Sunday, December 7, 2014

Best Death Metal Albums

Beyond Essential
Atheist- Unquestionable Presence
Cryptopsy- None So Vile
Deicide- Deicide
Deicide- Legion
Morbid Angel- Altars of Madness
Morbid Angel- Blessed are the Sick
Repulsion- Horrified

Atheist- Piece of Time
Carcass- Symphonies of Sickness
Cryptopsy- Blasphemy Made Flesh
Death- Leprosy
Death- Spiritual Healing
Death- Sound of Perseverance
Demilich- Nespithe
Entombed- Left Hand Path
Gorguts- Obscura
Immolation- Here in After
Immolation- Dawn of Possession
Massacra- Final Holocaust
Morbid Angel- Covenant
Possessed- Seven Churches
Sepultura- Beneath the Remains
Sepultura- Schizophrenia

Amorphis- The Karelian Isthmus
Bolt Thrower- Warmaster
Bolt Thrower- For Victory
Carcass- Necroticism: Descanting the Insalubrious
Death- Scream Bloody Gore
Death- Symbolic
Dismember- Like an Ever Flowing Stream
Entombed- Clandestine
Immolation- Failures for Gods
Incantation- Onward to Golgotha
Incantation- Mortal Throne of Nazarene
Merciless- The Awakening
Necrophobic- Nocturnal Silence
Nocturnus- The Key
Sepultura- Bestial Devastation
Sinister- Diabolical Summoning
Suffocation- Breeding the Spawn
Therion- Beyond Sanctorum
Therion- Of Darkness

If You Have the Time
Adramalech- Pure Blood Doom
Asphyx- The Rack
At the Gates- The Red in the Sky is Ours
Autopsy- Severed Survival
Bolt Thrower- IVth Crusade
Carnage- Dark Recollections
Death- Human
Gorement- The Ending Quest
Demigod- Slumber of Sullen Eyes
God Macabre- The Winterlong
Obituary- Slowly We Rot
Sepultura- Arise
Sepultura- Morbid Visions

Not So Into
Atheist- Elements
Bolt Thrower- Realm of Chaos
Cannibal Corpse- Tomb of the Mutilated
Carcass- Heartwork
Death- Individual Thought Patterns
Grave- Into the Grave
Massacre- From Beyond
Obituary- Cause of Death
Unleashed- Where No Life Dwells

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

In the Nightside Eclipse

We have to be careful not to believe what black metal tells us about itself. There are two competing stories. On one hand, the teenage rock 'n roll rebellion of Venom and early Mayhem, on the other hand the *ressentiment* of pretentious underground Internet Recording Artists burrowing further into their own insecure lack of self-definition. One side assures us that black metal is about church-burning, leather-wearing, and goat fornicating, while the other side strains to intellectualize its emo roots, painfully obscuring any vitality leftover from metal and turning into its own caption on itself.

One of the most sophisticated black metal bands was Emperor. Elitist, literary, highly proficient musicians, their album At the Nightside Eclipse stands as a high-water mark for what the genre might achieve in terms of utter seriousness. At the same time, the album (its art especially) verges on fantasy metal in some points. The influence of Emperor is just as much the dousing of everything in keyboards and a renewed interest in the narrative employment of orcs.

As great as Emperor were, and as gripping as their presentation is, the later development of Emperor into pony-tail wearing prog musicians and goths suggests that something was wrong even early on. Very likely it was the feeling that they had something to do with classical music, which is true and interesting but also misguided. Another culprit might have been their feeling that they were philosophers of some kind, which is always better left suggestively for others to pick up on, and ought never to lead to the sort of concept albums Emperor later made.

So what might Emperor, and the kind of black metal they stand for, have been really about? (if not about drinking flaming goat semen and spitting it on the Virgin Mary, for instance?)


Let me transport you for a moment to the plains of Troy, and the songs of Homer. The poet calls up before us the most heinous, unrelenting violence, one shattered ribcage after another. Great men heave giant stones at one another, and hack obstructing limbs away from the armor they rip from corpses. All this slaughter is devoid of piety or remorse or even the apology of necessity. It is hard work but it is man's work, and the war stretches on, one suspects, because there is nothing outside of this hell. (And in the Iliad, we never leave Troy or see how one could.)

Here there is no mysticism or frostwinds or Viking raids or KISS-style face paint, but you still have everything essential to black metal. Namely this, the utter horror and violence of existence--an unceasing march to death, shortened by constant warfare and the mercilessness both of man and nature--is asserted as itself meaningful.

What separates the Iliad from the nonsensical chaos of an all-consuming violence is only grasping that given, absolutely un-removeable fact (of death) and turning it into something willed, mastered, wished-for. Life is a long (or not so long) pointless agony, however it is dressed up: no different from the meaningless existence and death of a bunch of benighted monkeys or rodents. The Iliad shows us this SAME dreadful insanity, but as by a reversal of perspective, as though it were our own volition and desire.

One stupid thing that is written about Homer is that, by turning this painful conflict INTO art, the poet "immortalizes" the heroes. No no no no. There is not some pointless thing, the Trojan war, which BECOMES art (is set down in art). The Trojan war already is the immortalization, the purpose, the accomplishment. The war is its own meaning. But nothing has been ADDED to existence other than SEEING it as having this meaning.


To return to black metal. It is easy to get caught up in Emperor's lyrics about "the infinity of thought," the ageless generations of black wizards, etc. But what do we really know about this arcane wisdom that they summon? Only that the agents of darkness cry out in the sorrow of seeking knowledge, of isolation, and that they wield unconquerable swords, they are eternally wrathful, that they wish for a union with the mystery of a hateful nature, and that they will wreak woe upon all in the name of the Lord of Strife.

But that is all on THIS side of the "mysteries" and "transcendence" of a religious (Satanic) view of the world. What Emperor are ABOUT is bringing "awe and derision" into the world, establishing a limitless empire of pain, and so forth. And the soul behind all of this only EVOKES the dark meaning of what is essentially a rapacious horde of unchristian, unapologetic tyrannical barbarian conquest. The "values" evoked are not values *aimed at* in a subsequent rule, but are just already the values of slaughtering and defiling.

My point is, THIS is evoked as meaningful, profound, mystical, eternal, etc.

"We will grant Him their pain. He will grant us His flame. In flesh and blood. He will arise to deliver the key. As the armours black robe slides across the landscape, we see the land of wisdom, strength and pure evil... Darkness, frost, hate... the throne will be ours.

May the wolves start to howl again. May the age of darkness arise. May we touch the black flames of the past again... and forevermore."


It is easy, then, to draw the contrast with death metal, which is philosophically a 180 from black metal. A band like Carcass revel precisely in the meaninglessness of gore and anatomical destruction. Their lyrics are a nihilistic joke. But you also see that the answer has nothing to do with "evil" or "darkness." As Nietzsche teaches us, evil is something to go beyond..., but this is something you can't tell teenagers.

Friday, November 11, 2011

King Diamond "The Puppet Master" (2003)

The Puppet Master, the eleventh album by Danish metallers King Diamond, labors under several disadvantages. First, the title is almost identical to the most famous metal album of the 1980s, Metallica's Master of Puppets. Second, it is a concept album whose concept can best be described as "Pinocchio in reverse." Third, how many groups still have any fuel in the tank after ten albums?

For the uninitiated, King Diamond is the solo project of Mercyful Fate's lead singer, the corpse-painted rapscallion who introduced himself to the world by releasing--a Christmas single. The (now) dozen King Diamond albums are permanently locked in 1980s Euro-metal, a kind of aural Hot Tub Time Machine. It's this strange world where Pantera never existed.

So, on one hand, the technology here is not exactly state of the art. If you've heard Abigail or Don't Break the Oath, the eerie banshee wail and predilection for baroque touches are the same. No, King Diamond still doesn't understand "narrative" in music. Someone get this man a copy of Springsteen's "Atlantic City"! And it's so bafflingly uncool as metal that the ridiculous puppet love story will have most listeners recalling this:

For all that, this is one of my favorite metal albums. For one thing, King Diamond never blinks. There's no ironic chink in the entire presentation. For another, the guitar solos are stunning. Given that there isn't much room for "texture" in what is essentially musical theater, the bursts of lead guitar are never filler. For contrast, see Kirk Hammett's tragic addiction to the wah-pedal, or any recent Slayer album. Andy LaRoque never phones it in.

I suspect this is a hard sell, and to fans of extreme death metal and normal people alike, this will appear like "Toy Story 3: In a Metal Mood." Maybe so. It's certainly not what I would play if I was meeting my girlfriend's parents for the first time. But it is also so eccentric, so catchy, so self-convinced, that it is not something you will want to keep to yourself. Listening party?

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Megadeth- Killing is My Business ... and Business is Good! (1985)

Was there ever a cooler band than the early Megadeth? Featuring the ultimate regressive-personality alcoholic as mumbly lead singer, plus artwork transparently ripped off from Iron Maiden, these disorientingly and over-abundantly talented musicians never seemed remotely comfortable making this blazingly fast, coke-fueled thrash metal. The whole project is itchy and nervous, motivated by a thwarted megalomania (and coke).

If Metallica is a studied synthesis of NWOBHM and hardcore punk, Megadeth is the absurdly technical and paranoid rejoinder, drawing on jazz fusion while paradoxically playing much faster and more aggressively for all that. It is the quintessential music by and for assholes.

Let's not forget that only one band can ever be called "MEGADETH." How cool is that?

Anyways, this is the first album from these maniacs. It isn't at all "stadium-friendly" or anthemic. It is literally just a series of shredding guitar solos and churning riffs, played as fast as possible. The vocals are a disaster, the Nancy Sinatra cover is almost the longest song (not a good sign!), and the sound is kind of bad... but the riffs never stop coming, and the rhythm section is startlingly fluid and prominent.

At times the music can be quite opaque, especially as Mustaine's vocals show little interest in melody... and then within the same song (as on "Killing is My Business" and "Looking Down the Cross") they will burst into catchy daylight before disappearing again.

Most of all, this record feels rushed in every way. Not only played fast, but composed hurriedly, recorded virtually live, and with album artwork improvised by the record label. In the end, that is both its defining character and charm, and a liability. (It's obviously not a classic on par with the Metallica masterworks, which are much more deliberate and self-conscious.) I don't normally curse on this blog, but the main effect of Megadeth's debut is that it is a "nasty little fucker."

Rating: 4/5 (****)

Best songs: "Rattlehead," "Chosen Ones," "Mechanix"

Friday, April 15, 2011

Burzum- Fallen (2011)

The other day, my friend was describing a James Baldwin novel to me. I had asked whether it was great or not, but instead he decided to present the book to me as a Frankenstein's monster of dismembered parts. He told me exuberantly how this novel incorporated the subject matter from one of Baldwin's other books, the style from another, the politics from another. To me, of course, this paint-by-numbers critical approach to an artist's oeuvre leaves completely unanswered the question of whether a work is worthwhile. Instead we find ourselves in an infinite regress: as though what made Go Tell It On The Mountain a great work was its "sharing elements with Go Tell It On the Mountain" (!)

Varg Vikernes describes Burzum's new album as: "…a cross between Belus and something new, inspired more by the debut album and Det Som Engang Var than by Hvis Lyset Tar Oss or Filosofem."

We have all seen parodies of this artistic logic in any satire of how Hollywood works. A producer is pitching his new sitcom/movie to an executive: "It's a cross between Barbarella and Laverne & Shirley! It's a cross between Spiderman and Meet The Parents!"

The idea in black metal, evidently, is that there is a niche audience who, if they can describe an album in certain adjectives (or, *sigh*... regrettable angsty prose-poems) will be happy... regardless of whether an album's riffs are catchy, or whether the songs are boring. It is another version of the sex-starved teenager who will swear that ANY nude photo of a blonde with fake boobs is "so fucking hot" so as to demonstrate just how straight and virile he is. So, a black metal song can be as bad as you please, but as long as it "sounds like an outtake from Filosofem..." the woeful spirit signs off on it for being "gloriously mournful." This is just to sign away one's critical faculties over to the authority of the sticker on the cover of the CD.

All we learn from any of these examples is that it will always be possible to cynically peddle one's wares to an audience that demands only that something fit a certain Venn diagram of already-known styles and sounds. 1000 monkeys typing at a 1000 typewriters for 1000 years may not be able to produce the works of Shakespeare... but they definitely COULD write "a cross between Othello and Macbeth"--provided this pollination were all that was wanted. To certain metal fans, undoubtedly no more is expected.

As with the teenager described above, it is stupid to argue about the merits of this album. If anyone tells you that it is anything BUT corny, repetitive, pretentious, unmemorable, lightweight, and sort-of irritating, that person is just playing dress-up with their listening experience. This album is garbage.

If said moron insists, "No, it sounds like Filosofem... but with fast parts!" Well... I don't disagree. The only difference is that it sucks. That's a difference that matters to me...

Friday, March 11, 2011

At the Gates- The Red in the Sky is Ours (1992)

I know this post is about 10 years late--i.e. 10 years after "sounds like At the Gates" was a ubiquitous descriptor for every American emo and hardcore and metal act, when every bearded, drug-dealing bike-messaging cruster was raising their fists in the metal sky to the Slaughter of the Soul album... even a few years after their cash-in reunion in 2007. (At which time knuckle-dragging "metal fans" among my acquaintance were shocked at my lack of enthusiasm: "Y-y-you don't... g-g-uh.. like Slaughter of the Soul? But it fucking slaaaays, man!")

I confess, though, that Slaughter of the Soul made a huge impression on me when I first heard it in 2001: they made it sound so easy! And the narrative going around at that time was that, yes, At the Gates had other albums, but they were basically a prelude to this, their masterpiece. One listen to their earlier music confirmed this: uncatchy, full of diverging parts, badly-recorded, and lacking everything that made Slaughter of the Soul such a landmark: twin-guitar hooks, compelling choruses and audible lyrics, a style combining basically Iron Maiden and Slayer... Of course, you could squint and imagine that the earlier riffs were somehow aiming at the same thing, picking out a few seconds in a 6 minute song that "foreshadowed their later genius."

How wrong-headed this all seems now! Nothing has been more driven into the ground than the Slaughter of the Soul sound--its worst incarnation being in Victory Records screamo and metalcore appropriations--so that perhaps even someday we shall want to revisit *this* album as deserving and merely overshadowed by its influence. Still, it is a ludicrously front-loaded and monotonous record, far too easy to overplay.

On the other hand, At the Gates' debut, under consideration here, is positively fecund with inspiration, overflowing with cool parts, labyrinthine structures, and a precocious grasp of "technicality" in death metal (this was 1992!), while managing to avoid almost every trap of "sweetness" and pandering to be found in, say, Swedish compatriots Dark Tranquility.

Still, this record's reputation is in need of some burnishing! Here is the review:

Here's what Sweden's At the Gates told us with their first album, The Red in the Sky is Ours: they were from, er, Sweden; they were very upset about something -- probably their parents; they played extremely fast and furious; and they pretty much sounded like a "baby" Entombed, offering little in the way of innovation to the booming Gothenburg death metal scene. And that's pretty much it. Later on, their contributions would rank among the best death metal around, but, for now, only the title track and latter-day concert favorite "Kingdom Gone" show any inspiration. Everything else will barely interest even hardcore fans.

My response:
  • Doesn't sound like Entombed (except maybe the one song cited).
  • Erroneously perceived as a "entry" in "the booming Gothenburg scene," where in fact the album precedes the debuts of Dark Tranquility and In Flames.
  • Even assuming by "Gothenburg scene," the reviewer means unrelated bands such as Dismember, Entombed, Carnage, Grave, etc., At the Gates here are light years beyond those bands (still largely tied to a Discharge/crust influence); the ideas here still sound inventive and eccentric, not tied to an early 90s "scene."
  • If anything, one can read here a hidden influence on Norsecore, especially on Dark Funeral.
  • In any case, this is the worst kind of historical interpretation, deeming the album irrelevant only because it does not fall in with the development of the reviewer's favorite style.
The Red in the Sky is Ours, far from being "melodic" in the sense of ring-tone melodies and warmed-over Iron Maiden influence, is melodic in the true sense: the songs unfold according to a melodic understanding or logic. Instead of being a simple phrase or hook, melody here is the entire song's working-through. Add to this a bubbling technicality, a permeating but eccentric emotionality (so far from U.S. death metal's tone!), the occasional crazy use of a violin, and you have the exact opposite of Slaughter of the Soul: a record almost so overcharged with ideas as to pay off almost unlimited relistening.

My only criticism of this record, which is the flipside to its virtues: it is incredibly dense, and almost lacking dynamics. Many of the songs have the same feel.

Here is an album you can really get lost in; on the other hand, one almost has to do so, to get the most out of its depths. The surface is not pretty or easily approached.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

The Crown- Deathrace King (2000)

Here is a problem with my aesthetic: I am consistently criticizing music that is just monotone grinding away at a style, or the lifeless technical reproduction of some cultural flavor or historical "sound,"-- and valorizing music that "jumps out of the speakers" at you, that is immediately catchy and memorable. In extreme metal, this is a convenient way to edit out and expel 90% of grinding, monotonous, merely extreme albums: death or black metal that never rises above the teenage thrill of grossing out parents and grunting. It is also a good way to approach power pop or hardcore punk: the tendency of this music to merely go through the motions without even crossing into consciousness always = total failure.

What then to do with a band like The Crown? Because the Crown are catchy, memorable, replete with moments that jump out at you, etc. So, why aren't they my favorite band? (The short answer is that I don't love Faith Hill or Sting, either, who are obviously more poppy and catchy by any standard than, say, Cryptopsy. But people sometimes forget that I'm not an idiot and that this ("poppiness") might not be what I mean.)

This can only be done by contrasts. Let's take a song I love: "Deicide" by Deicide.

A lot of this "technology" seems clunky in 2011; the different voices, the over-the-top intro, the rapped breakdown, the "I am evil" lyrics, the utterly predictable set-up for the guitar solo, the divebombs in the solo itself, the somewhat ponderous tempo...

But to say all of these things about how dated "Deicide" sounds, if we agree that it's a great song, is the same as to say, "Today, we could never get away with being so obvious." I get the same feeling when I think of Beethoven's 5th Symphony and its famous opening. But this assumes--what is obviously false--that everyone today is on the verge of writing the 5th Symphony...and is only being stopped by their tastefulness! The same thing can be said about Deicide: these dated techniques can be rephrased as Deicide's "drama," their embrace of the absurd, pompous, and theatrical. Because, damn it! the band is named Deicide! If ever there was an aesthetic motivation for this kind of flare, does one not find it in Milton's Satan? Is "tasteful restraint" the name of the game here? Deicide know that it is not. It is not that this acknowledged super-classic is (for some technical reason) sonically inimitable; it is rather that death metal has become scared of its own shadow. A failing of spirit!

Anyways! "Deicide" is not, for all that, a 3-chord, verse-chorus-verse pop song. Rather than being repetitive, it has a narrative unity ("what happens next?"); there are no hints of the "melodic death metal"--it is resolutely ugly music. The immediacy, the catchiness, and the richness of the song are in fact particular to metal: it gets you headbanging. I can't say it any other way. But then the structure is nimble, instead of "ritualistic" or whatever people use to describe boring metal nowadays. Deicide doesn't stick around to milk the hooks, or drill them into your head: every bit of the song is incorporated into its "push." This won't be everyone's idea of "catchy," since it isn't tuneful, but on the other hand, this headbanging catchiness is what death metal does best, what other music only stumbles upon by accident and can't hold onto.

So, The Crown. Like Witchery, or Nifelheim, (and, to be fair, all-time genius Bathory), this is verse-chorus-verse-chorus extreme metal. There are plenty of rockin', consonant guitar solos and trills, big emotional moments (like I enjoy so much in Metallica), single-note melodies that are easy to follow, etc.

But the bottom of this bag of tricks is reached quite quickly. The guitar solos are ONLY "rockin'"--they aren't interesting or beautiful, or relevant to the song. The catchy choruses, when all is said and done, are not as catchy as Venom or Kreator or even Morbid Angel. The supposed death-metal underpinning of everything, in the end, is warmed-over thrash metal riffs.

How to tell THIS kind of unsatisfying obviousness from genuine catchiness? I want to say something like, "Try to have your first listen through the (imagined) ears of a twentieth listen." For example, a lot of times, I have put on an album and someone in the room has exclaimed, "WAAAH this music is insane!!" But, honestly, what serious person pulls out a beloved record from their collection and throws it on the turntable simply to be baffled by it? And yet this is always a risk when a death metal fan approaches an album.

Not, however, a risk that The Crown run. The name of their game is not technical brutality but big choruses and rock flair. The idea, I think, is that they are going to be a "guilty pleasure" for serious metallers, pure ear candy... But while I may feel guilty (about not writing my dissertation instead of this review), I am not melting in pleasure.

There's nothing to say to someone who WANTS to like something, who has a Crown-shaped hole in their musical desires (and will soon have a Crown-shaped hole in their wallet!!). But all of our record collections are littered with these records. The record that was "exactly what I'm looking for" that day. Now, on any given occasion, my skepticism could be wrong: what sounds to me like "obviousness" could be a rich and rewarding, catchy album with little parts that will be enjoyed for a lifetime. But the evidence is all on the side of resisting a band's presentation of itself, of resisting hype, of waiting out the internet chat, of doubting the validity of comparisons (I like Deicide, but I do not like bands that tell me they "sound like Deicide").

I can easily imagine the listener who indignantly responds, "The Crown ARE catchy. They DO rock. Who are you to speak with the Voice of Eternity?" And these things aren't subject to some quantitative proof. My only response can be: my life is littered with these albums. I try to pick up on what lasts in music, what holds my interest for years of listening. The world exists to tell us that The Crown rock, and that Deicide are cheesy. But this doxa is worth precisely nothing.

Conclusion: what "jumps out at me" here is the feeling of "jumping out at me." I'm not a phenomenologist, but this seems to me a conceptual analogue (no pun intended) to the loudness war in CD-mastering.