Inebrious Incarnate - Abstemious Genocide (2021)

The prospect of a brutal death metal alternative to the Teutonic alcohol thrashers Tankard is a fun one, because the suds must flow across all genres of carnage, and it's one that knee-slappingly named Inebrious Incarnate seems to embrace, with what must be one of the most fun and outrageous album covers you've seen all year. Reading that some of these blokes were also members of Unfathomable Ruination kind of keyed me in the musical content was going to be no laughing matter, and it's not, but a tautly executed array of face-punching riffs that sit well within their parent style but also show no shyness towards including the occasionally more grinding edge, or maybe even a bit of aggressive, technical thrashing like on the opening title track.

The production is really bright and pugilistic, the rhythm guitars have all the chugging force you'd need to offset the squeals or spikes of technicality, but there's also a nice boxy tone to it which doesn't ever feel too terribly over-dubbed or polished like a lot of albums in this niche can feel. The major influences I can feel through this 37-minute drubbing are perhaps Suffocation, George Fisher-era Cannibal Corpse, and Cryptopsy, but sometimes they go for a total knuckle dragging slowdown mugging ala Devourment, or even some clinical death/thrash chops that are reminiscent of Dutch staples like Prostitute Disfigurement or Pestilence. The vocals are cast in a genre-typical guttural bark mixed with snarls circa Napalm Death, but it flexes really well with the rhythmic variation and he gets a nice sustain over some of the ends of his lines which hovers ominously over the much busier music flashing beneath. The drums are so frothy and fun that the kit sounds like its about to explode out of the recording like the beer glass through the entrail-spilling torso on the cover, but there's still a great level of control, lots of fills being thrown around there, grooves that stick.

In fact Inebrous Incarnate tries to pack in as much as they can into the space of these 3-minute-and-change tracks without ever going disgustingly showy or wanky. What thrilled me the most was how they manage to pack their chugs and breakdowns with a more roiling, busy structure before hitting all the pinches and squeals, it keeps the record rhythmically entertaining rather than something too dull that you've heard before. That's not to say they're strikingly original, and this does rely somewhat on the hilarious lyrical alcoholic novelty of tracks like "Hair of the Cerberus", "Double Liver Destroyer" and "Moonshine Supremacy" to stand apart, and the fact that this is way more in the 'fun lane' than just the usual gore-soaked paeans to serial killer streaks. A fun full-length debut with lots of 'fuck yes' moments in the churning, choppy rhythmic attack, well suited to tearing up your living room or rehearsal studio while on your latest bender. Team these guys up with Cannabis Corpse for a bill of punishing substance-abuse mosh excess.

Verdict: Win [7.5/10]

https://inebriousincarnate.bandcamp.com/releases

Xentrix - Bury the Pain (2019)

Xentrix was a competent if unexceptional British thrash band that, after two worthwhile albums and a goofy cover of the Ghostbusters theme, quickly fell victim to the 90s, when their subgenre dissolved in the face of grunge and death and black extremtiy. That's not to say that they gave up the fight, but the albums they produced after that were really generic and increasingly dumbed down without the catchier tracks like "Balance of Power" or "Questions" to guide them. Some 17 years after Scourge, they decided to get back together for real, and now we're seeing the fruits of that reunion in Bury the Pain, an album that is probably the best at capturing the style of the debut Shattered Existence and thrusting that into the 21st century with the expected louder and cleaner production values that will help modernize them with the current darlings of the era circa Warbringer, Evile, and their ilk.

There is no argument at all that this is about the purest thrash you're going to find, taking that heavy Bay Area/West Coast influence of the 80s and laying it out straight to the table. Choppy, propulsive riffs that all sound as if they've been paraphrased from the Testament backlog with a heavy helping of Master of Puppets. Solidly structured, with your normal verse/chorus builds but some decent riffs in the bridges, including a couple that have a slightly more clinical feel. The leads are all placed perfectly well but aren't terribly memorable, and the rhythm section here operates in perfect lockstep to provide what is on paper a flawless execution of the material. The biggest change to some might be the new vocalist/guitarist Jay Walsh, but to his credit he actually does a good job in emulating the original Chris Astley who has done various stings with the band. His timbre is slightly deeper, but possesses that same sort of grainy vibe, which also reminds me a hell of a lot of some of Steev Esquivel's stuff in Defiance, a band that is also quite a good comparison to Xentrix in general, as they were both sort of second stringers of the 80s thrash medium that had potential but very little originality...Aussies Mortal Sin also fell into this subset.

On a technical level I think this album is fine, but it does suffer a little bit from sounding uninspired, much like the modernized albums of their countrymen Onslaught. Bury the Pain is more melodic and catchy than some of that group's latest studio outings, but they both lack an element of personality which comes as a symptom of just how straightforward and structured they feel. Don't get me wrong, if you're just looking for an album that gives you the feel of a Shattered Existence, Face of Despair or Practice What You Preach, then Bury the Pain is more than serviceable. I think it's a far superior beast to either Kin or Scourge, but I think the album could really use some more blistering fast sequences or choruses that don't all feel the same. It just passes muster. It's almost like Xentrix is committing to be the best average thrash band they can be, and even if I found myself banging head to "The Red Mist Descends" or "Let the World Burn", they just didn't have the sorts of riff variety and qualities that will make them stand out to me long after. Now that they're back, and have successfully gotten back to the point that they were at in 1989, I'd like to hear a longer reach with more interesting songs that can reach outside the safety zone without sinking into the mediocrity of their post-1990 run.

Verdict: Win [7/10]

https://www.xentrix.co.uk/

Halberd - Remnants of Crumbling Empires (2014)

It would be challenging enough to put together an album the quality of Remnants of Crumbling Empires while standing in the same room as one another; yet Halberd have accomplished this across at least three continents. An international band formed on the forums of the world's largest metal database, whose constituents somehow unified their visions enough to manufacture what is hands down one of the most memorable (and least boring) death/doom hybrids I've heard lately, by adhering to an important philosophy: that the strength of this niche comes chiefly through riffing and atmosphere, rather than the lamentably monotonous drudging and 'oh we're so fuckin' heavy' guitar tone which seems to delude a lot of listeners into thinking every single sludge, doom and drone band sailing across the information highway is somehow genius for stringing along a number of contrived, derived chords at a crawl.

Dynamics. Halberd has them, and the fact that they never settle snugly into just one glacial pace or progression is critical not only to the album's flow, but the impression it leaves upon the audience. Just as much of a pure, late 80s death metal effort as its more prominent mating of styles, the band will break out into resonant tremolo picked patterns whose melodic inclinations reminded me (in a positive way) of the Entombed debut, but overall the churning and grinding of the rhythm guitars feels like it traces its lineage back to British legends Bolt Thrower, Napalm Death, perhaps even older Godflesh if we were to eschew the industrial instrumentation and just go with the riffing alone. Remnants of Crumbling Empires is essentially this cocktail of classic death metal tropes circa England, Finland, Sweden and Florida, shaken and stirred and served from the gut with an infusion of eerie keys that lend the experience an even more ominous, exotic presence like you might remember from a record like Celtic Frost's To Mega Therion. In fact, I've seen the band compared to Tom G. Warrior's latest incarnation Triptykon, but as a rare person who finds that band high on production values but bland on riff quality, I came away from Halberd with more of a Hooded Menace impression, sans the kitschy horror lyrics and titles. Which brings me to the next point...

Theme. Halberd is war metal, not in the genre sense that they sound like Blasphemy or Bestial Warlust, but through the lyrics and atmosphere. The band has a designated lyricist who pens these passionate odes to historical conflicts which are just not often enough thought about in metal music, and this was easily one of my favorite characteristics of the album. The Proskurov Pogroms in the earlier 20th century Ukraine, the Anglo-Zanzibar war of 1896, and the Boer Wars a few years after that, and not just written as a detached social studies lesson, but imbued with impassioned imagery that often puts the listener/reader right into the middle of the fray. This not only gives perspective to the album title, but also provides an entire other dimension of enjoyment that you wouldn't get from just another 'woe is me', vapid inscription of lily-white skinned lost lovers and tombstones that you'd expect from a lot of death/doom bands toeing the (My Dying Bride) line. As a prolific listener of metal, so often inundated with the same topics ad nauseam, I appreciated this, and the music reflects the subject matter well...faster sequences feel like your flesh is being ground up by pre-WWI artillery, and the slower, atmospheric passages feel like wraiths haunting the shadowy afterlife eaves of a battlefield.

The drums are programmed, which might prove an obstacle to purists, but not at all for me, since they keep themselves very busy, pregnant with fills and breaks in any mechanical monotony one might perceive. Vocals are divided into three tent camps: a deeper guttural, a bloodier Carcass-like rasp and then a few rare Warrior 'hoomph' exclamations that help usher in some excitement for a new riff switch. Even better, they don't skimp on the leads and melodies...Remnants if flooded with the things, so at any moment you're thinking some riff might feel a little too pedestrian or predictable, in comes this wild and furious relish. There's even a little bit of structural experimentation, particularly the slow and sparse chugged pacing found chunks of "Ignorance of Morbidity" where they let the cleaner guitars and dissonant ambiance glide alongside the gruesome growls (one of the Godflesh moments I hinted at earlier). The mix of the record isn't particularly grating or raw, but it's not clean and spiffy either, so it ends up with a sort of timeless quality about it that works hand in hand with the musical aesthetics on parade.

Few complaints, honestly...the bass guitars are not exactly obscured, but could certainly be a lot more interesting than they are for the vast majority of the album. I'm guessing there wasn't a devoted bass player when they put this together, and to be fair, a lot of older death metal records which inspired this one weren't bass heavy; yet there were points through the music in which a nice, unique groove could have been established alongside or even counter to the rhythm guitars. Also, I don't know that the longer of the four tracks (12 and 15 minutes respectively) benefited that much from their duration. Halberd compensated by keeping them kinetic, instead of endlessly recycling static chord patterns, but I really thought their style worked best in the 5-8 range, where they just roll over you like a horse-drawn cannon. These are minor issues, though, even more so when you consider the difficulties they must have faced in putting everything together without that physical proximity most bands have. On the whole, this is an excellent debut, never too derivative of any one source, and the leads, lyrics and hellish vitality of the rhythm guitar patterns are all immense. This should not be an unsigned act for very long.

Verdict: Win [8.5/10] (revolution rhymes with annihilation)

https://www.facebook.com/HalberdDoom

Fen & De Arma - Towards the Shores of the End (2011)

Fen are gearing up for a big year in 2011, both with the release of their eagerly anticipated sophomore Epoch and this split with a newish band out of Sweden known as De Arma. If you had the good fortune to experience The Malediction Fields, then you know what to expect from the English upstarts: dense, meandering and melodic black/dark metal with post-whatever overtones, perfect to dream and drift along with. To that extent, De Arma makes for a great companion, as they perform with a similar, evocative atmosphere that differs primarily in the more rasped vocals and traditional streaming of black metal currents in the guitar lines.

Fen have gone even more accessible here than the debut album, and their half of the split consists of four well managed tracks. Moods of both gloom and the radiant sunlight piercing said gloom are conjured through "Soilbound"'s mix of spacious, ringing chords and synthesizer washes, whereas "Ageless Threnody" creates a more belligerent, slower pace, with the same mesmeric, glinting waves of keyboard colliding into the substrate of guitar and thick, anguished vocals. "Towards the Shores of the End" itself is another lengthy piece (all three of these have been 8+ minutes) which uses a bass flow and simple stringing to adapt a more progressive environment, and I found this to the best of these new compositions, with a style hopefully redolent of the forthcoming full-length. The band has also included an acoustic reprise to "Bereft", the final track on The Malediction Fields, and while there's not much to it, it sets up the 'passing of the torch' here rather well...

Which is snapped up De Arma in the more hurried, desperate "Crimson Waters Ebbing", a black metal blasted standard with shaky, clean vocals that soar into the treacherous rasp and a slew of dire, twisting melodies channeled alongside the cleaner guitars and nulling synth line. "Noemata" is perhaps my favorite track on this entire split, 9 minutes of melancholy cast through the same, simple process: roving, spacious guitar lines with driving drums and shining chords. "From Horizon to Oblivion" transforms from a charge of melodic black metal to a more mid-paced, haunting bridge sequence and back again, and I didn't appreciate it so much as their other two pieces, but it certainly fits.

At over 52 minutes, you're basically getting a full-length album, only shared. Fen alone has about 30 minutes of material here, substantial when you consider that they've written about 70 more for Epoch. The production for both bands is suitably vapid and repressed, really giving one the impression that he/she is outdoors witnessing some dour, natural process of decay or the rising of a sun over an unforgiving landscape. The music does its job in sending you to that other place that surrounds you every day, which you often fail to notice. That being said, the compositions are not entirely impressive, and I'd imagine that those outside of the black metal/post-rock (Alcest, Altar of Plagues, Wolves in the Throne Room, etc.) subset of fans will find it far from alluring. Towards the Shores of the End is a good release, showcasing two good bands, but there are no surprises here and nothing that makes you reflect for very long once the music ends. Despite their similarities, the bands would simply be better experienced on their own full-lengths.

Verdict: Win [7/10]

http://www.myspace.com/fenband
http://www.reverbnation.com/dearma

Anathema - We're Here Because We're Here (2010)

In this day, Anathema have so far removed themselves from the epic doom of their waking years that any comparison of the two poles will come up empty. However, they've been painting the trace colors of their current formula for a great many strokes, since The Silent Enigma and Eternity in the mid 90s. Alongside a handful of other acts (Katatonia and Tiamat come to mind) their numerous evolutionary lunges have been largely successful, first courting Gothic metal and now this atmospheric rock era. While some neanderthal within me hangs on to its club and wishes to bludgeon the damn band every time they issue another of these lush, artsy, emotional excursions, I simply cannot bring the bludgeon to bear, because they're just too qualified to ignore.

The vapidly named We're Here Because We're Here does not do much to argue their case, but then, this is the sort of emotionally uplifting piece of work to which such a title is rightfully affixed. Channels of soft and progressive rock fuse through these compositions, almost like a dreamier, unreal alternative to Denmark's fabulous Mew in the escalating "Thin Air" and "A Simple Mistake", the latter trampling somewhat close to the heavier mystique of their past. The delicious mix of Cavanagh and Douglas vocals are so well managed, so evenly distributed that they mesh straight into the instrumentation as if they were a pair of flitting moths across the strings, drum skins and piano keys. It's nearly impossible to find "Angels Walk Among Us" or "Dreaming" anything but soothing, despite the fact that they're the same melodic stock that you'd hear polluting the closing credits of The Hills. Naturally, I'm more predisposed to the measured power of "Everything" or the epic Floydian rhythms of "Universal" and "Hindsight", but there are few tracks that trail below the margin of effectiveness.

Anathema have long been masters of their own destiny, and thus this 8th album benefits from top notch production values that do nothing but honor the compositions, both in their plentiful calms and occasional surges into busier bliss. There's a guest spot on "Angels Walk Among Us" courtesy of Gothic rock crooner Ville Valo (H.I.M.), but thankfully he's reserved here, so don't expect any blathering about fishnets and heartagrams. Of the full hour of music here, there were certainly a few null moments where the momentum of the writing did nothing more than support the framework of tranquil light permeating the album, but I felt more affected by this than the previous albums A Natural Disaster or A Fine Day to Exit, and that's saying something. The doom emigrants might not yet have what it takes to craft truly catchy bits that will thrust them into the mainstream rock portfolio of a Muse or Oasis, but their decidedly subtle approach should win them accolades in the appropriate press. I'll probably forget this album in a short period of time, but I can't deny that it's breathtaking in the interim.

Verdict: Win [7.25/10]

http://www.anathema.ws/

Sabbat - Dreamweaver (Reflections of Our Yesterdays) (1989)

England's Sabbat were a band I was very positive were going to conquer the entire fucking planet, so promising was their scathing 1988 debut History of a Time to Come. But in truth, I had developed a connection to them before this, since they released their 7-inch "Blood for the Blood God" flexi-disc in White Dwarf magazine. The band's amazing ability to offer libations to a fictional war gaming deity created an instant attraction, not to mention the song itself kicked some serious ass, a delicious and atmospheric example of 80s black/thrash metal that displayed infinite writing potential and a malicious attitude so uncanny among other extreme metal acts of its day.

As it turns out, neither of these would prove to be the creative peak for the bastards, because their 1989 sophomore effort Dreamweaver (Reflections of Our Yesterdays) somehow managed to trump them all. A concept based on a psychological study: The Way of Wyrd: Tales of An Anglo-Saxon Sorcerer, it further heralded Sabbat's excursion into paganism and witchcraft, without sacrificing their sadistic mockery of the Church and all its hypocrisy. Such was the wit and intelligence of Martin Walkyier, that in just two albums, his band had transformed into something so much more interesting and unique than what nearly any other thrash band in the period were exploring (Voivod the one possible exception). Heady, brilliant and damn near perfect, Dreamweaver has justifiably become a classic in the field, a veritable whirlwind of riffing fortitude, menacing atmosphere and whip-like, devilish, unique vocals.

Those who had exposure to History of a Time to Come were probably not surprised when the bells, crows, wind and spoken narrative of "The Beginning of the End" intro paved the way for "The Clerical Conspiracy", perhaps the ultimate clarion call to warfare for pagan purists and black magicians in all of thrash, an awakening against the follies of the Church. The guitars were not only rapid, belligerent and darkly majestic, but a comfort to the band's existing fanbase: Sabbat hadn't changed much, they'd merely improved. The pace is immediately broken by "Advent of Insanity" (one of the first songs I ever brought to my guitar instructor to learn!), an acoustic piece set against the creaking of broken hulls on some grim shore, Walkyier proving he can sing with as much skill in a cleaner range as his snarling, a precursor to his more enduring and successful career with Skyclad. This track might not be the thrash we are accustomed to, but it's perfect in every way, a somber violin haunting against the backdrop.

A sad lament for travellers held in the hand of fate,
Your future stands upon the prow, your past drowns in the wake.
What chance is there for sanity, when madness takes the helm,
And steers you on a downward spiral to his lonely realm?

Then it's back to business as usual, within the imminent hostility of the next cut: "Do Dark Horses Dream of Nightmares?" The guitars here are both playful and severe, Walkyier taunting you as if he were suddenly possessed by a host of deviant characters (similar to several tracks on the debut), Sneap's riffing blazing back and forth across the frets like a plague of angels warring across land and sky. "The Best of Enemies" features a killer spoken fix before a carousel of twisted guitars bounce along to Simon Negus' thundering groundwork, melodies soon elevating into the fell glory of a thrashing vanguard. "How Have the Mighty Fallen?", the longest piece on the album, an epic monstrosity that cycles between mid-paced neck breaking volition and blitz bombing acceleration, with an extended bridge breakdown that makes you want to club the nearest cleric or authority into paste, and one of the finer solos Sneap has ever put to record.

"Wildfire" is a personal favorite, launched with a paranoid sheen of broken melody that Walkyier himself leads into the descending guitar cascade over the first half of the double-bass driven verse, all leading to the predictable but amazing chorus at about 1:20. "Mythistory" opens with sauntering bass and a majestic arch of melody similar to what Testament were writing around this time, then progressing through an amazing double harmony over the warlike footwork, and the predictable, final charge into the conflagration of Martin's threatening poetry. The guitar fill at 1:30 is simply genius, scattering the listener with the wind, and riff for riff, it proves one of the most taxing and dynamically satisfying tracks here. Another delicious acoustic piece closes the album, though this time it's an instrumental, "Happy Never After". If you've got the re-issue, though, you'll have a trio of added live tracks: "The Clerical Conspiracy", "Do Dark Horses Dream of Nightmares?", and "The Best of Enemies", all recorded in East Berlin (different tracks than you'll hear on the Doomsday News III: Thrashing East Live compilation, but all appeared on The End of the Beginning video.

There is one thing that holds Dreamweaver back from a perfect score, and that would be the production. It's dense, furious and surely thrashing, but there's something to the depth that makes my ears struggle a bit in places, and I feel like a few of the riffs might have been lent a greater impact without such an impregnable tone. That said, it's a minor complaint against such a wonderful work, a concept of depth and character that still holds up today as one of the most clever and fiendish of all thrash works, with a remarkable similarity to the black metal that has been spilling out of Europe for decades since. With such a firm grasp on songwriting, stage presence and the occult, it's a wonder Sabbat were not able to reap immense success, but this would be the last album with the classic line-up. A few of the members hired on a new singer and forged onward with the moody and horrible Mourning Has Broken (i.e. 'The Big Mistake'), and fortunately we were treated to years of Walkyier's pagan puns in Skyclad, before they too started to suck. But nothing would ever be quite the same...and it's no joke that the British band's first two albums belong in the annals of legend.

Verdict: Epic Win [9.75/10] (your reckless tongue could be the key, you'll be the first if it breaks free)

http://www.sabbat-uk.com/

Satanic Rites - No Use Crying (1987)

By 1987, there is no question that the world was moving on from the style of music performed by a band like Satanic Rites, melodic hard rock & heavy metal with very simplistic, driving guitars, clean as a whistle vocals and keyboard strikes used not unlike the softer rock on the radio. Judging by the slight decline in quality here from their debut Which Way the Wind Blows, it might be that Satanic Rites themselves were moving on, but don't let that dissuade you from tracking this down if you're a collector of NWOBHM, because there are still a number of quality songs here that number among the best they'd ever write.

There was just one lineup change here, the band picking up guitarist a new keyboard player Graham Dyson, and he has a slightly different set of sounds that don't come off as so optimistically proggish like some 70s reject. Then again, that's sort of what I liked about the debut, so it's a trade-off here for a more accessible set of radio ready pads. "Never So Easy" is one of the best of the lot here, with a driving, Priest-like fix in the guitars, and a catchy two-part chorus with some escalating vocals. "Borderline" should also get the blood flowing, as if it were some female alternative to Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger", and "Changling" sounds uncannily similar in places to the title track from the amazing 80s teen comedy Better Off Dead, though the lyrics are obviously covering different ground. Other scorchers include the Scorpions styled power ballad "Here Comes the War" and cruiser "Cast My Spell".

Unfortunately, there are a few notably weaker entries here that hold the album back from the joyous consistency of its predecessor. "Song for Stuart" sounds like a Rick Springfield reject, and the airy keyboard/vocal duo "Pain of Confusion" seems way out of place here, as cheesy as its environs might already feel. It also doesn't start off on its best foot, though "Good Times Now" is not necessarily the worst song here. Like Which Way the Winds Blow, the album has seen a re-issue in 2010 through Cult Metal Classics, with a pair of bonus tracks: demo version of "Never So Easy" and "No Use Crying", so those of you that have been searching forever for the vinyl, or any semblance of the original recording can now acquire it with relative ease. Satanic Rites would not continue beyond this album, which is unfortunate, because it might have been fantastic to hear the band develop into a heavier format in the late 80s/90s. As it stands, this record is a passable alternative for fans of Rock Goddess, Girlschool, Lita Ford and so on.

Verdict: Win [7.25/10]

Satanic Rites - Which Way the Wind Blows (1985)

Female fronted NWOBHM bands were not entirely unheard of, what with Rock Goddess and the more famous Girlschool covering the more blunt edge of the genre, both having some fine records. But Satanic Rites should also be counted among such legends, with a sound that might best be described as a Girlschool with keyboards, giving them a slight 70s/80s prog element that set them apart. The band were also similar to Wichfynde in that they possessed a rather sinister name that didn't have a lot to do with their actual music, which some might consider unfortunate, as the prospect of a devil worshiping female British metal band in the early 80s is pure untapped awesome...

No, Which Way the Wind Blows is not quite so dark as their name or cover art might imply, but it's still a very catchy debut record which could easily have won them more attention alongside the explosive success of, say, a Def Leppard, one of the few bands in the scene to reap enormous rewards due to their accessibility. Satanic Rites were more of a one trick pony in that they wrote mostly steady, mid-paced rockers like "Burn in Hell" with its snappy descending guitar fills, or "Fear of the Night", which would likely thrill fans of Lita Ford, Pat Benatar and so forth, if they could imagine the assertion of future wavy keyboards. Deborah Webster certainly had a comparable voice, which she flexes here across the pumping "Law of the Land", the sailing "Slam the Door", the Jefferson metal Airplane of "Turn Around", and the closing title track, a power ballad with a spacious, bluesy atmosphere that would be perfect for hauling out the old Zippo.

Perhaps at the time of its arrival, the use of these keyboards might have felt slightly out of date or place, but in retrospect, they offer the material a beautiful flight of fancy that has evolved into a certain timelessness, impossible to really capture outside of these old recordings. The guitar riffs were pretty standard fare ala Def Leppard, Judas Priest and Saxon, and not really a highlight of the band without the vocals and keys to accompany them, but all combined, it makes for a magical trip that should have you stalking the used car markets to find that van you always wanted to airbrush, or growing a fucking mustache, which you should already have done. This is no trashy faux glam like the dreadful American counterparts like Vixen; it's fun but hard hitting NWOBHM with effective chorus sections, and since it is now available through a recent re-issue on Cult Metal Classics which includes their "Live to Ride/Hit and Run" single, there is no excuse for the collector to be skipping out on it. Yeah, the cover art is awesome.

Verdict: Win [7.75/10]

Cradle of Filth - Darkly, Darkly, Venus Aversa (2010)

The time has come around for another Cradle of Filth album, and if your head is not already dowsed in a pail of your own vomit, you might be pleasantly surprised to discover that the the band has built upon the strengths of the previous Godspeed on the Devil's Thunder, writing not only their best album since 2000's Midian, but perhaps one of the better of their career. Darkly, Darkly, Venus Aversa is yet another of the band's conceptual works, this time homing in one of what is undoubtedly one of their favorite subjects: poor Lilith, the pissed off first wife of Adam, and perhaps the poster child for brunette animosity towards blonds throughout history? Roll your eyes back in your heads, folks, because as usual, you can disregard the mascara sloshed masses of Hot Topic mummification and simply lose yourself in the bewitching poetry and rapid juggling about of searing axes, intense blasting, symphonic orchestration, harpy calls and Dani Filth's charismatic personality disorder.

Darkly, Darkly Venus Aversa is hardly going to win over any new blood to the Cradle of Filth audience, but if you're enamored of Dusk and Her Embrace, Midian, Damnation and a Day, or Godspeed on the Devil's Thunder, then I can't think of any reason you'd want to skip out on this action, because it's thoroughly entertaining with only the faint flaws of a few stagnant riffing sequences that, while spring-loaded to the fangs with carnal malevolence, simply don't resonate deeply into the memory. It helps that the band have largely stuck to the same lineup here, the one addition being Ashley Jurgemeyer of Abigail Williams on keyboards and backing vocals, who has molded herself in rather well here. The choir and orchestration of this album seems to invoke a more effective trespass than the similar Dimmu Borgir's later opus, if only because there is a measure excitement in the interplay between campy keyboards and thrusting devil riffs, the latter so often engorged with their own thrashing weight.

"The Cult of Venus Aversa" blazes an initial trail through the dark depths of history, through the rank and devouring abyss, where Lilith awaits her revenge on the Man, Woman and Mankind that have spurned her porcelain beauty. The guitars squirm about like a spastic carousel that even Bal-Sagoth would be proud of, while the synths hang on edge like angelic war heralds, and Martin Škaroupka's drumming really begs the question: why would Superman associate himself with such a legion of night fiends? The orchestral segues here, complete with Filth's vicarious fuming and tongue lashing (like a crack-addicted Martin Walkyier) are the usual fluffy haunted house fare, make no mistake about it, but nonetheless a lot of fun, and a number of other pieces here offer equal escape velocity: "Lilith Immaculate", "The Nun with the Astral Habit", and the hammering "Harlot on a Pedestal". Of course, the delightful misogyny would hardly be served by a lack of dynamics, so there are some slower rocking, moodier pieces here like "Forgive Me Father (I Have Sinned)" and the pompous "Spawn of Love and War" maintaining balance.

Act now and you'll get a bonus disc with four tracks that are nearly the rival of those on the full-length, plus a video for "Forgive Me Father (I Have Sinned)", only adding to the overall value of the release, and I particularly enjoyed the hilariously apt "Mistress from the Sucking Pit". As usual, Cradle of Filth have put an enormous amount of effort into the finishing touches: the cover art is fairly typical of their releases, but still gorgeous. The lyrics are well plotted, interesting, 'colorful' and angry, par for the course for Daniel Lloyd Davey, the William Wordsworth of the black metal mainstream. The production is also well managed across the varied components, without ever sounding too glitzy or dumbfounded. The final factor is really you and I. Do we enjoy this notorious band, despite the political pratfall they've received by the underground? Cradle of Filth are good at what they do, but they could certainly do better than this, and have done so in the past. Darkly, Darkly Venus Aversa just has the advantage of being a damned solid effort with numerous moments of bitch slapping, envious joy from the queen of demons herself.

Verdict: Win [7.75/10] (the worm was turning)

http://www.cradleoffilth.com/

Tank - War Machine (2010)

The prospect of a Tank without founding bassist/vocalist Algy Ward is a frightening one. I simply did not want to believe it could ever happen. Sure, he's perhaps not as notorious or famous a frontman as Lemmy Kilminster or Biff Byford, but nonetheless, his vocals were the heart of what made this band tick through so many of their good albums. Nevertheless, War Machine has arrived, and with it a new era for the band. The split may or may not have been amicable, Ward busy writing an autobiography that covers his time in not only Tank, but punk legends The Damned, and so forth. I can only imagine how hard a decision it must have been to even continue the band in such a condition, but they have chosen to do so, and the least I could do is not be a fuckwit and take this for what it is.

Of course, this leaves only drummer Mark Brabbs as the original member, returning a few years ago after Graeme Callan unfortunately passed away. Brabbs himself has not been within the fold since the first three albums ('82-83'), and he reunites with Mick Tucker and Cliff Evans, who both joined the band in the 80s as well as the 1997 reunion (which this record is the culmination of). To fill out the new roster, Tank has hired on bassist Chris Dale of once potent rockers Atom Seed (also the Skunkworks era solo band of Bruce Dickinson), and none other than Doogie bloody White of Rainbow, Yngwie J. Malmsteen, and Pink Cream 69 fame. Yes, folks, the boots of Algy Ward are massive, and nigh impossible to fill. So the band might as well get a god damned veteran howler in his spot, and as White proves here, he's as good as any, with a style pretty close to Biff Byford of Saxon (it's almost eerie at times).

In fact, I'd write off the entire album as a Saxon-a-like, but for the simple fact that Tank themselves have already been crafting their career in this mold for 30 years themselves, and the similarities are more of a cross-section than a derivation. If you're expecting the Motörhead fury of Filth Hounds of Hades, you will probably be once again disappointed (as you've been no doubt been with every Tank record since 1982). This is far more akin to the aired out, more mellow nature of a This Means War or Honour & Blood, and I'm not complaining. The band's grasp for huge, classic riffs and earned melodies still rides to the forefront, made clear as early in the track list as opener "Judgement Day" or the cruise mode of "Phoenix Rising" and "The Last Laugh". There are some softer moments here like the ballad "After All", which is somewhat forgettable but not a distraction. My personal choices include the closer "My Insanity" with a superb mix of melodic radio metal and thundering riffs, and the title track, 7 minutes of slow and sure metal that recalls their 1983-87 period in vivid gray.

War Machine seems a fairly refined addition to the band's legacy, best targeted towards the mid to late 80s Tank fanbase, or those NWOBHM diehards that don't mind their metal huge, slow and bearing the classic apparel of a Saxon, Blitzkrieg, Def Leppard or Praying Mantis. The album is rarely very fast, so those with attention spans for only the blitzing speed of a Venom, or the pounding, relentless grit of Motörhead might find this record too far gone to an age of arena resonance, where the power of simple chords and soaring vocals ruled the roost. Even without Ward aboard, the band still honor themselves and stay true to the metal they forged for most of their career, instantly dissolving that 8-year gulf since the previous album Still at War; and though they were never exactly on the A-list to begin with, there is something to be said for this purity in the face of maturity and oblivion.

Verdict: Win [7.25/10]

http://www.tankfilthhounds.net/