MTB threw up two middle fingers to the music biz and walked off into the sunset, not to be heard from again for nearly a decade. “Screw you guys…home.” I can only assume the guitarist spent that hiatus eagerly waiting… watching… anticipating the next big thing. “Which bandwagon looks like the safest landing?” Then it finally appeared to him, like a vision in so many dreams: ripping off Black Sabbath. “That shit’s easy to do, never gets old, and people seem to eat it up! Where’s this been my whole life?” A call was made to ex-Bomber frontman Theo Mindell and Orchid was born. Listening to their sophomore full-length, it becomes quickly and clearly evident that this is the work of a songwriter who’s never had an original idea in his life. There isn’t a single arrangement on this entire hour-long album that hasn’t already been written by Tony Iommi & Co. The Mouths of Madness would at least be fun in a trivia kind of way —as in trying to guess which Black Sab songs Orchid borrow their riffs and solos from— if you didn’t have to deal with Mindell’s wretched Sunset Strip howl. This man’s voice is the sound of leopard-skin spandex pants, and his words are so obviously cut-and-pasted from other bands’ lyric sheets it’s ridiculous. Not sure if “Loving Hand of God” is about worshipping the king of Jews or a vicious men’s-restroom glory-hole handy-j, but either way I refuse to partake. However, this musical Mr. Pibb isn’t just another completely worthless album that no human being needs to hear. It’s a beacon of hope for all creatively-challenged musicians the world over. If you just hang in there long enough, and steal the right shit from the right people at the right time, you could end up moving 400-600 units for Nuclear Blast someday. Never stop following other people’s dreams.