Longtime Softcore pioneers Millencolin have always been one of my all-time non-Metal favorites. And while they might not be typical Metal Curse fodder, they are from Sweden and have been recorded by Dan Swano. Isn’t that close enough? If there’s no spot in your heart for the lighter side of Punk whatsoever, I respect and pity you equally. I can’t help but love this band. Their ’90s output —classics like Same Old Tunes, Life on a Plate, and For Monkeys— helped shape my high school years. An instantly likable mix of Pop and Skate Punk with occasional hints of Ska that sounded as good in person as it did on record, as I was fortunate enough to witness back when I was alive. They seemed to fade into the twilight shortly after the turn of the century. Following up 2000’s solid Pennybridge Pioneers with 2002’s less-than-spectacular Home from Home (a fans-only release at best), they disappeared from my radar until now. The Melancholy Connection is a rare/unreleased compilation that serves as a companion piece to 1999’s Melancholy Collection, which chronicled their odds and ends circa 1993-1997. Connection also features two new songs and comes with a bonus DVD, a documentary on the making of Pennybridge Pioneers. Obviously this comp focuses on the missing pieces from the last twelve years, which as I noted, don’t quite match the energy and passion of the band’s first seven, but there are still gems here. “Queen’s Gambit” and “Dinner Dog” (b-sides from the Penguins and Polarbears single) are the heartfelt, catchy anthems these guys are known for. New track “Carry You” is stickier than pine tar after a few spins, while “Out from Nowhere” has an undeniable newer-Bad Religion quality. Other standouts include “Mind the Mice,” “The Downhill Walk,” “Junkie for Success,” and “Bowmore,” which all pack major league-memorable choruses. If anything, this collection has inspired me to dust off the old records, and has me anticipating the possibility of a new album for the first time in a decade.

Not to downplay the historical significance or quality of the second and third demos from legendary Long Island Death Metallers Internal Bleeding, but how many reissues do we honestly need? Not to sell them short, 1992’s Invocation of Evil and 1994’s Perpetual Degradation have a permanent place in my heart. I had them both on cassette as a 15-year old virgin back in the flyer-stuffing days for fuck’s sake! Not to mention Perpetual Degradation being the first thing I was ever asked to review for Metal Curse. But they’ve already seen reissue in the form of 2001’s Alien Breed, which also had the decency to include their first demo and an unreleased track. So, since I already own that, plus the originals, Heritage of Sickness is pretty damn far from essential for yours truly. All it really has new to offer the Internal Bleeding lifer is the inclusion of two live bonus tracks —”Ocular Introspection” and “Prophet of the Blasphemies”— from the Mountains of Death Festival in Switzerland a year ago. While they do sound halfway decent, a couple okay-sounding live cuts isn’t much of a deal-sweetener. Now, if you’re a 15-year old virgin as we speak, or just new to the game, this package’s stock goes way up. No one’s finding Alien Breed on the shelf at Super Target anytime soon, so track this down at all costs. No self-respecting fan of Death Metal, East Coast-style or otherwise, should be without these trippy beats and slamming pit riffs. Tough to rate, as the material itself is excellent, plus the aforementioned sentimental value. Yet the lack of essentiality for the veteran and absence of any noteworthy bonus goodies can’t help but detract from the score.

Aura Noir was one of the first Black Thrash groups to emerge from the Norwegian scene, and at the time it was quite refreshing to hear a band that wasn’t blatantly ripping off Darkthrone, Immortal, Emperor and Burzum. That was 1995/1996. Four full-length albums later, we’re at Out to Die. Destruction and Kreator worship still abounds in every song. If I’d been born in the 1990s or had never been through the original Thrash heyday, I would probably think that this was the shit. Unfortunately, I was buying Destruction albums when Infernal Overkill was new. To me, albums like Out to Die are a pale imitation of the originators. They really aren’t doing anything new with the sound. Much like other bands in the movement, they’re attempting to recapture that spark of glory that made bands like Destruction, Sodom, Voivod, Metallica, Slayer and Exodus legendary. This is not to say that the band’s playing and sound are crap. This is well executed and well produced. The problem I have with Aura Noir is that they aren’t doing anything that I haven’t heard already. They found their sound long ago and they’re sticking to it. It’s formula from beginning to end with little to no deviation from “the plan.” I’m old and admittedly jaded. Bands like Aura Noir need to work a lot harder to impress me. Out to Die didn’t go anywhere that the band hasn’t been already - and they’re treading on already well explored ground to begin with. There aren’t any mistakes here, but when you play things this safe, you generally don’t have any. No boundaries were pushed on this LP at all. If you already own a couple Aura Noir albums, you really don’t need another one because musically, this isn’t any different than what you already have.

I’m surprised that Ray didn’t want to review this one since he got the original demos in a tape trade with Noah. HA! Just kidding, folks. He isn’t really that old. (We like to have fun here. Here’s my head shot.) All joking aside, I had prepared the obligatory history lesson regarding this reissued treasure, but I’d like to think the readers of Metal Curse don’t really need it. Everyone already knows that Mantas —”Evil” Chuck Schuldiner, Rick Rozz, Kam Lee— was pre-Death, and that Death arguably gave birth to our beloved Death Metal genre, right? Good. Glad to get that out of the way. For those of us not fortunate/ancient enough to possess the original tapes, Relapse has put this retrospective together which includes both the 4-song and 5-song versions of the Death by Metal demo, and the infamous “Rise of Satan” rehearsal, all from 1984. As an archaeological prize, this collection’s value is limitless. As hard as it is to believe, this was considered the most extreme music ever written and recorded at the time, and we shouldn’t forget that. But aside from its time-machine quality and historical importance, these recordings are pretty tough to sit through. It seems unfair and wrong to say this sounds like shit, but this sounds like shit. It shouldn’t come as much of a surprise considering it was recorded 28 years ago at a house in Orlando by three teenagers using the hubcap of a Dodge Aries and tin foil. Given those circumstances, maybe it sounds pretty damn good. Regardless, the only present-day enjoyment this has to offer is of the nostalgic variety. I usually don’t condone owning something you’ll never listen to, but an exception can be made when it comes to fossils as priceless as these.

Ah, Norway. Famous for its wooden stave churches… well, the few that are left that is (HA!)… its mighty forests, vast waters, twelve hours of annual sunlight, and rich tradition of dangerously unhappy people. Anyone reading this ought to be familiar with its icy hordes of stargazing Black Metallers, and of course, everyone knows Norway has a problem with trolls (TROLL!!!!). But as I have discovered with this third full-length from what might be the country’s heaviest export, it’s also the home of relentlessly slam-happy Death Metal. Kraanium’s primitive mid-tempo assault may not conjure mental images of Vikings, but that whole raping and pillaging thing seems about right. (Speaking of which, I still have yet to figure out exactly what the hell this mutilated zombie rapist is doing to those female corpses on the album cover, but I assure you it isn’t nice.) These guys hack, slash, and bludgeon with groove so brutal it’s like Devourment playing old Dying Fetus demos so loud they’re Waking the Cadaver. Complete pussies will be pleased to know that Kraanium utilize the standard Deathcore breakdown very rarely if ever, and in their defense they don’t really need it. Their steady rotation of chug and blast will get the pit moving just fine by itself. And if you’re not a mosher, fear not; Martin Funderud’s guttural esophageal emanations will have that left eye twitching like Cookie Monster’s while you clockwise headbang. Dude sounds like John Gallagher on 666 tanks of nitrous. This album should successfully fulfill those gore-obsessed barbaric urges, and could quite possibly awaken your inner breakdancer, but at the very least Post Mortal Coital Fixation will solve the long-pondered query of what precisely is the difference between jam and jelly. And that alone is priceless.

Nearly the only flaw with the previous U.D.O. album, 2011’s Rev-Raptor, was that it was released in several different versions with exclusive bonus tracks on each one. This is a problem that has plagued far too many bands over the years, and U.D.O. is certainly no exception. It is perhaps this legendary group’s only weakness. With that in mind, I was overjoyed to find out about this 2-CD collection of “bonus” and rare tracks, released to celebrate U.D.O.’s 25th anniversary and main-man Udo “Bastard!!” Dirkschneider’s 60th birthday. As far as I can tell, Celebrator compiles all of the band’s hard-to-find songs up to and including the Rev-Raptor Japan-only bonus tracks (although not the Limited Edition ones, which is a bummer, but at least that’s easier to find than the Japanese pressing), plus a ton of stuff I didn’t even know existed. You might not think that you need to hear a “piano version” of Accept’s venerable “Balls to the Wall,” or an “orchestral version” of “Tears of a Clown” (both of which are amazing!), or covers of “Metal Gods” and “Born to Be Wild” (which is a team-up with Raven), or Udo singing with Lordi (“They Only Come Out at Night”) and Hammerfall (an excellent cover of the Accept classic “Head Over Heels”), but if you’re an U.D.O. fan then you need all the Udo you can get. And if you’re not an U.D.O. fan… well, this won’t convince your stupid ass. With 25 tracks, Celebrator really delivers a massive amount of Heavy Metal, even if there are a few that are merely “remixes” of album tracks, such as Udo’s duet with Doro Pesch (from 2002’s Man and Machine), “Dancing with an Angel.” I hope to hell that this release brings an end to the protracted and grueling Bonus Track Wars, but that’s a pipe dream, so go ahead and sign me up for the next collection, whenever it may be unleashed, although I do think that if I can produce receipts for all U.D.O.’s previous albums, these should be free. And that’s all that holds Celebrator back from a ten.

“Pee in the shower! Pee in the shower!
Pee in the shower! Pee in the shower!”
No, that isn’t how the second cut from the classic Amongst the Catacombs of the Nephren-Ka begins, but it’s wild they made an album so memorable it still lends itself to parody 14 years later. Sadly, it dawned on me one night, gazing at my record collection, thinking, “Do I really need all the Niles? Never listen to ‘em…”, that they haven’t really written anything as memorable since. In retrospect, all Nile albums have been good. That is to say they sound fantastic and enthrall with brutality while being played, but once they’re over nothing is remembered. (The title track from Black Seeds of Vengeance doesn’t count. Too easy.) Hard to argue with results, though. As far as Death Metal bands go, Nile has achieved extraordinary success. Whether that’s because they appeal to the afraid-of-Satan Death Metallers lyrically, or because some Metalheads are convinced Karl Sanders is really Greg “The Hammer” Valentine, is a debate for another time. When I popped in At the Gate of Sethu (bless you), I was reluctantly expecting more of the same. A Nile album that sounds like all Nile albums sound. Fast, brutal, technical, Egyptian bullshit, etc. All of a sudden, I can only wish that were the case! We still get the speed and virtuoso skill level, and of course the Egyptian bugaboo, but where the fuck is the heaviness? And what the fuck’s up with the vocals? Forgive me, I don’t know which of their 37 vocalists is which, but the low growls have taken an unfortunate backseat to awkward, lightweight, pitiful yelling. Related to the return of Joe Vesano or not, the vocals on this album are embarrassingly awful, and that deliriously heavy bottom end is gone. Perhaps a more traditional tuning, a more organic production, and a neutered vocal approach is all an effort to revisit their Thrash roots? Not sure, but the end results are alarmingly weak. I wanted this record to stand out, but not like this. On second thought, I think I’ll keep all the Niles. I’ll just stop at whatever their last one was called.

I’ve heard a lot of different descriptions of what kind of music Borknagar plays. They’ve been mostly described as Avant-garde Progressive Folk/Viking Metal, but that’s really just a fancy way of saying that Borknagar, for all of their Folk and Viking Metal heritage, is essentially a Power Metal band now. Urd has more in common with releases by Iron Savior, Iced Earth and Rhapsody than anything that could be classified as “Viking” or “Folk” Metal. There aren’t any Viking or Folk elements on this album at all, unless you count the cover art. If you were seriously looking for something in the Progressive Folk/Viking Metal vein, I’d recommend the new Einherjer album instead. It’s progressive musically, but still has the Viking/Folk elements, where Urd is lacking them. Lyrically, Urd’s central theme revolves around the apocalypse - specifically humans doing something to fuck up the environment and causing us all to die. Honestly, if I wanted to hear someone whining about how fucked up the environment is, all I have to do is walk down the street during my lunch hour and I’ll be accosted by some dreadlock-encrusted college student with a clipboard who would be more than happy to tell me all about it. I don’t need to hear about it on a Metal album unless it’s environmental revenge fantasy like The Bastard by Hammers of Misfortune (spoiler alert: the trees come to life and kill everyone). I guess that with all the 2012 Mayan calendar bullshit that’s been going on, these guys decided to cash in on the hype. Musically, this is very well played and the songs are very well thought out. This isn’t the most awesome Power Metal album ever written, but if you’re a fan of the genre, there’s a lot to like about Urd. My only real gripe stems from the fact that I was a fan of Borknagar back when they actually played Viking Metal and I was disappointed that they’ve essentially buried that past. I wanted to hear the old Borknagar. What I got was a Power Metal album instead. It was a good Power Metal album, but it wasn’t a Borknagar album. At some point, a band strays so far from their original sound that the band’s name isn’t appropriate anymore. I think Borknagar is at that point. Without the Viking/Folk elements to their sound, they’re really not the same band.

He is hater of the rotten Earth
He is the nova that will drape the sky in woe
We drink from his poisoned water
He is lord of those who dwell bound in sickness
Spitting vomit in the face of faith
Cleansing us who must atone for being weak
We drink from his poisoned water
He is the shadow cast upon the those defiled

Victorious call
It will not befall
No salvation is free
Death comes beckoning me
Encircle thee
Voices come in wind
Son of perdition
You come beckoning me

The sky embedded in the death of a nova
Effigy is seen in a second of light
No voice in the crack of his mouth
BASTARD SON OF GOD!!

In today’s overcrowded musical climate, unsigned Metal bands rarely turn heads. With six months now being considered a generation, there isn’t enough time to keep an eye on the developmental league. In the case of Dallas’s Protest, however, great lengths have been traveled to ensure they catch your eye. With an all-pro self-financed layout and snazzy full color press release boasting a mixing job by Tim Kimsey of King Diamond/Mercyful Fate fame, The Corruption Code promises not to look or sound like your average demo. But who gives a shit, right? Everyone knows that you’ve got to have money to make money, but what you might not have known is that drums on this album were performed by Malevolent Creation’s Gus Rios, and it also features a guest vocal spot from Absu’s Proscriptor. Now you’ve got my attention! So, wait a minute… how is this band unsigned? It only takes one listen to reveal that unfortunate answer. Musically, Protest are a little late to the party. Guys, don’t get me wrong, it’s awesome that you can play all these Slayer riffs —I’m sure you’d dominate open mic night at any watering hole in the Midwest— but carbon copies tend to fade after three decades. I mean, these riffs and solos are lifted straight from the Reign in Blood tablature book! That would be cool… if you guys were Slayer and the year was 1986. You’re not. It’s not. It doesn’t help that frontman Jason Burris’s vocals are of the strained, shouted, tough guy variety. A couple times he’s even reminiscent of an inbred faggot whose last name rhymes with Hans Elmo. And that Proscriptor cameo? Just a short, high-pitched wail to open the last song. So, despite their “star power” selling points, Protest are ultimately a band no one does, will, or should care about. An unofficial Slayer tribute band with a good drummer and a shitty vocalist. The type of band that plays at noon on the first day of a 3-day Metalfest.

I have no idea why I didn’t review Blaze’s previous release, 2010’s excellent Promise and Terror. I meant to, but somehow it slipped through the cracks. Maybe I listened to it so much that I thought I’d already reviewed it? Maybe I’m psychic and subconsciously knew that I’d later regret giving Blaze a positive review? I don’t know how or why I neglected that album, but it was a truly amazing slab of traditional Heavy Metal, with a somewhat more modern production to beef up the crystal clear sound. It was so good that Blaze was apparently driven insane under its weight, and during (or perhaps just before) the supporting tour, fired his entire band and hired different scab musicians in every town to back him up. For real. Shit doesn’t get much more idiotic than that (although Blaze would find a way… several, actually), so I was understandably more than a little nervous about him recording a new album. And then I saw the ridiculously hubristic title: The King of Metal. The King? Really, Blaze? You? Not Halford? (Okay, he’s the Queen of Metal.) Not Dickinson? Not Dio? Not Lemmy? Not about 666 dudes more worthy of that title than Blaze cunting Bayley? Holy fuck. And then I noticed the “record label,” Blaze Bayley Recordings, which has, of course, only ever released Blaze Bayley albums. But still, I wanted this to be good. I dared to hope! Then I saw the track list. Second song: “Dimebag.” Could there be any chance that Blaze is talking about buying weed? Nope. It’s a love song to the ghost of that bitch from Pantera. I am glad that he is dead. I wish they had all been murdered. Let me spell this out for you: Pantera was a marketing gimmick, not a Metal band. If you don’t believe me, take a peek at their complete discography, including the early Glam albums they would later deny existed. Pantera was a corporate creation, not actual artists, and simply a way for their record company to safely present “rebellion” to the masses and relieve them of their cash. They did not create art, they produced products. But, I digress, so back to this particular musical miscarriage. Admittedly, the playing here is occasionally aggressive in places, mostly the drumming, and there are a few okay riffs, but the production is really lacking and unpolished. Surprisingly so. And the brief moments of okayness are far overshadowed by the sickening Butt Rock tendencies in some tracks (“The Black Country,” “One More Step,” “Judge Me,” “Beginning”), and Blaze’s intense, preposterous lust for the sound of his own strained, fading voice above all else (often, not surprisingly, greatly de-emphasizing the band to highlight it). It’s the difference between being in a band that writes actual songs, and thinking that your singing is so awesome and moving and perfect that you only need music at all just to back you up and quiet those mean jerks who expect guitars. It’s being a cunt, honestly. This was made even more annoyingly clear when Blaze recently scheduled a string of a cappella performances. (Not a joke - Google it.) Seriously, the guy who would call himself the King of Metal thinks that he doesn’t need guitars or drums. Fuck you, Blaze. Fuck you for making an album so offensively shitty that it has retroactively damaged your previous work. I’m glad that I didn’t review Promise and Terror because I’d now be embarrassed, and you should be, too.

Considering that Deadborn features ex-members of Necrophagist, it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise that the sprightly titled Mayhem Maniac Machine is little more than an endurance exercise in sterile, mechanical-sounding, brutal Death Metal. Don’t get your Atheist boxers in a bunch, Necrophagist fans. I acknowledge your favorite fretboard scientists’ amazing skill and exhilarating live performance, I merely require songs to be memorable as I’ve reached a stage of the game where pyrotechnics have lost their pizzazz. Deadborn definitely aren’t short of talent either, however, it’s brutal, it’s fast, it isn’t much else. Calculated, unfeeling technicality rapidly stabs in unison with flour-sifter drumming while the vocalist just keeps going on about “cybernetics-this,” “cryonics-that,” a “bionic” here, a “cortex” there. Dude, I’m 33. I don’t speak binary code, man. This is why I change the channel when Star Trek comes on. Mario Petrovic’s vocals are undeniably all-pro. A deep, Frank Mullenesque, intelligible roar with a wealth of deadly potential, should Cybertron ever cease to be his muse. Raymond Babbitt couldn’t tell these songs apart. It’s just an endless series of interchangeable 26-note riffs and robotic snare punishment. When they do attempt to switch up the pace a little, it isn’t enough. By the time you reach the grimy Industrial outro, “Kraftwerk D,” you’ve forgotten who you were listening to. These guys certainly aren’t slouches and this is not a bad record, it’s just mind-numbingly boring.

Now that The Devil’s Blood and Blood Ceremony have made a combined $8, rest assured we’re bound to see a gaggle of imitators clamoring for a piece of that fortune. In all fairness to this trio, I’m sure they were each involved in boring, recondite projects long before The Devil’s Blood hit our shores, but since no one cares… I will say, at least they had the decency to mark this album with a disclaimer that warns would-be purchasers that the contents of Constantinople are intended for the sterile, ineffectual Safe Metal class of ex-heshers who’ve recently become parents and now feel the need to tone down their musical preferences. That disclaimer, of course, being the seal of Neurot Recordings. And, once again, in all fairness to Ides of Gemini, they aren’t really Metal of any kind. Truth is, the three-piece themselves probably couldn’t advise you on what to call their music, since they’re essentially just doing some laid back jamming. Categorization is such a cheap heterosexual tool anyway, however, a safe assessment might be Art Rock, or maybe Post-Rock. Or maybe Post-Folk? Have we used Post-Folk yet? Post-College Doom? Doo-Wop Fusion? Think about it. I don’t know, what do you call it when Decibel writer J Bennett plugs in to his Peavey Bandit 112 and starts churning out completely disjointed Stoner riffs and ’70s Rock hooks? One hot chick plays minimalist hippie percussion while another hot chick gives it her best Mazzy Star try. I don’t think Deci-Bot would even know what to do with this one. They also credit the hot chick singer with playing bass, but I definitely don’t hear any bass guitar being played on this album. Do you? Oh wait, there it is on “Reaping Golden.” My bad. I guess they just turned the bass down because it was waking the baby. HA!

Just what every grown man needs. To listen to some guy jack off for 47 minutes. Guitar albums. What a fucking waste of time. I want to come home from work and listen to some douchebag with too much fucking free time play faggy guitar solo after faggy guitar solo on top of basic Thrash templates. This is the ex-fag from Nevermore doing his own gay shit. Cool, another guitar solo. Did I just hear bells? What a fag. Way to put bells on your gay guitar solo album, dude. Cool, more solos. This fag can really play his guitar well. Good for him. “Look at me, mommy! Watch me swim in the deep end, mommy! I can do it, mommy! Mommy, you’re not lookin’! Lookit, mommy! Mommy, lookit!” That’s what I think of guitar albums. That’s what I hear. Hey, this fag just played another guitar solo. Awesome! That’s totally what this album needed. I like your Meshuggah riff, dude. And that blast beat was fire. It sure is fun listening to you practice. “You’re doing it, Jeffy, you’re doing it! Mommy’s so proud of her lil Jeffy! That’s mommy’s lil Jeffy. Go Jeffy go!” Not all of the songs on this guitar-solo-gay-pride-parade are instrumentals. Because what a stupid fucking idea it would be to have a whole album of a fag playing guitar solos without any vocals at all, right? That would just be silly. So, four of the songs feature guest cunt vocals from some cunt, and one of the songs features guest vocals from Ihsahn, who wasn’t always a cunt, but is pretty much a cunt now. Some fags from Megadeth also drop by to play more guitar solos. Because that’s what the album was really lacking, more guitar solos by different fags. If you’ve reached a point in your life where this kind of thing sounds appealing, just kill yourself. You’re already dead… and gay.

It’s no surprise that a band named Revel in Flesh would owe a little something to Entombed, and that’s certainly the case here as the stains of the classic Sunlight sound permeate Deathevokation’s every nook and cranny, but the sources of inspiration don’t stop there. It’s a safe bet that this German duo have spun Seance’s Saltrubbed Eyes and Dismember’s Massive Killing Capacity a time or two, but the band they remind me of most is the mighty Fleshcrawl. So much so that a triple-check was in order to ensure this wasn’t actually some new Fleshcrawl incarnation. At this point in the review it should be clear to originality seekers that they’ll need to look elsewhere, but those who worship unconditionally at the altar of Swedeath may very well have found their new band of the month. Revel in Flesh definitely have all the tools to propel themselves near the top of the NWOOSSDM heap, and while this album doesn’t really have a wealth of standout cuts to mention, records don’t get much more solid as a whole. Every thunderous bass-drum kick explodes like a pipe bomb going off in your colon, every tremolo-picked melody summons mental visions of Dismember running shirtless and covered in blood through the “Soon to be Dead” video, and Ralf Hauber’s bestial growl is deathvastating enough to scare away a mountain lion. Plus some guy named Dan Swano mastered it at some place called Unisound. Originality might come with age as the band progresses, but for now their unashamed homage to the most carnal of leftovers has this Death Metal fiend more than pleasantly placated.

This is my first encounter with Montreal’s Towards Darkness (formerly known as The Mass), but just by popping the disc in you can tell you’re in for Funeral Doom. Their sophomore outing consists of four tracks that total five minutes shy of an hour, so this is either Funeral Doom or a short EP with a hidden bonus track 45 minutes after the last song. (I’ve had about enough of that shit, by the way. Just what I want when I’m driving… dead silence for who knows how long!) Album opener “The Arrival” confirms my suspicion. This is definitely Funeral Doom and there’s going to be a lot of it. Luckily the leadoff track succeeds at creating an abysmal, synth-laden atmosphere akin to the likes of scene giants Shape of Despair, a euphoric feeling of dejection at the speed of a meaningless life. Kevin Jones’ throaty scream may be considered lightweight for this genre, but it’s tormented enough to get the job one. Unfortunately after “The Arrival,” these guys waste no time wasting time, as follow-up 16-minute epic “Avenues of Manipulation” feels like an intro for eight agonizing minutes. Once the vocals kick in, the song achieves the same downtrodden majesty as its predecessor, but is the payoff worth the tedious wait if this single vibe is all the band does really well? “Holy…Dying…Lifting” is next with a more palatable length of eleven minutes, but again it feels like an eternity before it gets off the ground. Six minutes of background noise, Morse code, and lifeless dirges to begin the song? Really? And an abrupt ending to boot. The album closes with the 18-minute, ironically titled “Awakening,” and by now I get it. The band shows promise but does not have it figured out yet. Funeral Doom just might be the toughest style to pull off after all. As alluring as Barren begins, it ends up being the musical equivalent of Advil PM.

I generally hate doing EP reviews because with only two or three songs to listen to, it’s hard to tell how good a band is or where they’re at musically. Even with established bands, EPs tend to be hit-or-miss affairs. A Ceremony at the Edge of a Burning Page is a fairly good EP. Bishop of Hexen comes from an era when sounding like Cradle of Filth didn’t immediately get you called a poser faggot. And these guys do sound a lot like Cradle of Filth. Even after all of these years, Bishop of Hexen still has trouble shaking the comparison. I don’t know if that is going to help or hurt their prospects for recording and releasing a new album. The band has been on hiatus for the last several years and this release is essentially to let their fans know that they’re still active. The two songs on display here are pretty standard fare for BoH. The first thing that you notice, besides the obvious Cradle of Filth comparison, is that the guitars are barely audible at best. I think that I hear them clearly for about five seconds on the first song and then they get buried underneath the massive keyboard sound. This fourteen-minute EP is essentially snarling vocals, symphonic keyboards and blasting drums. If I were the guys playing the guitars and the bass, I’d be pretty pissed. Honestly, what’s the point of having a bass player and two guitarists if you don’t ever hear them? They may as well not even be there. I was never a huge fan of this band, mostly because if I wanted to listen to Cradle of Filth, I already owned several of their albums. Clone bands never got a lot of space in my CD collection and while Bishop of Hexen did a fairly good job of it, they were still one of the clones. If you’re already a fan and you have to have everything they put out, you’ll probably enjoy this as much as anything else they’ve done. The rest of us aren’t really missing anything.

There are few personas I admire more than GG Allin. Darth Vader, Michael Myers, Ted Bundy, and Nathan Gale might comprise all of that short list. But as an avid collector of the man’s recorded output, ranging from Brutality and Bloodshed for All to the Malpractice days, I am a music-first GG fan. I think it’s sad that all he’s remembered for is his ridiculously over-the-top stage show (even earning a cutaway spoof on a recent episode of The Cleveland Show for fuck’s sake). He was more than just a Shock Rock freak show to yours truly. He was a great songwriter who could pen a catchy tune like few can or ever will. That said, at least he’ll be remembered for something, and as I step down from my soapbox, I have to admit his live performances were hard to turn away from. This DVD serves to remind us just how captivating that bloody, shitty train-wreck was. Blood Shit and Fears captures five truly remarkable gigs. Remarkable in the fact that none of them end prematurely with GG leaving in the back of either an ambulance or a police car. The first three shows, from November of ‘91, showcase a fresh-out-of-jail, energized, focused, relatively sober GG Allin. I say that because all of the infamous chaos —shitting, shit-eating, shit-throwing, microphone forehead-bashing, and mic stand-launching— seems fairly orchestrated, and, as I said, GG makes it through the songs and sets in one piece. Fast-forward to the last two shows from May of ‘93 —just a month before his last show and untimely death— and you can see the difference. This fresh-out-of-jail GG is a bloated, incoherent, stumbling, vomiting mess who seems more interested in attacking crowd members than singing the lyrics. What a terrifying experience being in the audience must’ve been. The setlists from the first four gigs are nearly identical, with classic anthems like “Bite It You Scum” and “Outlaw Scumfuc” as highlights, while the last show works in more of the Brutality and Bloodshed material, GG’s bark a borderline Death growl by this point. Surprisingly most of these gigs look and sound fairly decent given the hazardous conditions they were filmed in and the equipment used. Overall, this is a solid collection of sets from the Murder Junkies era, displaying this troubled legend in all his reckless glory. There’ll never be another GG Allin, and there’ll never be a stage show as fearless and obscene as this.

There was a glimmer of hope when I discovered that former Opeth and Amon Amarth drummer Martin Lopez had formed his own brand new project, enlisting the legendary talents of four-stringer-for-hire Steve DiGiorgio (Sadus, Death, Autopsy, Testament) in the process. I assumed that Lopez, unlike his former iconic frontman, was not ready to succumb to old age and start making glorified Seals and Crofts albums, and that he’d attempt to keep the Death Metal flame alight with his new mates. I temporarily forgot what an ice cold bitch hope is, and couldn’t have been more wrong. While it can be argued that Cognitive does burn brighter with a higher sense of urgency than the sleepy cryonics project that Heritage was, there is no Death Metal here. Arguably no Metal at all. Soen sounds like Tool. I don’t mean that there’s a slight influence or that it’s often reminiscent, I mean Soen sounds exactly like Tool. From the tribal drumbeats to the bass tone to the vocal patterns, Tool could sue this band in court and win easily. And not the really good Tool (Opiate, Undertow), I’m talking about modern day, King Crimson-aping Tool like that found on 10,000 Days (which is ironically how long that album feels). Singer Joel Ekelof does have a great voice. His tone, oddly enough, is not a far cry from Mikael Akerfeldt, but every song here is the same quiet/loud/quiet trick. I have to wonder what he might be capable of when not forced to mimic Maynard James Keenan’s every molecule. Backed by a non-tribute band able to produce authentically emotional music, Ekelof could be something special. As for Soen, I guess if you’re in the mood for Tool, but don’t want to hear the real Tool, and you’re tired of the half-dozen more well-known bands that already sound like Tool, then Cognitive is your extremely pathetic dream come true.

In the realms of female-fronted Metal, most of the bands fall into one of three categories: Goth Metal, Power Metal or Folk Metal. Germany’s Lyriel is categorized as Folk Metal, but my guess is that this categorization is from their earlier material. Leverage is more along the lines of Goth Metal but with Folk Metal flourishes. Their violin player gets plenty of time, but this album has more in common with Lacuna Coil than it does with Turisas. Since this is my first exposure to Lyriel, I can’t tell if the shift towards this sound was gradual or if it is vastly different from their last album. The songs themselves are not bad, but if you listen to other bands in the Goth Metal genre (particularly the other female-fronted bands), they come off as being generic. By adding the Goth Metal stuff into their music, Lyriel isn’t becoming more distinctive, they’re actually becoming more plain. It’s marginally better than being too “out there,” but at the same time, nobody is ever going to look back on this as being their best work. I did like the music on this album but nothing here is groundbreakingly different. I would classify the music as being unadventurous more than anything else. The idea of fusing Goth Metal with Folk Metal sounds good on paper, but the actual execution didn’t produce a result that was greater than the sum of its parts. Instead of taking the Goth Metal sound, I would have tried to take some of the Goth Metal atmosphere or feeling instead. Dark, mournful atmosphere in Folk Metal is a rare thing. I think Lyriel would have benefitted from that far more than trying to be Evanescence or Lacuna Coil.