A Splice of Life

FACTRIX - Scheintot (1981)

As Thee Olde Adage goes, "if influence translated into record sales," (see: Underground, Velvet) San Francisco-based industrial pioneers woulda raked in some 'o the ducats pocketed by the likes of Throbbing Gristle and Cabaret Voltaire. As it is, they barely had a pot to piss in during their brief existence that lasted from 1978-83. Comprised of Bond Bergland, Cole Palme, and Joseph T. Jacobs, all of whom had done time in thee equally underrated avant-garde electronic outfit, Patrick Miller's Minimal Man, they would leave us with "Scheintot" and "California Babylon," a collaborative effort with Monte Cazazza, before vanishing forever.

Mebbe Ted Kaczynski, in his deluded, luddite way had a point-- technology does suck. With their manipulated tape loops, "found sounds" (tea kettles, pennywhistles and the like are credited as instruments), primitive synth-thud and buzzing moogs, Factrix still sound more groundbreaking--- but more importantly-- dangerous, than what passes for industrial music these daze. For example, "Ballad of the Grim Rider" (whatta title!) has an ethereal, yet churning mix of analog electronics and scraping, treated guitar that every one of those pathetic, digitized Marilyn Moronites should be striving for (alas, that would require far too much creativity on their parts, so I'll shaddap). And the vocals! Hazy, buried in the mix yet perfectly intelligible, they bring to mind the utterances of a disillusioned ghost railing against the stupidity of mortals... they ooze outta the din unlike any LP I've yet heard.

This is music best listened to when regaining yer bearings after a Lost Weekend. There's bottles of booze you don't remember drinking littering the living room, the ashtrays are overflowing and smoldering; mebbe even a few people sleeping on the floor whose names escape you... yet paradoxically, "Scheintot," in its otherworldly way, provides a psychological anchor to Terra Firma.

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Ugggh!! Heeeey!

VARIOUS - In Memory of Celtic Frost (1996)

As Ye shouldst know by now, tribute/covers albums are dicey propositions at best. You can count yer damn self lucky if there happens to be one or two heartfelt renderings of tuneage ya hold dear. Worst of all, there's always at least some jackoff hipster band that decides to be all "clever" and do a disrespectful "interpretation." Y'know, those oh-so yawn-inducing "lounge arrangements" and the like. But believe me when I tell you that this here collection actually fucking works. The bands involved have undoubted passion for the material, and they've obviously been heavily inspired by Frost & Hellhammer-- and that's coming from someone who thinks of Tom G. & Co's early works as a listening experience bordering on religion. For over two decades now... fuck I'm old.


Thee Culprits:


1 Morgion - Innocence and Wrath / The Usurper
2 Enslaved - Procreation (of the Wicked)
3 Slaughter - Dethroned Emperor
4 Mayhem - Visual Aggression
5 Inner Thought - Morbid Tales
6 Sadistic Intent - Return to the Eve
7 Cianide - Dawn of Meggido
8 Divine Eve - Visions of Mortality
9 Grave - Mesmerized
10 Apollyon Sun - Babylon Fell
11 Opeth - Circle of the Tyrants
12 Closedown - Danse Macabre

Note: Be sure to stick around for thee two hidden bonuses-- Wimp...er...Emperor's take on "Massacra," and all-femme sludge outfit 13's version of "Triumph of Death."

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Leady to Lock 'n' Loll?

LOUDNESS - Disillusion (1984)

So here's the scene: it's 1985 (???, the drugs are finally catching up with me), and three scraggly, denim-attired teenagers are off to see their then-heroes, Thee Crüe, rip into an hour or so of their dime store brand of costumed rebellion. They were completely ignorant of thee Nipponese opening act-- an outfit by thee handle of "Loudness" (they were also unaware of thee utter suckage of Motley's "Theater of Pain," and their fruity tour garb, but I digress). Imagine our surprise when a pint-sized dude jumped outta thee darkness, with hair that made him stand at least six feet tall (you do the math), screaming, "Harrrrrrro, Muddddaaas!!" We didn't know whether to laugh or pump or fists--- that is, until they launched into a little number that went something like, "Locky Loll Clazy Nights," then we wuz hooked. Turns out it was called "Crazy Nights," and appeared on their semi-hit LP, "Thunder in the East," as fine a slab of sugar-coated pop metal as has ever been released-- but far from their magnum opus. That title belongs to 1984's "Disillusion."

The band's first few records (The Birthday Eve, Devil's Soldiers, Law of Devil's Land) were sung entirely in Japanese, and had kinda patchy tunesmithing, but this is where they got everything right. Check out "Butterfly"-- the same sorta mini-epic Rush had perfected on "A Farewell to Kings," complete with chiming, Lifeson-esque arpeggios and over-miked (and some would say, "overused") toms... yet it has an atmosphere that still sounds so completely alien... brilliant! Particularly exhilarating is thee inhuman shredding of Fret Wizard Arkira Takasaki-- the man sounds like he's got ten fingers on each hand! He also has a knack for knowing when to lay back before he dumps a few tons of complex riffage on your sorry ass. His storming style is what adds (much) needed color and urgency to lazy, KISS-style arena anthems like "Crazy Doctor" and "Satisfaction Guaranteed," morphing what woulda been harmless throwaways into sublime examples of classic eighties metal-- and make no mistake: the material on this beast is 100% metal, no hairspray required (or wanted).

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G.A.T.E.S. - Total Death (2005)

Usually about the time I find myself getting sick to death of all things Japan, a blistering combo like G.A.T.E.S. comes along and reaffirms their status as perhaps thee Greatest Musical Nation on Thee Planet. Made up of two ex-members of Church of Misery and Coffins (Vokillist Yoshiakki Negishi and bassist Tatsu Mikami), as well as axeman Masayasu Futatsugi (Life, Antiauthorize) and sticksman Fukawa (also of Sonic Flower, Bleed for Pain & Desperate Corruption), they play a bitchin' brand of Motörhrash not unlike a beefier Death Side. "Total Death" compiles everything they had recorded up to its release, including a devastating version of thee Mighty 'head's "Overkill."

Need I say more?

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D,O... Fuckin' A! (AKA Dearly Belated)

BLOODROCK - BLOODROCK 2 (1970)
MANILLA ROAD - The Courts of Chaos (1990)

Ok, this is thee Halloween post that never was. My modem decided to be a fickle little bitch on me last week, and although I thought about dumping this fucker outright, the concept was too damn sound to jettison... so here goes: Fort Worth, Texas' Bloodrock was one o' them late 60's combos that straddled the line between patchouli-stankin' *ahem* Flower Power Phurry Phreakery and thee burgeoning thud that would evole into heavy metal. Bearing more than a slight resemblance to Deep Purple, complete with John Lordian Hammond Organ high in the mix, their eponymous 1969 debut LP was a fine example of slightly-delic heavy rock that only lacked a signature tune to set it apart from the thousands of other bands mining the same turf. A quagmire that would be remedied the following year on "Bloodrock 2."

"D.O.A." is the musical equivalent to grindhouse guinol like "Blood Feast" and "Texas Chainsaw Massacre." I remember being a tyke camping with my hippie parents and their cadre of past-due flower children, and it seemed whenever I was stuffed into a tent for sleepytime, "D.O.A" would come on the radio for no other reason than to freak. Me. The. Fuck. Out. Underscored by eerie keys imitating ambulance sirens, it is thee tale of an aircrash victim recalling his final moments in lurid detail-- at least by 70's standards. In a way, it's an almost unknowable song-- the chorus states: "we were flying low... and hit something in the air." What the fuck?! Something? Yet it is this macabre mystique that makes it so endearing. Along with Manson and Altamont, it is yet another fork in the idealism of the 60's.

It is so damn good in fact, that Wichita, Kansas' ultimate purveyors of epic metal, Manilla Road would do a faithful cover 20 years later. Fittingly so, as "Courts of Chaos" is an odd entry in their catalog. To whit:

1. Randy Foxe, one of metal's top 2-3 drummers, plays guitar on it, replaced by a drum machine.
2. It is chock fulla keyboards, something inconceivable at the time.
3. It contains only one of their trademark 7-minute plus behemoths ("The Books of Skelos").

Despite what written down sounds like a recipe for disaster, "Courts" is still a solid ball of metal. The synths are a bit obtrusive at times, but never enough to diminish the power of Mark "The Shark" Shelton's impeccable riffing and hardy, untrained yowl. And, as I've tried to make clear--- you can never have enough versions of "D.O.A."

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Think I'm Psycho, Doncha?

BEASTS OF BOURBON - The Axeman's Jazz (1984)

So, to save myself some pissing around, here's what I said about these uncouth bastards way back here (it's for "Sour Mash" for those who give a shit):

A band where words fail me to describe their influence on my blackened soul. Hell, I wouldn’t be a fraction of the unrepentant scumbag and nuisance to assorted government apparatus without their guidance. Formed in Sydney, Oz as a hobby band by Kim Salmon (guitars) and Boris Sudjovic (bass) of the Scientists, James Baker of the Hoodoo Gurus (drums), Spencer Jones (guitars) of the Johnnys and future throat of the Cruel Sea, Tex Perkins, they cut their debut, “The Axeman’s Jazz” in a single afternoon in 1983.

And I wouldn't change a word of it. Though Tex Perkins hadn't mastered the unmistakable bellow we've come to know and worship on "Axeman," he's still pretty damn convincing donning the persona of a man who seemingly murders everyone he meets (in first person) on thee eerie yet hilarious cover of Leon Payne's "Psycho," and band original "Love & Death" where he spins a similar yarn in third person. And that's to say nothing of Kim Salmon's countrified yet punky guit-mauling that conjures a surreality not heard before or since-- Charley Patton's malevolent phantom inhabiting the body of John Morton (Electric Eels) perhaps?

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Behind the Broken Door

NIKKI SUDDEN - Red Brocade (1999)

From the Swell Maps to the Jacobites to his lengthy solo discography, Nikki Sudden was one of the few artists who could invoke the spirit of Johnny Thunders as easily as Gram Parsons-- sometimes within the same song. Even when engaging in some krautrock-style noisemongering, the astute listener can't help but detect a sense of that bleak, "High Lonesome" sound-- an emotionally fragile man with his heart on his sleeve-- proving that the aforementioned term shouldn't belong solely to C&W artists. Sadly, the majority of his recordings were released almost exclusively by fly-by-night nowhere labels, guaranteeing much of it would never stay in print for a decent amount of time.

Red Brocade is the kinda R&R record they simply don't make no more kats 'n' kitties-- simultaneously snotty and poignant; as shimmering as it ominous. It runs the gamut of styles-- countrified ballads ("Farewell, My Darling," which unfortunately includes fifth-tier Brian Wilson wannabe Jeff Tweedy; the elegantly wasted "Scarred Again"), Stonesy shuffles ("Countess," where Sudden is bold enough to lift the pseudo-disco bass line from "Miss You" to startling effect; "Tie You Up" where the narrator sounds more like a man at the end of his rope emotionally, not a dabbler in S&M), even a little pinky toe-dippin' into baroque pop (the positively gorgeous "Broken Door," where Nikki drops an aside to his lover in his speaking voice that is pure heartbreak). The bottom line is that (and yes I realize I harp on & on about far too often, but fuck it) in an age where ironic posturing and smirking insincerity win the critics' accolades, and R&R has been reduced to yet another way to sell hamburgers and shitty cars, I can't help but get a lump in my throat when I listen to True Believers like Nikki Sudden... ain't nobody gonna replace you, man.

RIP Nicolas "Nikki Sudden" Godfrey
July 19, 1956 - March 26, 2006

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