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

Paradise Lost - Gothic (1991)

Slow-motion UK doom from some rusted dungeon, although the band would cast aside their shackles eventually become a more polished, and highly successful dark rock act, although I always preferred this kind of torturous rumblings.
‘Gothic’, alongside the early work of Cathedral, remains as a heavy slab of suffocating metal, Nick Holmes vocals are merely sludgy yawns, the music an almost dreary, tuneless drone, painting bleak pictures of black forests and wet soil before slipping into the darkness like some cumbersome serpent.
Smell the damp and forever dwell in the misery that is prime British doom metal.
7/10

Sepultura - Arise (1991)

My favourite Sepultura record, although the follow-up ‘Chaos A.D.’ and mighty ‘Roots’ run it pretty close, but ‘Arise’ is pure death metal the Brazilian way, fast, furious, tribal and angry, but done with the pile-driving melody and heavyweight arrogance which ‘Beneath The Remains’ sadly lacked. Igor is full throttle on the drums, proving to be the ultimate contender for Dave Lombardo’s lofty throne in Slayer, but on ‘Arise’ his thuddings take on a new dimension, giving the record a gloomy backbeat as the riffs pile into the ears like corpses spilling from mass graves.
Title cut ‘Arise’ matches Slayer in its building aggression and sinister atmospheres, whilst ‘Dead Embryonic Cells’ and ‘Altered State’ reduce buildings to ash and instantly become death metal classics.
Sepultura certainly have their own sound, Cavalera’s hoarse vocals not merely just some insane ranting, but instead harsh demonstrations and violent cries.
For many, ‘Arise’ was the band’s very own ‘Reign In Blood’, and although I wouldn’t compare the two records at all, ‘Arise’ is certainly worthy of living in the shadow of Slayer’s masterpiece.
8.5/10

Alice In Chains - Facelift (1990)

Dark and moody ‘grunge’ metal, the other irritating heavy scene to spawn from metal’s arse. At times clever, sometimes stoned, often drowning in that Sub-Pop sludge bucket of mess, ‘Facelift’ is unclean, yet catchy in its mumblings, Layne Stayley the new voice on the block, kicking around with Nirvana, Soundgarden, Pearl Jam and the likes as rock takes on a bigger head, a refreshing twist that resigns the ‘80s glam and dark metal days to its grave. Suddenly, bands are striding in their droves from Seattle, alternative metal is on the up, and despite the scene becoming saturated in imitators and no-hopers, a select few emerged from the cesspit, ‘Facelift’ being one of those murky, obscure and dense sounding offerings, which, when standing alone remains a classy if sluggish journey, but with Seattle at the time spawning more offspring by the week, bands such as Alice In Chains sprung up the corporate ladder to fame and fortune, and on cuts such as ‘Man In The Box’ you can see why, although such a record is a little too sleepy for continuous play.

7/10

Morbid Angel - Altars Of Madness (1989)

Quality Floridian death metal, but not in the same vain as much of the other same-sounding American sludge, these guys instead opting for bombastic yet equally hellish noise, barking courtesy of one of my favourite death vocalists, David Vincent.
What Morbid Angel offer which many other bands of this ilk don’t is difficult to pin-down but the twisted riffs and stormy vocals add a kind of wicked and psychotic atmosphere, even if the titles are rather cheesy, ‘Chapel Of Ghouls’, ‘Maze Of Torment’, etc, etc, but this is pure unholy cacophony, similar in vein to the debut album Deicide which also frothed in the right places, both records coming across like some billowing storm which you cannot help but be caught up in.
Although this was the follow-up to the band’s more removed black metal opus, with Vincent on board, ‘Altars…’ hit the scene as an immensely arrogant and thrashing serpent.
8/10

Corrosion Of Conformity - Blind (1991)

The early days of this cult band were those of thrashy hardcore but in 1991 ‘Blind’ emerged like some gigantic sea beast flopping out of the water and then proceeding to devour all in its wake as metal travelled new avenues, bands such as Soundgarden making real headway, and the world ready for this kind of bruising metal.
This owes a lot to the likes of Trouble, Sabbath and Metallica, yet still is able to stamp its own authority, vocalist Karl Agell (who only appeared on this record) coming across like a wonderfully everflowing power frontman, the band grinding out their politically-strewn anthems amidst some seriously heavy grooves, putting them, for a short while in the spotlight as their hymns for the estranged rise and rise.
Strangely, it’s ‘Vote With A Bullet’, complete with Trouble-esque pounding, and featuring guitarist Pepper Keenan on vox, that shines, a glowing glimpse into what was to come, but although slightly overlong, the record rocks, owing its rifferama to Tony Iommi, some serious grooves winding their way through the wax here, ‘Damned For All Time’ booming across the horizon, and ‘Mine Are The Eyes Of God’ swaggering like Goliath.
This is a truly huge record from a criminally ignored band.
9/10

Slayer - Seasons In The Abyss (1990)

With the bowels of Hell still vomiting black smoke from the wrecking machine that was the vile ‘South Of Heaven’, the band somehow manage this time to cross the pitch, cold visions of that record with the intensity and blood-soaked abomination of ‘Reign…’, ‘Seasons…’ in turn being the last great Slayer album and the also, rather tragically, the last, up until 2006’s ‘Christ Illusion’, to feature legendary sticksman Dave Lombardo. We won’t go into why the guy departed the band, except to say that without this thunder Slayer became a far lesser band.
‘Seasons…’ is purtid, astonishing, drenched in sin, and ultra-heavy, raging on opener ‘War Ensemble’, the group casually bringing back those violent ‘Reign In Blood’ pinnacles as Tom screams and rasps like a demonic priest, in turn his spit-filled tones derailed by King and Hanneman’s twin strike, wild solo’s careering off into the ether like spasmodic missiles.
Ten songs on offer, each and every one a riotous classic, managing to chug yet batter, and then speed up like some murderous rollercoaster, spiralling into the darkest tunnels where the true horrors lurk. War ravaged cities where the charred dead smoke under the pallid sky, serial killers preying on hapless victims, and in the immense title track and album closer, at first creeping with sinister motion then flattening the wounded, melting into a truly accessible chorus, and that’s the whole key with Slayer, their mightiest moments not merely being evil noise-fests but somehow managing a melody that embeds itself in the brain like a parasite. ‘Skeletons Of Society’ is another of those infectious tunes where the flames flicker and dance in the distance, but it’s the sprawling, seedy ‘Dead Skin Mask’ that causes the most fear, made all the more hideous by the calm, cold and arrogant chorus.
In between these classics there are more to get your fangs into, monstrous thrash assaults, black passages of act, war-torn anthems for the thrashers.
‘Seasons…’ is a leviathan. The last word in thrash. The last great Slayer album cover too 10/10

Red Hot Chili Peppers - Mother's Milk (1989)

Long before metal got funky, and sickly, the Red Hot Chili Peppers were playin’ their freaky styley sound of slap bass jams, cartoon capers and spasmodic soul, and for me ‘Mothers Milk’ is their finest record, several years before they became the favourite band of many an uncle and coated the airwaves like an all too sugary icing.
‘Mothers…’ weaves, bobs, ducks, cavorts, grooves and sways, huge doses of metallic Parliament, Funkadelic and streetwise soul, bubbled up by Flea’s jumbled bass and Anthony Keidis, zany frontman into pulling faces and slipping between choppy raps and smooth tones.
At the time there appeared to be a bit of a rivalry between RHCP and innovators Faith No More, but FNM rose above the sickly sweet stench of funked up rock and delivered their poison to blacken the pristine quilt of alterno-rock.
The Peppers would go on to become one of the world’s biggest rock acts, but this is the record where it started despite some fine moments on their earlier releases. ‘Taste The Pain’ is the pivotal cut, a strutting, quirky tune, but the variety on offer here is at least authentic funk, not some bandwagon-surfing, suped up imitation. ‘Knock Me Down’ is a driving Hendrix soul anthem, ‘Sexy Mexican Maid’ a sultry number, but randomly pick out any smouldering groove on here and you’ll at once bathe in the funk and also want to make passionate luurrvv!

7.5/10

I Love You - I Love You (1991)

Why did major label Geffen, the home of Guns ‘n’ Roses, sign bands such as I Love You, who were surely destined to fail despite writing tunes that were years ahead of anything else ? I Love You were never gonna sell like Guns ‘n’ Roses, and neither were Warrior Soul, but they were far more talented than the bigger acts on the label, I Love You just too clever for their own good providing a lazy yet dark grunge rock with haunting melodies and obscure meaning, all the while mixing a bit of Zeppelin with Soundgarden, a sleazy groove at times and then something wistful, all enticing stuff from a band who only lasted two albums during that ill-fated period, but then I guess at least during that strange time some of us were indeed privileged to hear such wondrous bands, it’s just a shame that this bluesy, casual yet alarmingly intelligent band couldn’t reach the airwaves, but I just don’t think it was ever meant to be.
File alongside Last Crack, Liquid Jesus etc.

Strange name, cool band.

7.5/10