Deliverance - Devil's Meat (1987)

From some dark vault the UK's Deliverance emerged with their dingy basement metal sound which, if you can still track it down today, is about as cult as it gets, finding a niche somewhere between genuine coffin-rock and basement doom. Read any review of this obscure band and you'll hear of a genuine interest, to the extent that many fans and admirers truly believe that such an act were genuinely scary in their approach. 'Devil's Meat' is a strange record, one that brings back the halcyon days of satanic metal, whether it's played for real is a question that remains unanswered, but this is spooky stuff, bathed in an imagery most 16-year olds would've craved back in the '80s.

Legend has it that the guys behind this creepy, graveyard sound were in fact a bunch of geeky-student types, you only have to read the odd thanks list when they speak of their gratitude to their 'PCs', to determine as to whether this is the real deal, but whatever the case, Deliverance are simply a strange bunch who churned out a very short yet mystical career, that any true metal head should seek out. Unfortunately, the bands records are not exactly easy to find, and are best purchased on vinyl, just check out the sleeve of this record for pure heavy metal Armageddon!



8/10

Morbid Angel - Blessed Are The Sick (1991)

A classic death metal record, twisted riffs and classical metal combined with Vincent's gruff satanic vocals and a blast-beat cauldron, a devilish intensity that never lets up from beginning to end, making 'Blessed...' are far more serious and sinister experience when compared to 'Altars...'. At times this is scary stuff, even the instrumental tracks such as 'Desolate Ways' make for harsh hearing as the band cruise through a vile assembly of manic death metal opera's, to form one the genre's most defining records.

Morbid Angel have always had that swaggering arrogance to walk hand in hand with their meaty, monstrous sound, and this album stands proudly as a true great within its chosen field. The guitar work of Azagthoth is at one mesmerising as well as hellish, the production bombastic and layered, as the band shift at a rate of knots through various complex passages mixed with intense, grinding noise.

If you're a real death metal fan then this is a must have. It's unlikely to ever sound dated, just check out the warped blitz of 'Fall From Grace', because although some bands got away with the gore/horror topics, Morbid Angel were far more busy trawling the depths of Hell for this abomination. Spine-wrenching stuff, and as black as any black metal record.

8.5/10

Jane's Addiction - Nothing's Shocking (1988)

Geffen may have made their millions out of big hit bands such as Nirvana and Guns 'n' Roses, but alongside the bitter Warrior Soul, Jane's addiction were one of the labels bravest signings, a hugely successful cult band that signified all that was right with alternative metal during their reign. Whilst there may have been hordes of pathetic imitation bands, poor funk-metal combo's and irritating groups attempting weirdness, Jane's Addiction, just like Faith No More, warrior Soul, Last Crack and I Love You just had that special something, but were only one of a few bands, including Faith No More, to rise above the oppressive scene at the time.

This is the band's second record, a wonderful, strange, sweeping and eerie opus of funky grunge, seedy rock, art gloom and twisted, sexual anarchy, mainly in the form of twiggy frontman Perry Farrell, flanked by his dandy army of glam punks and drop-outs, who when fused together somehow came up with this stomping and wildly unpredictable work.

There's no real bracket to put this band in, the music, always incredibly catchy and accessible is yet still so distant, whether it's in the form of jazz-funk cavorting of 'Standing In The Shower Thinking' and 'Idiots Rule', or the breathtaking wheeze of 'Summerime Rolls', there's no pin-pointing what lurks behind the bands idea or concept except to say that it's a myriad of stark angels, perverse love triangles, brooding paranoia and drug-induced psychosis, yet it never gets angry or dirty, but remains a hazy layer in the mind, despite occasionally being a frenetic noise, this always remains a freakish pleasure, pulling in an audience from wherever.

'Nothings Shocking' DID shock when it hit the racks, the record wrapped in a rubbery black sleeve hiding the nude, Siamese twin sculpture of the real cover within, but look beyond the facade and explore the truly hidden depths of this record and you'll find a wonderfully intelligent and at times awkward record that remains one of rocks most dazzling yet still underrated pieces of work.

forget the money-makers on Geffen's roster, it was always this kind of rock 'n' roll that the kids craved most.

8.5/10

Sodom - Persecution Mania (1987)

Rattling German death-speed, kinda like a cross between basement Slayer and a tinny Motorhead, nothing dazzling, just pure '80s thrash noise, puking holocaustic visions amongst a clattering of Voivod-esque riffs and grim vocals almost playing the black metal sickness. 'Iron Fist', of Motorhead fame makes a smoke-filled entrance alongside other riotous offerings such as the stormy title cut and 'Bombenhagel', all lacking in any real thrill but I was loving it as a teenager, and couldn't wait for the next apocalyptic yarn to burst my ear drums.

I've always liked Sodom and their straight down the line cacophonous thrash assaults, but this is strictly for the metal head seeking something more than hair rock.

7.5/10

Extreme - II Pornograffitti (1990)

A rather sickly sweet record that at times will have you reaching for the sick bucket, but during more blessed times you'll be admiring yet possibly with reluctance. Extreme irritate with the pumping 'Get The Funk Out', vocalist Gary Cherone attempting to become the next funk lord but coming across as a bad imitation of Mr Kiedis from the Peppers.

This is a strange record, the bands second, an overly long yet bombastic affair that propelled the band to great heights with their solid brand of rock that wasn't cheesy enough to fit into the hair metal bracket, but instead sweep up a huge audience by way of sweeping ballads, some real rock out numbers and the occasional chart hit, but there's a great deal of diversity on here even if I'm not so sure as to who the band think they are or if this is some kind of perfectly natural sound, or something manufactured, but whatever the case, there is almost a feel of stadium super-stardom here,some real pop gems on offer sitting in-between one or two unexpected crunchers, somehow coming up trumps but leaving me bemused, because 'Porno...' lacks the mysticism of say a Jane's Addiction, the streetwise grit of Warrior Soul and certainly are no match for the scary schizophrenia of Faith No More, but somehow Extreme bridge that gap between the alternative and the mainstream but not once are they able to become a cool cult act, because when you hear the slow movers on offer here, especially 'Hole Hearted', 'Song For Love' and mega hit 'More Than Words', you'll want to cringe but probably find yourself singing along instead, knowing full well that it's a lot more credible than Mr. Big, and the dynamics of the band make for a real potent fusion of soulful rock and colour-spattered metal.

Extreme really had something, and it made for bizarre listening because through all its mainstream qualities and faceless pomp, 'Porno..' really was, and still is a good rock record.

8/10

Corrosion Of Conformity - Deliverance (1994)

Three years on from the superb 'Blind' and guitarist Pepper Keenan has taken on the vocal duties, and boy, what a record this turned out to be. C.O.C. were always a cult band, but around this time they could have been something so much more, and were even nominated for a Grammy, which, in the U.S. is the BIG time. However, whilst C.O.C. never succumbed to the mighty dollar, the potential was always there for them to be the most amazing Sabbath/Metallica offspring, and on 'Deliverance' the band delivered like no other at the time, putting the weight and groove back into metal yet still with two feet firmly on the dusty ground. This record was a true elephantine experience, combining monster riffs with some superb boogie-electro rock, not heard since the days of Mordred's streetwise shuffle. Keenan is far more an elastic frontman than Agell ever was, and 'Vote With A Bullet' from 'Blind' was just a hint at what was to come.

C.O.C. remain one of the only truly soulful bands, maintaining a rare genuine groove that seeps from their sound whether they are burning the rubber on something as rowdy as 'My Grain', or something so blissful as retro heavenly 'Albatross', and check out that Thin Lizzy vibe on 'Clean My Wounds' with its funky jive.

'Deliverance' is an immense record that put C.O.C. in a class of their own, although the debut efforts of Machine Head and Fear Factory were setting a pace also, but if you, at that time, or even now, are looking for something to fill that gap between early Metallica and Trouble then look no further than this monster.

8.5/10

Saigon Kick - Water (1993)

By some sick twist of ill fate, the swirling, swooning Matt Kramer is dumped, and Scott Bieler takes over the reigns of the band (his band!?), driving a huge nail in the coffin of this great band, despite there being some real moments of note on this lush record.

'Water' is the sound of a band leaning away from the chunkier moments of the first two records, gliding effortlessly into some new wave rock bravado yet lacking any real meat or attitude to go the distance. This isn't a band washed up but more a band literally watered down as the title so adequately suggests. 'Water' is at times sweeping, pensive and breezy, yet rarely does it surprise like the first two records which so simply swaggered one minute, and the next tugged the heartstrings with a caressing balled, but this record has some sweet pockets, but it's a little too lightweight, Bieler's vocals a rather weak bleat in the face of Kramer's diverse ranting's. However, it must be said that as 'Water' drifts aimlessly into 1993, music of a heavier nature had already been crushed by the stampede of grunge and light-alterno college guys, and so the colourful phases of the late '80s and very early '90s were simply pollen on the wind, distant memories and fragrances.

but let us not forget the finer moments of this record, but when you hear the simple yet effective plonk of 'I Love You' or the strut of 'The Way', you'll certainly have your head in the clouds, but deep down wondering just what these would have sounded like had Kramer been behind the mic stand.

'Water' is still a nice little opus, awash with splendour, particularly the glorious 'When You Were Mine' and moody 'On And On', and some of these special episodes even made it as far as another album, 'the Devil In The Details', but four albums were just a little too much for a band who clearly expelled all their electricity during the time when it was simply meant to be.

7/10

Warrior Soul - Drugs, God & The New Republic (1991)

The angst-ridden rebel returns, Kory Clarke with a mouthful of dirt and an attitude to match, digging the sleaze, swinging to excess and breathing in the grey smoke of the world he so despises.

This is rock revolution volume two, more upbeat and rock 'n' roll than 'Last Decade...', at time still as sarcastically bleak, check out the downbeat buzz of 'Jump For Joy', but boy, what an anthem.

This is pure punk rock, Clarke is on a one-man crusade through the rubble, kicking up dust and chewing on the rust, making himself known even to those who don't want to listen. He can be mellow too though, 'Children Of The Winter' reeks of youth but it's the swagger that blows the mind, 'My Time' and 'The Real Thing' just shake and roll, it's like a nuclear Rolling Stones, casting aside the debris and holding a fist for the new generation, whilst the title cut just soars, its ascension is eternal.

Warrior Soul are such an important band, despite the fragrance of depression and grey laced wings they fly with, but they can be beautifully angelic alongside their hint of the tragic, and for me this is their peak, because despite the harshness and power of the voice, such a band pretty much some up the word 'cult', because if Warrior Soul had made it big, they just wouldn't have been the same.

God bless Warrior Soul.

8.5/10

Mordred - Vision (1992)

In 1992 'Vision', a mini-lp of sorts, hit the racks, and for some reason it didn’t get great press at all. One magazine said it was ‘average’ and was more Queensryche influenced than anything else!! For me, 'Vision' was a great step forward for the band, branching out into vast soundscapes as well as the usual fusion of funk-drenched guitars, superb scratching and samples, and the usual metal soul. Holderby seemed more involved, having written three of the six songs on this mini-platter, and yet this record was to be Scott’s last outing, and for me, the funeral of this great, underrated band.

'Vision' is a laid-back slab, cosmically mixed, soulfully tweaked and something akin in stature to Voivod’s magnificent, darkly-tinged Angel Rat opus although that particular opus being more Pink Floyd-esque. If anything, 'Vision' is Mordred moving away from the thrash and becoming a heavy rock act. By 1992 death metal and 'grunge' was taking over, the Bay Area thrash scene was dying, rock was also dying, and it would take quite a few years to re-emerge albeit in regurgitated form, because 1992 was all about so-called grunge, although that scene was mainly late ‘80s, and an underground scene at that, but by 1992 bands such as Nirvana, Pearl Jam and Soundgarden had taken over, they were accessible to the masses, maybe there was no more room for Mordred.
'In Time' kicks in, casually too. It could have fitted perfectly onto 'In This Life' as a companion to 'Downtown', with its quirky guitars, Scott’s loose tones and the street-wise lyrics, the track, like so many other Mordred tracks, beefed by a solid, memorable chorus and shining percussion. 'West County Hospital' is once again laid-back, no hint of a crunchy riff as such, but this is one of their greatest moments, Holderby’s lyrics hitting the heart, a personal story by the sounds of it, of young desperation, an urge to break free from the strains of society, only this time the chorus is incredibly mellow, highly infectious and very soulful, a sound one would become accustomed to on Holderby’s solo effort 'Ungodly Blue Sun'. 'West County Hospital' is a cool moment, proof that Mordred were keen to expand, to become accessible yet still distinctive, but certainly more mellowed from the previous two efforts, and 'The Vagrant', previously known as 'Fragrance Of Vagrance', elaborates on the usual street-wise subjects, this is another track that could have appeared on 'In This Life' yet once again is of a laid-back nature, more of Pauses’ injections, the scatty breaks and the funk-fuelled guitar works, and once again that infectious chorus of, “…can you tell me why, I’m left with no means to survive”, something so predominant on cuts like 'Lion’s Den', 'Falling Away' etc, that soaring, perfectly rhymed bellow. However, 'Reach' is far different, a spaced out cosmic exercise spruced up with White’s far-reaching lyrical content of the planets, the solar system and all things solarised, this is an immense track, complex in nature that slides with cool scratch bursts and ascends on a chorus straight to the zenith.

Lyrically this is once again class, and despite all the great musicianship of the band, as well as the eclectic ideas, lyrically they had always been spot-on, moving between a variety of subjects yet always saying something even if at times unclear, yet clearly psychedelic in content.'Close Minded' is probably one of the most predictable Mordred songs. This may sound harsh, but for me it’s the EP’s weakest track, despite still blowing all the opposition away. This is true rap-metal crossover, a pummelling, juggernaut of a riff replacing a hip-hop beat and Pause takes to the mic, he raps as cool as any rapper or other MC, but this is almost too predictable for a band of this quality, with a lyrical content that literally questions why people should be so narrow-minded about this style of music, but it’s a common theme by 1992, and lesser bands such as Body Count, early Anthrax, Beastie Boys, The Hard Corps (to a lesser extent), and a whole host of latter bands, i.e. Rage Against The Machine, Biohazard, Korn etc, were doing it in the same almost shoddy, commercial manner. Don’t get me wrong, 'Close Minded' is a cool track, but it’s too obvious, as if to say, “…hey, we fuse metal and rap so let’s do a rap over some riffs”, and if anything it’s too simple for this great band, and for me it wasn’t a track trying to be different and it wasn’t a track where people were going to take note because it was common ground by this point even if Vaughn’s lyrics are excellent.

'Vision' wraps up the platter, a vibrant, buzzing cut awash with colour, Scott’s delivery hazed, the scratching splashing and sprinkling, a mish-mash of cosmic rock and dazed and confused abandon rested upon a mellow chorus, and before you know it this brief EP is over, leaving you begging for more, yet at the time little did this listener know that such dreams were short-coming, this would be the last of the real Mordred, who, by this time had also released three excellent records, a brilliant live video filmed at one of the 1991 London Marquee shows, entitled, 'In This Live', and three singles. The next record, their worst, 'The Next Room', an awkward, Holderby-bereft slab of power metal would be the end, although such an end had obviously reared its ugly head long before.Vision, at the time of its release, didn’t seem to be promoted very well, and it wasn’t received as ecstatically, rumours of ill spates with the press abounded, true or not, but spin this record again and you’ll be swept up in the whirlwind, and the album remains a fitting last word in that it should be called 'Vision', a word that sums up the world in which Mordred lived…and created, yet which many obscenely ignored. Their loss.

9/10

Last Crack - Burning Time (1991)

Call it alterno-metal, call it arty rock, whatever, this is classy stuff, imagine if U2 were actually any good, mix it up with a funky mysticism and the coolness of say I love You and you have Last Crack, a religious metalfest enshrouded in mystery, darkness and all things nice.

This is a strange record, there's no doubt about that, but it's one that didn't deserve to be lumped in with the early '90s new metal crowd, because Last Crack were simply too classy to conform to a trend, and frontman Buddo way too enigmatic to be caught up in fanciful funk trends, his cooler than cool expression, behind tinted shades, one of messiah-like proportions as the band and their grand sound beat out numerous wickedly dark and intriguing hymns, never really letting on to their ethos but instead drowning the listener in a quagmire of raging musicianship and dream-like lyrics. Where The Front lacked any kind of attitude or perversity in their retro pomp, Last Crack embrace their own arrogance and glide with the angels as well as the demons, churning out a fine variety of unpredictable tracks, whether they take on the form of poetic whispers or sonic booms.

I can only suggest you pick this gem up because attempting to describe the potency of say 'Mini Toboggan' or 'My Burning Time' would be pointless, this is simply a quality hard rock record with lashings of individual and original swagger.

8.5/10

Voivod - Angel Rat (1991)

Defying their early thrash-punk roots, Voivod, after the mellower concept experimentation of 'Dimension Hatross' (not reviewed) and 'Nothingface' (not reviewed) turned in a true classic on 'Angel Rat', complete with freaky cover and further eerie artwork courtesy of drummer Away, they delved deep into Pink Floyd's psych realm with this wistful, Zeppish rock album. Suddenly long gone were the spiky tribal clatterings as the band leapt light years ahead to fuse '60s oddness with a new wave sci-fi of sorts, throwing in all manner of influences from The Cure , Rush to the insane ramblings of H.P. Lovecraft.

'Angel Rat' is reminiscent of a surreal painting, a bizarre, twisted realm of falling stars, purple oceans and cosmic creatures, where a deeper menace lurks but never shows its true face. This is gothic, and very alien but not possessing the coldness of the last two albums but instead offering a glimpse of some vivid yet nightmarish place where we'd love to tread but prefer the comfort of our own homes. The Voivod place is sometimes deserted but peel the layers of hallucination away and you'll find holographic freaks leering from every dim corner, lights flickering, strange craft whizzing into the zenith and a selection of songs which are accessible, and certainly catchy but which slip from your brain as soon as the record is over, prompting you to listen once again to the nocturnal whispers that will once again take you on this peculiar voyage.

'Clouds In My House' got the band on the t.v., a wistful, swirling fusion yet fragile psych rock work-out, whilst 'Panorama' jerks like a bleating robot, the band painting stormy pictures of '50s b-movies coupled with extraterrestrial retro rock.

Lyrically it's masterful, never letting go of its ability to astound yet always baffle.

8.5/10

Faith No More - Angel Dust (1992)

Faith No More must've spent their time between the exotic 'The Real Thing' and 'Angel Dust', living amongst the sleaze, revelling in the surreal and self-mutilating their warped ego's, because 'Angel Dust' is one helluva obnoxious record, a nasty, experimental, two-fingered salute to those who drowned in the sickly sweet excess of past hits such as 'Epic'. 1992 was the year of the unfairground, and Mike Patton's true stamp on the planet, as his bratty, all American boy persona gave way to serial killer suaveness, oily-haired trucker and all round dodgy character, like some sneering, shifty menace from a David Lynch film, he brought his Mr Bungle influence to the rumble of FNM's already schizophrenic wheezes, but this time it was always darker, always sarcastic, yet somehow inviting into its shadiness and despair.

The mutterings were that people just didn't get 'Angel Dust', despite some serious catchiness this record was just too violent and brutal for many alternative-rock types to grab onto, instead 'Angel Dust' slithered eerily between death metal gurgles, spazztic industrial lunacy and commercial suicide, but so many years later it remains one of the greatest rock albums of all time, a bemusing, sinister and vivid dark recollection of Patton's obsession with late night tv channels, too much coffee and in-jokes that are simply downright evil.

Faith No More, as a live act were always colourful, but 'Angel...' propelled them to greater levels of self-harm, torment and inner frustration, the band themselves creaking under inner tensions as metaller guitar god Jim Martin eventually bowed out, leaving Mike Bordin to hammer the skins, Roddy Bottum to create the weird soundcsapes, and Billy Gould to thud the bass, all essential to the FNM surreal experience in which Patton became the hillybilly-cum-psychopath ringleader, his vile words and arrogant rasps flitting between poppy chords, bouncy anthems and swirling imagery, all sewn together with a layer of severe spite.

'Caffeine' borders on inaccessible, Patton's swoons now more of an off-beat, out of sequence warble over the rumbling guitars, only 'Midlife Crisis', the first single from the album' resembles a true FNM hit, the beat is very 'We Care Alot', but lyrically it's a slightly saner Mr Bungle sprinkled with Bottum's symbolic effects and Gould's trademark bass slams.

Like 'The Real Thing', 'Angel Dust' is once again faultless, anyone who cowers away from such a frightful circus of horrors should at once be confined to a cankered cell, because deep within the grime of this record lies not only a seething terror but a genuine masterpiece, from the lush openings of 'A Small Victory, irritatingly catchy yet as alien as anything else you're likely to hear, to the almost pleasant diversions of 'kindergarten' and upbeat cheerleader echoes of 'Be Aggressive', but as the band smirk at you, knowing you can't resist the candy, they also wait to rape your soul and put the dirt under your nails, check out the grotty yet swinging 'RV' with its huge twanging chorus, akin to Primus, and the sweeping cover of 'Midnight Cowboy'.

This is a wonderful yet scary experience, proving that Faith No More defy all categorisations, break all boundaries and can equally spit in the face of the success but somehow still drag it inside for the most horrific ride of its life.

10/10

Fear Factory - Soul Of A New Machine (1992)

In 1992 Fear Factory may well have been the new kids on the block but the style of metal they created was something akin to a new sound that battered the competition. 'Soul Of...' is an inventive, aggressive and heavyweight mixture of pounding, dry industrial metal and technological death metal, the brutality of it all leaving me shuddering for weeks after I'd lent an ear, then had it burnt off by the sheer fury within.

Burton C. Bell slips from whispering maniac to rasping terror, all the while the machinery rolls behind him, it's not quite death metal but what is it exactly ? No wonder there was a buzz around this band long before this record hit the shelves, because it was obviously clear that there was going to be a massive rubble clean up after this wrecking ball had hit down.

There are choruses here also, a fresh approach, something progressive yet catchy, but never losing its weight despite its intention to create. The guitars here are the cogs which work this whole thing, but there's so much going on here, kick-starting a new wave of metal in the early '90s that would culminate in the demise of the '80s metal imagery.

'Martyr' is a raping classic, complete with electronic vocal effects, Bell's variety adding a new ingredient to the mix, 'Scapegoat' somehow catchy yet ominous, the whole mechanism being a huge, churning iron wheel, buttons being frantically pushed, effects constantly triggered, the metal world ablaze as these four guys carve their niche, haunting us for many years to come although never equalling the domination of this pumping debut. This was the new noise.

8.5/10

Candlemass - Nightfall (1987)

More epic doom descends from the fiery zenith as Sweden' finest set out another untouchable stall that weighs a ton and leaves holes in the ground. I'm still preferring the majestic 'Ancient Dreams' and Messiah's frowns, but this is still essential gloom under the plodding riffage and occasional Sabbath leanings, but this is more poetic in its darkness, often reflected in the bands album covers, being old paintings. Candlemass have cast dark shadows for some time now, conjuring images of rain-soaked castles and murky depths, their stoneface noise often bold and beautiful and soaring above a genre that offers way too many stale old wizards.

Finest moments here being 'The Well Of Souls', 'Bewitched' and 'Samarithan'.

8/10

Terrorrizer - World Downfall (1989)

Bone crunching side project of Morbid Angel's David Vincent and Pete Sandoval, alongside Jesse Pintado and grunter Oscar Garcia, 'World Downfall' is somewhat a cult grindcore masterpiece, a frantic, politically-bruising hard thrashcore deathfest. No real surprises or special effects to be expected here, just a violent journey through a set of short, choppy tracks fuelled by Vincent's raving bass, Garcia's gurgles and some fuzzed up grinding guitars.

I've always had a soft spot for such dirty, strangulating deathcore, it's attitude alone hits like a tidal wave, although the pace is far more severe.

7/10

Kiss - Crazy Nights (1987)

This record is about as essential as a fatal disease but is included because it's one of the first rock records I purchased, although pretty much played it twice before vomiting! 'Crazy Nights' symbolises how the other half of the metal genre lived during the mid to late '80s, dodgy new denim, cowboy boots, hair getting bigger and huge stageshows, but what such accessories couldn't hide was the fact that Kiss were nothing more than a bog standard rock band who had about as much attitude as a cornflake. 'Crazy Nights' was a success, the title cut aired on most radio shows, a big, corny American party anthem to sit sickeningly alongside Bon Jovi's 'Living On A Prayer', but worse was to come on the record,with only 'Reason To Live' owning any kind of credibility...and even that was debatable.

Even so, 'Crazy Nights' is a nostalgic inclusion...just don't buy it for its retail price.

6/10

Danzig - II Lucifuge (1990)

The Evil Elvis of dark rock forges new black pathways on the bands follow-up to the impressive self-titled debut, only this time the fumes are richer and the images distinctly more gothic and suave as the man with the devilish pipes preachings and rants through more shock horror tracks, bestial blues metal black-veiled tales. The storytelling is dramatic here, the album far more twisted than the debut, at times punkier and certainly a whole black aeon smarter, losing itself in its own wet coils,'Long Way Back From Hell', 'Killer Wolf', 'Her Black Wings' and 'Devil's Plaything' are rampant vampyric legions sailing into the night under the leering Moon. This is real heavy metal for the new black masses, venomous, soul-baring rock 'n' roll that breathes sweat, blood and glory and leaves you bound, wanting more.

8/10

Confessor - Condemned (1991)

Confessor wipe away any typical doom rock influences with this desolate record that is not for the easily saddened. Forget retro riffs, forget Sabbath leanings, this is a complex, disorientating sound that jerks and sharply prods, often out of context with the whole doom rock genre, there's no natural flow here, just despairing cries from singer Scott Jeffreys, inaccessible riffing from Shoaf and Colon and some spectacular if somewhat epileptic drumming from Stephen Shelton who steals the show with his uncontrollable poundings.

Vocally, it's mournful cries over the solid percussion and cold yet extremely tight slabs of jerking rock, 'Alone' paints grey, inconsolable images, only on 'Uncontrolled' are the band in a mood to speedup, but don't expect this to be your usual slab of slo-mo doom sludge, it's nothing of the sort, but a potent blend of grim warnings, banshee-like wails, and a drum sound that kicks like a mule.

Unique doom through and through, which even in its bitterness remains undeniably addictive, albeit remote.

8/10

Autopsy -Severed Survival (1989)

Watery, gore-infested and rusty death metal as such, but with a gloomier side from a real cult band, one of my fave's within the genre who have provided enough sickness and grime over the years to claim the 'gore metal' genre as their own.

At times Autopsy sound like they've recorded their records in a bathtub, a clanking, hollow sound from some echoing catacomb where the skins are pounded with bones and rotten flesh is chewed and spat out from zombiefied jaws. Overall, the menace is here as well as the splatter factor, this lacks the corny imagery of say Cannibal Corpse and remains somehow nastier despite its less than descriptive lyrical stance, but what you do get is a no-thrills form of death grind will have the worms feasting for days. Putrid.

See also Abscess and The Ravenous for similar vermin.

8/10

Saigon Kick - The Lizard (1992)

The uncrowned kings of lush rock return, the ballads are bigger, the choruses catchier, yet somehow this is vocalist Matt Kramer's last outing with the band, and the end of a brief god-like existence.

Again, when the riffs need to rock, they are overloaded, something akin to the heavier moments of Crue's 'Dr Feelgood', but when it comes to the more subtle shades, 'Love Is On The Way', 'All I Want' and 'Feel The Same Way', none do it better, these are truly classy compositions that were minor hits on the airwaves, the band slipping between styles with such grace and ease, combing Beatlesque melodies with bombastic glam rock, snake-like hips of Kramer cavorting between the grooves, 'The Lizard' and 'Peppermint Tribe' being down right rockers, 'God Of 42nd Street' and 'My Dog' contrasting styles, the band emotional yet raw, well packaged and complete, flying a hair-metal banner but in reality way too intelligent for the simplicities of such a genre.

This is simply clever metal, file alongside the more bruising Warrior Soul, the sleazier Love/Hate and the sugary Enuff Z Nuff.

8.5/10

Dark Angel - Leave Scars (1989)

Dark Angel, vastly underrated yet on record almost matching the heavyweight evil and atrocity of Slayer's finest moments. Dark Angel were complex, vicious and gargantuan thrash, with lyrics that delved deep into the human subconscious, and which stalked the seedy streets of every sinister city. Dark Angel were at once furious, pounding and true, breathing a supreme intelligence and arrogance into the thrash world.

The first few records were decent assaults but 'Leave Scars' was banging on the door of the Big Four, being Slayer, Megadeth, Metallica and Anthrax, yet Dark Angel were certainly more in the Slayer field, 'Leave Scars' and especially the human drum monster, Gene Hoglan, blasting through a series of unkempt yet tight tracks, murderously executed, Rinehart's furious vocals somehow cramming a horde of perverted, wicked yet extremely sociological lyrics into a backbeat that, at times, resembles Slayer's fastest, most pummelling moments, for instance, check out that stamping introduction on 'The Death Of Innocence', and those feverish solo's, immense stuff.

'Never To Rise Again' is about the closest Dark Angel get to a three-minute thrash battering ram, but third cut 'No One Answers' is what Dark Angel are all about, a seven-minute mammoth that stomps for a minute, crushing all in its wake before heading into piledriving speed, pure insanity, bringing to mind the dark assault of Possessed.

'Leave Scars' is Dark Angel's second best album, the next offering, 'Time Does Not Heal' being their milestone, yet tragically the band would not last, but age has treated their sound and status well, because music wise 'Leave Scars' is still a fresh and consuming blackness, ensuring that Dark Angel have their place in metal history.

8.5/10

Watchtower - Control & Resistance (1989)

About as accessible as a barbed-wire maze, this cult techno-thrash relic is full of wizardry in the musical department, but it's certainly one for the complex guru's, because although startling in its showmanship and tight percussion, this is without doubt one of the more acquired tastes within the thrash metal field. Cynic, Atheist, and the likes also opted for such intricacies, but this record is at once dazzling yet thorny in its approach. Not exactly your typical crunch-fest, this relies heavily on the soaring, high-pitched vocal delivery of Alan Tecchio and guitar masturbating of Ron Jarzombek.

'Control & Resistance' is far from being a simple record, at times leaving you cold with its multitude of layers and discordant speed, the bass jerking back and forth between the trigger-happy drumming and the rhythms pulsing and pumping but leaving you shaking in a limbo of spasmodic and epileptic frenzy.

Watchtower were pretty short-lived, possibly because as a band they were just too inaccessible but I'm sure there were a few out there who lapped up the complexities of this bewildering thrash.

8/10

Mordred - In This Life (1991)

It was a weird time, like a whole new era. From the risky business and slight diversity of 'Fool’s Game', the metal scene had all of a sudden become soaked in the sweat of band-wagon jumpers, trend followers and sickly, sweet rip-off’s. Fool’s Game seemed almost ‘years ago’ and yet in two years Mordred had become one of the leaders of a pack fronted by giants such as Faith No More, bands who’d taken metal to new extremes, still providing aggression, and yet somehow letting it walk hand-in-hand alongside soul, industrial smash-up’s, death metal growls, country ‘n’ western twangs and avant-garde ramblings. Anthrax had tried it, the Beastie Boys were moving into it, Chilli Peppers and Fishbone were now serious leaders instead of cartoon tamperers, French-Canadian thrashers Voivod took it beyond psychedelia and Mordred were all of a sudden in the Top 75 of the U.K. charts, it was bizarre, fresh and yet so intoxicating.DJ Pause was permanent, James Sanguinetti now responsible for the crunchy, sharp riffs, and the band on the whole had escaped from the Bay Area thrash assault that other acts were still stuck in, or what they called ‘sticking to their guns’, but the innovation of Mordred was immense, people started to get it, others were irritated that it spawned horrific spin-off’s such as the UK’s Ignorance and Scat Opera, the German outfit Freaky Fukin’ Weirdoz, and U.S. atrocities such as Scatterbrain and Psychefunkupus. Some called it a new scene, others labelled it ‘funk metal’, that name alone killed it, tarred it and cursed it, because any band around 1991 that meddled with something different was bogged down by the comparisons and corniness. Mordred were still far removed from that scene despite Liboon’s bass-lines taking on a funky twist, the grooves in general becoming far more melody based, even with the thrashier outings, and now Pause was very much involved, sprinkling even the most furious of tracks with rap samples, spasticated scratches and keyboard quirks. For me, it was one of the most eagerly anticipated records of all time, and to this day it hasn’t left the turntable. Wrapped in a green-tinged industrial sleeve, complete with some of the finest, gritty, smoke-filled lyrics, this album astonished, perplexed and writhed in its own psychedelic crunchiness, revelled in its ghetto groove and was just too damn cool for my friends! The title cut bubbled in on a cool bass strut and Holderby took to the mic, a rap-style flow injected with a deep, chanted chorus of, “…make your own way, in this life, have to find a way to rise above the pain and strife”. 'The Strain' fluently cuts in, Pause becomes evident, big time jerks in the thrash department, a cutting edge, heavy rhythm based upon a topic more akin to something off a rap album, lyrics of the street, the social despair, gunshot wounds and drugs. This was not funk metal, and neither was it thrash, and whilst other cool bands such as Last Crack, Mindfunk, I Love You and Love/Hate were mixing styles, 'In This Life' was something else, up there with Faith No More’s The Real Thing as a cauldron of styles, somehow accessible, yet oh so complex in its volume of diversity. 'High Potency' and 'Window' keeping the riffs real, but it was the immense quirkiness of 'Esse Quam Videri' that did it, the one track, like a more stylish sequel to 'Everyday’s A Holiday' drenched in jingly, funk guitars, slap bass, Scott’s flittering tones and cosmic lyrics interwoven by an almost hip-hop backing made even more street-wise by Pauses’ rapping, yes, rapping, something so common now amongst the ‘nu-metal’ crowd and yet so commercial, but back then it was a rare sound, something used by only a handful of bands such as 24-7-Spyz, Anthrax etc. 'Esse Quam Videri' (meaning, ‘to be rather than to seem’), is one of the band’s finest moments, a sweaty, orgasmic, flippant, epileptic circus of atmosphere, sexual innuendo and strobe light ecstasy. It remains one of the album’s greatest moments, and yet the album has no weak moments. (This track was also brilliantly remixed as a single, backed with two live cuts, and was promoted on late night t.v. with a superb, psychedelic video).Side Two kicks off with an acoustic intro, entitled 'A Beginning', to the might that is 'Falling Away', a pounding, black and white vision of street life, possessing some of the most chilling, searing melodies, Holderby’s most spiteful delivery and a general groove that shudders and sends icy shivers down the spine. It was a single for the band, backed with the brilliant cover of Thin Lizzy’s 'Johnny The Fox Meets Jimmy The Weed' and cool, horn-based new cut 'Lion’s Den', and the promotional video was as equally cool, an urban short movie where t.v.’s fall from high windows, played out like some gritty, downtown cop movie. 'Killing Time' is as equally industrial in its outlook, an echoing stride beyond the realms of thrash, fusing complex melodic rock with biting thrash fusion, and then we are back to the red-light coolness that only Mordred can create, the ska-influenced 'Downtown', like something from 'Starsky & Hutch', this slow-tempo number is straight from the San Francisco gutter, Holderby’s lyrics (even though the band often stated that Holderby wasn’t involved enough on the records!) a laid-back drool so cool that they wear shades. 'Downtown' walks casually through a sound reminiscent of English band The Police (fronted by Sting), a strutting, smoking joint of a number shattered suddenly by the battering ram that is Progress, the true thrash number on the album, a spiteful attack on mankind’s harsh treatment of the Earth, and a number which sounds like a more modernised of say Fool’s Game’s faster numbers. The album ends with another laid-back, scratch-spliced injection, the arrogant 'Larger Than Life' which would soon be echoed by the 'Vision' EP title cut, Scott’s vocal buzz soaring from the debris of Pauses’ eccentric scratches and the chanted words of , “..stand my ground, won’t back down”, before the record finally stomps to its end, the needle lifts and there is silence. However, anyone in their right mind will reach for the needle immediately afterwards, just like I did, and once again sit through this black cauldron of a record, to pick out the stunning chords, the streetwise vocals, the trickling bass-lines, the complex drums and the variety of cool samples which a few years before the metal world would never of dreamed of having alongside thrash guitars.'In This Life' is one of the finest, most inventive and original rock records ever made, for it’s time it is a milestone, an ignored landmark, but for this brief period, Mordred were selling out shows across Europe, the metal press ranted and raved about their style (the album received a five-K rating in Kerrang! Magazine) and their live shows, and bands from all over the world began to incorporate such styles into their own sound. However, the scene became a suffocating, sickly mess where quantity outweighed the quality. The main bands within the scene, i.e. Mordred, Faith No More, et al had to either move on or suffer tragically and go from cult stars to non-existent, and in the case of bands such as Mindfunk, that’s exactly what happened.
'In This Life' is a classic. Simple as that. A timeless record that puts today's so-called innovative artists to shame.

10/10

Trouble - Manic Frustration (1992)

The Chicago gloomsters shed their ominous edge and become one with The Beatles now, still mixing it up with the Sabbath arrogance and Zeppelin strut, this being the bands last great album and the tragic end of their Def American phase, but wow, what a journey and what a pair of monster recordings, 'Manic...' being more of a dazed, sexed up and psychedelic behemoth that swirls, swaggers and cuts deeper than the sombre swayings of the previous genius.

Hard to compare the two records although both are equal powertrips of utter compelling greatness, but 'Manic...' has that '60s tinge, somewhere between the guitar screams and hedonistic lyrics, particularly on the classic 'Memory's Garden', which although would sitell on 'Trouble', has a more uplifting edge, and is rocketed high by the laser precision guitars and dense production.

'Come Touch The Sky' is a Zeppelin classic mixed with the Sabbath weight, beautifully executed, perfectly crafted, seemingly simple but oh so metal and magic, 'Hello Strawberry Skies' immediate proof however that the band are on to a more stoned outing rather than worshipping the blackened skies of doom. 'Breathe' offers that touching, dreamy soundscape, again lighter in mood than quieter, more pensive moments on the previous album, but just like the gargantuan previous record, this also has that feeling of completeness, that wonderful, thick enveloping mist of sheer genius and arrogance, where the band surely must have known that what they'd created was simply class.

Trouble peaked on 'Trouble' and 'Manic...', these albums were their 'Revolver', their 'Sabbath Bloody Sabbath', etc, so the fact that they remain just a cult band is simply criminal, because anyone who hasn't heard Trouble hasn't lived.

10/10

Death Angel - Frolic Through The Park (1988)

More no holds barred Bay Area thrash from the blazing youth, plus a mint cover of Kiss classic 'Cold Gin', Death Angel finally giving it the edge it deserves, but 'Frolic...' is much more, a mature, complex and buzzing thrash record of aggressive, punk-tinged metal spliced by classic speedcore and that formidable San Francisco crunch, 'Third Floor' and skater anthem 'Bored' raise the roof, no let up here, furious and slamming riffage, angry vocals, and dynamics that much of the Bay Area scene had forgotten all about in the name of mediocrity.

There's a hidden groove here, which would become more apparent on the bands next record, 'Frolic...' simply chooses to go full throttle in the speed stakes but has such an element of coolness, making Death Angel on of the finest thrash acts.

8/10

Sabbat - History Of A Time To Come (1988)

A real cult gem from the UK, Sabbath coming across as the bastard offspring of Venom and Tolkien's 'Lord Of The Rings' trilogy with their mystical darkness, but this is quite satanic in its overtones, blending speedy thrash with some truly classic heavy metal imagery, from the fantasy cover to Martin Walkyier's growled and venomous tones, great stuff.

Sabbat were always more than your average thrash act, on here combining some bizarre Pagan jigs with medieval oddness, weaved together by some fantastic playing, the music pretty heavy and mid-tempo, some cracking yet enchanted lyrics, and a facade Mercyful Fate and Kind Diamond would be proud of.

Imagine the movie 'The Wicker Man' put to record and you'd get some idea at the intensity and eeriness of this ominous record, leaving the listener spellbound through its dark meanderings through woodland pathways and titan caverns, but this has that European feel to it, an oddness and dryness that you'd associate with Voivod, Coroner, Celtic Frost and the likes, that shadowy presence between big riffs and nasty, sneering vocals.

Imagine the fires crackling and crows squawking to the potent sounds of 'A Cautionary Tale', the booming 'Behind The Crooked Cross' and 'I For An Eye'.

Splendid, majestic and certainly rustic in all its witchy glory.

8.5/10

D.R.I. - 4 Of A Kind (1988)

Good time crunching hardcore thrash, somewhere between light punk and the mosh of Anthrax.

Quite a cult band, this album being an underrated favourite, with enough party anthems and solid riffing to please many a skater and headbanger, the vocals of Kurt Brecht more of a choppy chant, and tracks such as 'Suit And Tie Guy', 'Manifest Destiny', and 'Shut Up' may be short and sweet and something akin to Anthrax b-sides, but there is an appeal here for anyone seeking something to jump around to. D.R.I. are one of my favourite cult acts who have got better over the years.

8/10

Mr Bungle - Mr Bungle (1991)

It's the in-joke that always makes you feel uncomfortable. It's the sinister clown at the unfairground. The dark corner. A David Lynch film. A circus of horrors. It's the album that no-one got. The Ninetendo electronics, the porn extracts, the surreal outtakes, the funk-jazz-hip hop death metal mixed with carnival effects, thrash riffs, sinister rumblings, cartoon voices, heavy breathing, and every nightmare you can imagine, all from the man at the helm of Faith No More's world domination - Mike Patton - sadist, magician, peeping tom and all-out weirdo....forget Slpiknot in their stupid masks making music for kids, Mr Bungle were doing the freakshow years before, and this debut record, although selling well due to massive interest from Faith No More fans, was something deeper, something out there, whether from the bowels of its toilet humour or the far corners of its shadiness, this was true weirdness, with sleeve artwork to die for, and an uncategorisable cauldron of sound that remained so catchy yet inaccessible.

Spaghetti western music fused with bubblegum pop, ska mixed with reggae-thrash, and track titles such as 'The Girls Of Porn', 'Squeeze Me Macaroni', and 'Dead Goon', cannot begin to describe the horrors that lurk within.

Truly twisted, truly genius, and will appeal to the serial killer, party magician, ice cream vendor and porn star within us all, this is a dark and eerie trek through the minds of zany characters who made music that made Frank Zappa seem run of the mill.

All hail Mr Bungle for a glorious blend of milkshake evil. Run while you can kids.

10/10

Samhain - November Coming Fire (1988)

I'm digging this, gloomy punkoid jack-o-lantern soundtrack, created by Glen Danzig who would go on to make even more evil sounds with Danzig. Samhain are still pretty mournful yet primal also, far slower than the Misfits, this is black heavy metal recorded in a dungeon, instrumental opener 'Diabolos 88' is a nocturnal ogre that drips ominously into the punky 'In My Grip, and pure gothic mayhem of 'Halloween II', all very sinister without giving too much away.

Blessed with a cover of pure metal imagery, this grim noise is worth checking out.

7/10

Deicide - Deicide (1990)

Frothing, furious and brutal death metal from Florida, that came with the reputation of seemingly unstable frontman Glen Benton and the nice inverted cross he'd scorched onto his forehead, and all in the name of Satan.

All seemed a bit of a novelty at the time but this is a rollicking good record, causing some severe hammer blows and never letting up for one second, even if it's evil-for-evil sake lyrics are somewhat predictable and lacking the intelligence or nastiness of some of the more alarming black metal bands.

It's all out war on the church here, the drums coming at quite a trigger pace, the guitars raging and Benton violently cackling into the mic, and with cuts like 'Lunatics Of God's Creation' you see why the band caused some controversy when they hit the road, but overall it's simply another death metal album, but a decent one at that amid much frothing controversy.

7.5/10

Primus - Frizzle Fry (1989)

Primus got lumped in with the annoying 'funk metal 'trend simply because of the astounding bass playing of quirky vocalist Les Claypool, but the reality is, Primus were very much an eccentric and unclassifiable three-piece who had more to do with Mr Bungle than the Chili Peppers brigade. 'Frizzle Fry' is at times hard work, a bubbling, freaked out and at times awkward sounding carnival of odds and ends that disjointedly piece together to resemble a patchwork quilt of seedy, vibrant and bouncing songs and tales that sound something akin to a cartoon soundtrack.

The band themselves are like asylum escapees leering from behind their instruments, twiddling away like sinister clowns awaiting to pounce whilst the music is a twisted concoction of hillbilly jazz, country fusion and circus groove, weaved together by the bass playing exploits of chief story teller Claypool.

Primus were good enough to escape from the novelty bracket of the time and forge an interesting career, but whether you can digest more than a few hours of such epileptic oddness is another thing.

Some humorous ditties on offer, and certainly a handful of lurking journeys into the dark heart of America, but for me too much of this caused a rash.

7/10

Atheist - Piece Of Time (1990)

A great time for death metal even if the scene was saturated in bands who for some reason all wanted a similar sound. Atheist were always a quality techno-thrash act, and 'Piece Of Time' was their arrival on the scene, a tight, efficient record bringing to mind the likes of Death with its sharp, choppy changes, intricate solo's and unconventional brutality.

In time the band would lose much of their aggression as they, like Death, Cynic, etc, paved a more complex route within the genre, but as a debut album this still chugs with the best of them, making Atheist somewhat a cult item for fans. At the time such a record may well have gotten swallowed up by the same sounding masses, but many years later it remains as vital record within the scene.

8/10

Carcass - Symphonies Of Sickness (1989)

The UK grindcore act's second opus after the sphincter rotting 'Reek Of...' debut, 'Symphonies...' is a gurgling, festering mess from Earache Records, bound to have you salivating, and vomiting,, and that's just the cover art work.

Carcass gave birth to the hideous gore metal scene where hordes of deranged bands attempted to produce the most sickening lyrics known to man, but Carcass were the leaders of the vile pack, lyrically they were demented pioneers, belching out words from medical dictionaries that somehow slopped around inside some tumorous cacophony that sounded like the very bowels of Hell being stirred.

This is death metal I guess, but with a huge degree of sludge, gore and depraved matter, at times combining a gurgling, garbled groove with undecipherable babbling, mid-tempo vomiting to speedier guffaw, still mesmerising all the same, and fortunately bereft of any of the cheesiness that saturated bands such as Cannibal Corpse. Carcass are true splatter and music for serial murderers everywhere. Warning, the cover art may put you off your dinner!

7/10

Funhouse - Generation Generator (1990)

Bit of an odd one this, the band's only album for Caroline Records is a somewhat mismatch, a funky, sleazy , yet disjointed technicolour cauldron which slipped by the wayside.

Record reviewer Martin Popoff claimed this band were a dead ringer for Mother Love Bone, I don't see it personally, in fact it's more a party record, all thirty minutes of it, that's over before an opinion can be made. Kinda like a fragile Guns 'n' Roses although the album got lumped in with the alterno-metal brigade, but 'Self Denial' is a mover, but the live cuts seem pointless, leading the listener to believe that maybe the band just didn't have the material to fill a record.

6/10

D.A.D. - No Fuel Left For The Pilgrims (1989)

Danish band attempting Hollywood sleaze rock, and doing a pretty good job, as well as mixing in a few AC/DC riffs for good measure. It's party rock but not as fragile as a majority of the technicolour booze bands, this one boasting several very good uptempo rockers, bringing to mind a weightier Faster Pussycat, and the likes.

Particular favourites are the ballsy and catchy 'Sleeping My Day Away', the stomping 'Rim Of Hell' and sleazy 'Point Of View'.

You could do a lot worse than this, in fact it's bit of gem really.

7.5/10

Godflesh - Streetcleaner (1989)

This has all the oily sludge of a desolate coal mine, black in its facade and billowing putrid, grey smoke into the crumbling Heaven's. Godflesh, the grim depiction of satanic Britain, where industrial buildings smoke, creak and rust, wire fences rattle in the harsh winds, and ruinous machinery gradually corrodes into the poisoned soil. This is a clanging, heavyweight monster of a record, like a shambling cage dropped from a great height and spilling forth a contents of sewer rats, broken engine parts and some salivating, gargantuan beast with cogs for eyes and corrugated iron instead of flesh.

The sculptures the band and their drum machine create are predictably grim, a degree of repetition and distortion just to make us realise that the unpretty landscape we see is never going to get much better.

'Streetcleaner', put simply, is a furnace.

7/10

Love/Hate - Blackout In The Redroom (1990)

Wow, what a record, and let's forget Guns 'n' Roses ever existed. This blows the whole sleaze metal genre out of the water, delivering itself like a truck of whiskey to the brain, full on party tunes to decimate the venue and leave the crowd sweating blood.

Love/Hate, superb band, 'nuff said...pure rock 'n' roll mayhem, authentic straight down the line music that plays it simple yet plays it for real.

Jizzy Pearl has a raw set of tonsils that scream from the speakers, and there's no letting up, anthems galore, the title track hitting you in the face, greasing you up and leaving you for dead, but you'll get up for more because this has such balls, and front.

'She's An Angel' is schizophrenic, a heartfelt tale that pumps and then sits before ripping your teeth out, 'Why Do You Think they Call It Dope ?', sounds silly but it rocks big time, Skid's bass bouncing, bringing to mind a more sobre Faith No More, with elements of AC/DC buzz riffs, and the sleaze of a whole genre, even early Crue.

The tracks come out you relentlessly, and after this assault you'll wonder just why this band weren't massive.

9/10

Kingdom Come - In Your Face (1989)

The debut album was Led Zeppelin all over...and this is no different, it's European cock-rock that lacks originality, attempts at a swagger, and is big on the bluesy riffs, and in fact it's actually quite good at times, 'Do You Like It', is a full-on body-mover, although crooner Lenny Wolf can't stop the Robert Plant imitation, down to the leather strides, but it's not just a sickening copycat, but instead good time rock 'n' roll record, even if there are a few riffs on there stolen from the Zep's back catalogue.

I only heard this record and most of the self-titled debut, but at the time accusations, allegedly even from Robert Plant, were flying furiously at Kingdom Come for their plagiarism, but when looking back, you'll find it's not that unusual for so many bands to imitate their heroes, and I've never been one to moan about such fakery as long as what's on offer is decent to the ears, and this is.

7/10

Cinderella - Long Cold Winter (1988)

Not exactly brain-shatteringly unique, Cinderella, are rather straight forward bluesy/sleaze metal, grainy vocals courtesy of Tommy Keifer, and a country twang that attempts to bring to mind some of England's finest ballsiest '60s and '70s sleaze acts, i.e. Stones, Faces.

'Gypsy Road' was the main hit here, a boogie train down the beaten track, giving the listener an overwhelming feeling of deja-vu, but then again, alot of the '80s hair bands offered similar unoriginal swayings, but Cinderella, although at times annoying, did offer some glimpses on here of some half-decent records, 'Falling Apart At The Seams' and, 'The Last Mile', but this is more false rock 'n' roll rather than genuine balls to the wall brawn.

7/10

Death Angel -The Ultraviolence (1987)

These Bay area were thrashers were merely young teen's when they spewed out this fast-paced mini-classic, leaving many elder statesmen of the scene hanging their heads in shame.

Death Angel were always one of the finest thrash bands around, their music a blend of refreshing speed and razor-sharp melody that didn't just lumber with the usual heavy crunch going on at the time.

Admittedly, this is raw, primal speed metal but there is a complex quality to the record that was only a hint at what was to come from the next two studio releases.

I was never a sucker for a majority of the Bay Area bands but Violence, Mordred and Death Angel, for me anyway, stood head and shoulders above the rest, cult acts who deserve appreciation forever.

8/10

Kik Tracee - No Rules (1991)

Music such as this should make bands such as Guns 'n' Roses question their own ability, but then again, bands as cool as Kik Tracee don't get anywhere anyway, whilst G 'n' R and the likes become bloated soap opera's.

'No Rules' is big-time rock, boasting production values matched only by Crue's 'Dr Feelgood', this has all the swagger and hip-shaking arrogance that was also displayed by Saigon Kick, Love/Hate and Mother Love Bone.

This is at times sleazy, sometimes and a bit sprayed up in the hair department, but don't let that put you off, because this is thunder rock that makes Kiss and the likes seem like a basement band who should be ashamed of their achievements.

Saigon Kick is probably the nearest comparison to this record, it's a clever, all out party record but it has a vision and a huge amount of attitude, mainly in the lungs of vocalist Steven Shareaux, who one moment is heavy metal whore, the next, glam rock god, check out the oomph of 'You're So Strange' and the mouth-watering 'Big Western Sky'.

Naturally, this record is so good that it flopped in the sales department, people at the time were probably too busy listening to their Poison albums to take on something so intelligent, but miss this at your peril because although short-lived, Kik Tracee live long in the memory as fabulous rock.

8/10

Death - Spritual Healing (1990)

Death move away from the gory yarns and standard death metal rantings to produce this, their first textural opus which set new standards in the genre, and spawning several acts who took it upon themselves to record outings of a very complex nature, check out Cynic and Atheist for example.

Again, a different line-up, but 'Spiritual...' shows a maturity beyond what most death metal bands could ever exhibit, and whilst the riffs are still heavyweight and Chuck's identifiable gasps remain audible, this is a far more of an intricate slab, academically pursuing greater knowledge instead of tales of grisly murders and the rise of the rotten undead.

Death were always the kings of their field, but at times their quests, or should I say Chuck's visions, were always a little alienating for your average death metal freak who craved simple riffs to headbang to as well as that mystical and horrible imagery which so many death metal bands bestowed upon us. However, Chuck did what he liked, hence the fact that his band (whoever was privileged enough to be there) knew no boundaries and took death metal to another level.

8.5/10

Mother Love Bone - Apple (1990)

As the Seattle 'grunge' scene exploded, Mother Love Bone shone like a beacon. Far more than just another fad, they were the new rock 'n' roll kings and in vocalist Andrew wood there swaggered a new rock love child for the masses. The potential, the dreams and the visions were sadly unfulfilled as on the eve of the bands release of 'Apple', Wood died of a heroin overdose at the age of 24.

So, what did Wood leave behind ? Well, behind the mysticism of the usual, 'live fast die young' rock way of life, Wood was an exceptional vocalist, flamboyant, humble, glorious and beautiful, with a voice somewhere between Robert Plant and perfumed glam soul, and the Mother Love Bone sound was a vibrant mixture of drug-induced funk glam rock, at times sleazy and oozing, at other moments majestic and sad. For a debut album, 'Apple' is monstrous, and whilst there have been some wonderful debut albums reviewed here, 'Apple' is possibly the finest ever, something far more glittery than the usual Seattle grime, something that inspires yet takes its influence from all manner of extravagant artists, notably Freddie mercury, Marc Bolan and Led Zeppelin, but this record is no mere pastiche, but instead a completely satisfying and bombastic trip that sheds tears from its piano chords, rumbles in its rolling riffs and sways in the wind as Wood, poetically dances like a fleeting ghost from the embers of what could have been.

I could easily fill a whole blog with accolades for what 'Apple' means to me, but to anyone who hasn't experienced its delights, I can only suggest you pick up a copy now and become one with its caressing, sweaty and angelic sound, because as debut records go, this achieves in its sound what most bands could never achieve in a long career.

'Apple' may well have been a beautiful accident, a bit like some of the tracks on Saigon Kick's debut record, but the fact that such an album never reached the status it should have also slips Mother Love Bone into that criminally ignored pigeon-hole where Enuff Z Nuff, Saigon Kick, Kik Tracee and the likes dwell.

'This Is Shangrila' is pure funk strut built on a diamond riff, but it's Wood who drifts effortlessly between catty yowls and poetic majesty, the lyrics being pure dynamite, from tearful love songs and rock 'n' roll Babylon, to self-indulgent and ominous self-pity. The hype you may have read about the past through the whispers of Pearl Jam who rose from the ashes of MLB, were all true. Forget Pearl Jam, forget Nirvana, Mother Love Bone were the real thing, but as the lyrics say, "...dreams like this must die".

'Stardog Champion' is an anthem, a glam rock semi-ballad that melts into the more upbeat 'Holy Roller', the musicianship of Gossard, Ament, Gilmore and Fairweather the perfect backdrop for Wood's shapes, shadows and fragile croons.

'Bone China', is a mellow classic which builds into a summery anthem, it's nothing short of extraordinary, a timeless piece of music that is rivalled by the genial 'Stargazer', here are tracks already that set the heart a flutter and bring a lump to the throat, but it's the two major ballads that put MLB on another planet.

'Man Of Golden Words' is heartbreaking, a beautiful serenade that sees Wood casting self-doubt whilst at the same time climbing to the top of the world to shake his feather boa, and whilst in-between we get more elegance and glam groove, 'Crown Of Thorns', best heard emerging from 'Chloe Dancer' has to be 0ne of the greatest songs ever written, effortlessly rising and touching the clouds, making 'Apple' just ridiculously perfect, putting MLB in their own field of dreams, away from the rest of any scene that may be going on beneath them.

There's no a weak track on here, there's not even a pretty good track on here, for each cut in its own right fits together, making 'Apple' a moment in time yet something so wonderfully timeless.

Words can't really describe the magic of this record, or the charisma and presence of Andrew Wood who lives on today, not just in the memories of the fans, but in this breathtaking recording.

10/10