Corrosion Of Conformity - In The Arms Of God (2005)

For me, C.O.C.'s 'Blind', 'Deliverance' and 'Wiseblood' were some of metal's most monolithic records. 'Americas Volume Dealer' slightly more mellow and stripped down, disappointed majorly so how would 'In The Arms...' fair. Well, the gargantuan Sabbath riffs are back, 'It Is That Way' is pure juggernaut metal, Keenan's more vicious vocal delivery opposes the more casual/cool delivery on 'Deliverance'. Meanwhile 'Dirty Hands...' writhes like a concrete serpent. As usual, the band muster several mellower tracks, mingling a dirty blues with flaky hardcore, all the while enabling the band to sift between styles without restriction.

C.O.C. were certainly one of the first, and coolest bands to try the weightier sounds of say Metallica and Sabbath, but still cross it with an alterno-metal that would also attract fans of say Faith No More. The raging electric blues of 'Infinite War' may crumble the castle, whereas 'So Much Left Behind' follows a trippier, more soulful route.

One of metal's most criminally underrated acts, and although it seems cooler that way, any band that can reinvent the timeless noise created by Sabbath, must surely be high on the list of essential bands for any metalhead to lend his ears to. The druggy 'Crown Of Thorns' wouldn't seem out of place on 'Sabotage' or 'Volume 4' and the album ends with the drum tumble of the title cut. Sadly however, despite numerous listens, I don't hear the cutting energy or innovation of 'Deliverance', and still prefer the metallic grooves of 'Blind'.

I don't think C.O.C. have gone down hill, but those clutch of classy records were hard to better and 'Americas Volume...' did them no favours. Even so, C.O.C. remain a mystifying force, almost elusive in their ice cool drone, they seem forever condemned to the pit of 'cult', knowing full well that their lazy talent has been recognised, but just not often enough. Frustratingly, this type of sludge may also require the listener to roll up a fat joint before lending an ear, and as that's something I'm not inclined to do, C.O.C. fail to move me anymore.

7/10

Pantera - Cowboys From Hell (1990)

I purchased the Texan combo's third record (the first two, 'Projects From The Jungle' and 'Metal Magic' of no real note) after a degree of hype but failed to be moved by it. Sure, Dimebag Darrell ended up a guitar god as his axe spews forth countless masterful, lead weight riffs, and of course Mr Anselmo at the helm kinda chews on James Hetfield's delivery and spits it out with more of a wolfen drool. 'Cowboys...' is considered the start of Pantera's metal domination, a band who single handedly pulled metal through the '90s whilst the genre succumbed to the grunge blues. Even so, this is a band you either love or hate and I'm stuck somewhere towards the latter....I'm sure some of you out there in the metal void will be cursing me for saying it, but there was something about Pantera that didn't work for me. Was it the purity of its aggression and the fact it didn't need to rely on Satan or hairspray to boost sales ? Maybe. I won't deny the heavy grooves on offer, the title cut bounces then leaps high before crunching down into the skull, and 'Psycho Holiday', with its now familiar guitar assault, bruises the soul. However, it was as if Pantera's emergence signified the end of straight up Satanic-influenced metal. 'Cowboys...' followed by the even heavier 'Vulgar Display Of Power' kind of saw in a new generation of metal terrorist's who appeared to be more muscle than leather. Maybe I'm being protective over the history of theatrical metal, and will certainly nod to Mr Anselmo for his obsession with many of metal's classic, and Satanic influenced bands. Even so, the cold battery of 'Primal Concrete Sledge', the chug-a-chug of 'Domination', and similarly brutal 'Heresy' stoked no fire's in my mind. Maybe I just didn't get it, but the Priest obsessed 'Shattered' gave off an air of cold steel against the skin. Whilst the remaining cuts all followed in a similar, ravaging vein, all fuelled by Anselmo's cut-throat vocal assault, I found myself unphased by it, hesitant to take my shirt off, pretend I had muscles and swig down a beer in one.

It's certainly manly metal, 'The Art Of Shredding' and 'The Sleep' all muscular in their raging and flexing, but I'm left behind in the shadows of '80s metal, refusing to shave my head and tattoo my soul for the sake of a new brand of metal that would strike deadly during the '90s. Atrocious cover too.

7/10

Black Sabbath - Heaven And Hell (1980)

When you consider just how frequent, even with upheaval in between, Sabbath churned out their records, you can only marvel and stand in awe at the sheer brilliance with which each one crashes you in the cranium. This is the first Sab's record without banshee-king Ozzy, and yet it's one that continues to drive Sabbath forward into the dark pits of Hades.

Iommi did the unthinkable by quickly getting over the effects of last Ozzy opus 'Never Say Die' and bringing in Ronnie James Dio. The result - the supersonic assault of 'Neon Nights', one of the bands most enigmatic and magical pieces of doom fantasy, followed by the wicked epic 'Children Of The Sea'. Iommi's rumbling riffs continue to decimate and the percussion sees the band casting lightning bolts into the ocean of blackness. The groove fuzz of 'Lady Evil' my favourite cut of the album, a serpentine sloth with glinting eye that drifts into the thudding title cut and spiralling 'Wishing Well'.

Eight tracks of prehistoric gloom, fantasy and magic, like no other. A new era indeed, and sadly Bill Ward's last album, but what a way to end.

8.5/10

Black Sabbath - Mob Rules (1981)

After the doom smog created by Ozzy and company, it's hard to imagine a latter decade of Sabbath, but if one man was going to keep the flame alive then Ronnie James Dio was it. Sure, I worshipped Ozzy and most of the records he recorded with Sabbath remain unsurpassed. However, 'Mob Rules', and the previous 'heaven And Hell' are still metal master classes holding devil horns high and conjuring storms like no other. 'Turn Up The Night' and 'Voodoo' display Dio's magical vocal talents as he delves into dark tales of witchery and doom-ridden landscapes. The monstrous 'The Sign Of The Southern Cross' floats effortlessly on Iommi's wistful acoustics, conjuring images of diabolical villages riddled with witchcraft.

'Mob Rules' DOES lack Ozzy's maniacal presence, but 'The Mob Rules' still, despite Iommi's more melodic guitar epics, crushes trees under its elephantine feet. Appice on the sticks rattles the roof, and the gloom doom stomp of 'Country Girl' sends the ravens all a flutter. It's still Sabbath, just not as black, but it's a natural progression even if the Dio years were short. Album closer 'Over And Over' is a true Sabbath masterpiece, gargantuan as it rises from the soil like some concrete golem intent on destroying all in its wake.

Although the Ozzy years cemented Sabbath as metal's greatest band don't be put off by his lack of wail on the following couple of records because Mr Dio (RIP) does a mighty find job of bringing the goblins along to the party in the dark.

8/10

Vinnie Vincent Invasion - All Systems Go (1988)

Dana Strum's bass plods into action, Vincent's guitars fizz, and Slaughter's screech shatters glass...yep, all welcome to another VV work out within the depths of the '80s. the occasional anthem blessed with Vincent's dazzling solo's, whilst the rest of the band seem to take a bit of a back seat to the main main. Nothing blows the mind, but the slow, slightly pensive 'That Time Of The Year' has hair flicking in the wind, and believe me, when you see the band photo, there's much hair to be flicking! Still, some old school metal on offer once again, the bubblegum strut of 'Ecstasy', and slinkin' remotely Zeppish 'Ashes To Ashes' reminds me not of how cool this stuff is in a fleeting way, but just how many bands in the '80s were churning out this kind of slightly perfumed rock 'n' roll.

So, powder the cheeks, and get that 'Dirty Rhythm' one last time.

6/10

Megadeth - Countdown To Extinction (1992)

Certainly one of the last great metal album's to emerge as the genre gradually bowed down to the irritating march of grunge and alterno-anarchy. For me, 'Rust...' and 'Peace Sells...' ARE Megadeth's finest record's but for different reasons. 'Rust...' was a super-charged display of technical brilliance, whereas 'Peace...' conjured up dark images amongst its sneery musings. 'Countdown...' sees the band slowing down, but remaining heavy and far more cool than Anthrax and Metallica. Dave Mustaine is bang on form, his vocal attack one of the most recognisable in metal as his rusty spit wields together Megadeth's punchy, vibrant and pummelling sound. Musically this is a truly devastating record, superbly produced, and elevating the genre of thrash to new levels' as the band now reach a maturity to suggest that this should really be as valid stadium rock as anything more chart friendly.

The album is full of Megadeth classics, the squirming 'Symphony Of Destruction' complete with mammoth chorus which sticks in your head immediately. Each instrument on the opus shining through, reminding me of the precision once spewed out by more progressive acts, whilst the mechanics of the record recalls priest at their most intricate and furious. 'Foreclosure Of A Dream' is effortlessly monolithic, but it's back to thrash mania with 'Skin O' My Teeth' and chugger 'This Was My Life'.

Hard to fault a record with so many notable moments. Megadeth remaining a dominant force but never (unlike Metallica) selling out or losing their thrash facade.

Megadeth were never really part of a scene as such, for they, like Slayer (well, Slayer's classic records) stand alone as metal giants who with such ease batter the alleged opposition with complexity and self-confidence that most band's can only dream of.

9/10

Vinni Vincent Invasion - Vinnie Vincent Invasion (1986)

A web of solo's, a network of masturbatory guitars...a glam metal galaxy of pompous posing...and I quite like it. From its very metal yet simple cover design, to the occasionally hip-shaking grooves on offer, VV assembles a crack team to strut out some volumised hair metal. Vincent is a top shredder, keen to splash this almost mundane record with his licks, chops and twiddling's whilst the vocal attack is more of a high-pitched, spandex too tight rasp. Of course, hundreds of similar bands emerged at the time, creating none too dazzling album's but occasionally boasting a guitar star or sex god hero to boot. It fails to blow down any doors, 'Shoot U Full Of Love' is standard cheese give or take a few cool guitar moments, whilst 'Animal' is a vamped up Kiss. However, despite my many grievances, I still refuse to dismiss such a record as poppy-cock because on many a dark night such a record would be lowered onto the turntable, and with candle light and stereo-light merging as one, and the lights of the city dimming, '...Invasion' still becomes a reasonably glitzy journey into an rather uneventful back alley that takes you back to the heyday of '80s rocking.

6/10

Sacred Reich - Ignorance (1987)

A bit of a cult classic in thrash circles, the Arizona thrashers leaning slightly towards a hardcore feel on this political barrage. A debut of nine tracks and cool sleeve artwork, front and back, inner complete with band shot, the wax brim full of heavy, chugging thrash which slotted coolly alongside the likes of Holy Terror, Nuclear Assault and DRI. Sacred Reich are almost unidentifiable by Phil Rind's choppy vocal attack and thudding bass, and guitar attack of Wiley and drum boom of Greg Hall.

It's accessible thrash but a record of some weight. The most impressive detail being its ability to mosh hard. 'Victim Of Demise', 'Administrative Decision' and 'Rest In Peace' are not mega fast outing's but instead Sacred Reich concentrate on heavy rhythm. The hefty approach of 'Ignorance', even many, many years later gives the listener an idea of just how great the thrash scene of the '80s was, whether it was from the Bay Area, or the other side of the world.

7/10

W.A.S.P. - The Headless Children (1989)

It's weird y'know cos' I adore early W.A.S.P. but 'The Headless...' passed me by at the time. Was it the almost clean cut image of the band on the back ? Or the seemingly non-W.A.S.P. cover, bereft of theatrical chainsaw, blood and red, raw horror. The whole record has a pretty commercial look and feel to it, or maybe it was just the band maturing from the heyday of leather pants and fireworks exploding from the crotch. However, many years later, I slap this on the turntable and I get chills down the spine. Blackie's drool gets me every time, a dramatic commentary over Holmes' cool, waspish riffs. The songs are as equally anthemic as classics of the past. 'The Heretic' is meaty, dark and drowned in classic W.A.S.P. cacophony and blessed with some eerie mechanics, something which W.A.S.P. would utilise a few years later as they experimented with more industrial terror noises.

Many have put W.A.S.P. in that cheesy metal bracket but fuck that, W.A.S.P. write quality heavy metal tunes of fire, frost and Gothic darkness. Even the cover of The Who's 'Real Me' is adequate although I would've rather have seen it towards the end of the record, but the title cut is a monster. A real mature W.A.S.P. in action. Mind you, the band still get dirty on 'Maneater' and hit track 'Mean Man', whilst 'Forever Free' soars like all metal anthem's should. Hard to knock a band who consistently churn out such dramatic metal. I've always loved these guys, and 'The Headless...' is another heavy metal album stuffed to the brim with thunder and black, fiery eyed abandonment. Although slightly more plot focused than the previous records, 'The Headless...' is still a melodramatic beast angry at the world and drenched in Blackie's vocal sneer.

8/10

Underneath What - What Is It (1989)

Gothic-psych rock overtones on this debut by the three-piece Brit rockers. I'm not buying the alterno, raining backdrop of this seemingly gloomy, muddy indie trip. 'Firebomb Telecom' provided the act with a minor hit, but it's neither here nor there through its art-groove clanking that reeks of a mouldy basement. Kinda patchouli infused soft-rock that has its' own in-joke which the band clearly have no intention of letting out. It exists in the fog of some '80s Goth club with the occasional grunge-soaked riff thrown in. It's all inoffensive, moribund and refuses to swagger. 'Like An Animal' may hold a handful of black flowers but it's as clever and as innovative as some kind of dreary art-school project leaving me underwhelmed and glad I only paid a quid for it. The naff song titles, the dreary forecast and watery vocal delivery, relegates this record to the racks of one of those cheap vinyl outlets whose stock never rotates because no-one goes in there in case they are left with a sooty residue on their finger tips after combing through similar records. You probably don't know what I mean, and I'm sure Underneath What may say the same, but this is just fluffy nonsense. Nice cover flatters to deceive.

5/10

Cats In Boots - Kicked And Klawed (1989)

Well, it's Faster Pussycat but slightly less classy. Too many bands of this ilk and era were pretty false and dire, however Cats In Boots offer a slightly more edgier sound. I'm unsure why so many sleaze rock acts used references to cats, and despite the rather dab cover and almost staged band poses on the back of the sleeve, Cats In Boots have a little something extra in the locker to make sure they aren't completely ignored as just another whiskey drinkin', cowboy boot wearin' hairspray act. The main reason why I dig this opus is down to the sharp guitar of Takashi O' Hashi who pulls out a killer riff on album opener 'Shot Gun Sally'. Sure the album is full of cliches but there are some half-decent tunes on this platter.

The token rowdy capers are in abundance, inciting bar room brawling and alcohol fuelled stumbling, and that's why the Cats do the scene a few favours with their ability to keep the party in full swing. 'Her Monkey', 'Whip It Out' and 'Bad Boys Are Back' snipe with relative safety behind the cigarette smoke clouds.

The fact that I expected a lot less makes 'Kicked...' a nice little surprise. Whether it's all real we'll never know, but with hundreds of bands saturating the scene at the time, Cats In Boots go a little way in entertaining rather than leaving me choking on the cheese.

6.5/10

Crazy Lixx - New Religion (2010)

The Swedish sleaze metal scene has been all a buzz for a few years now, personally, I find it all a bit unoriginal with the exception of a handful of bands who have a little bit more bite than most. Crazy Lixx win no prizes for originality, but what they do possess is the ability to take '80s glam/sleaze rock, and freshen it up a little even if they rely heavily on all the old cliches to pull them through. The problem with a 'scene' of course is that one can be drowned in its constant flow of bands striving for a crown which was claimed decades previous. However, I can understand the lure of the scene, with the hairspray image, the cigarettes, alcohol, and Hollywood romanticism, although I doubt whether many bands out there today are playing the game with any sincerity.

Even so, Crazy Lixx offer a loose brand of sleaze metal which reminds me a great deal of Skid Row ('21 Til I die') mixed with flashes of Def Leppard and their scarf waving love anthem's. 'My Medicine...' may have a few people reaching for the Off button once they hear those Joe Elliot-inspired harmonies, but it's all good fun in the same way Crash Diet puked out their derivative style, but again, if it's done with sincerity it's okay by me. Naturally, such bands may provoke one to reach for the original classics from the '80s which still reek of JD and hairspray. Crazy Lixx, I hope, will introduce new metal fans to the great bands of old, and I'm sure that via slow-burner 'Children Of The Cross' and token ballad 'What Of Our Love', fans will get to appreciate the days of old and perceive acts such as Crazy Lixx as worshipper's of a scene which once ruled the world. It may not be Faster Pussycat, but it's fun.

7/10

Death Angel - Killing Season (2009)

Holy smoke, the boys are back in town but there's not much left of the Bay Area scene since metal died a tragic death in the mid-'90s after the grunge invasion. However, Death Angel leave their own brand of wreckage and bring back the good ol' days with this furious, crunchy, and bass heavy thrash work out. I have to admit that I wasn't a big admirer of their previous effort, all this comeback talk usually ends in disappointment and with thrash making a comeback I always tended to slink away to the darkest corner and dig out my old albums rather than lend an ear to any new generation terrorist's, but so, once again, it proves that it's better the Devil you know as Death Angel, one of the world's most underrated bands, churn out another mini-classic.

Okay, so we're never going to get the days of wayback...er...back, but those first three records were just wonderfully crafted classics, but 'Killing Season' combines the frantic energy of 'The Ultraviolence', with the mature complexity of 'Frolic...', and the flowing diversity of 'Act III'. This album, despite going for the throat from the outset, is still groove-based, in fact DA, whatever genre you lump them in, were always too good to be classed as just a thrash act. For me, these guys and Mordred were the kings of the realm, way ahead of their time, but just too cool to exist in the end, but boy do they make bands like Metallica seem a joke.

The thrash frenzy of 'Carnival Justice' jolts the system, 'The Noose' features some intricate and impressive guitars but it's 'When World's Collide' which, for me anyway, provides the greatest pleasure, a jerking, soulful, yet heavy thrasher which proves as to why DA were always high in the big league of thrash acts. Sure, they never had the backing of say, Anthrax, but these guys, pound for pound were the most nimble, deft, complex, yet downright furious of any thrash act back in the day. The raw energy still shines through on this record, and bu the time the final number drops its bomb, you'll be heading straight back into the war zone for another taste of DA's memorable thrash.

8/10

Crucified Barbara - In Distortion We Trust (2006)

I didn't know a lot about these girlie's, but let me introduce you to Nicki Wicked, Klara Force, Ida Evileye and Mia Coldheart...and boy do they make a racket. This is full-on punky metal, no weak spots, but full tilt rock 'n' roll from the throat. Some have said that Crucified Barbara (admittedly, not a good name) are a mix of The Ramones and L7, but I'd say they are far heavier and chaotic. There's nothing bubblegum about this four-piece who seem intent on melting the speakers with their fiery brand of rock.

There's no let up from the fuzz, filth and fury as 'Motorfucker' scorches the soul, 'I Wet Myself' lubricates the engine, and 'I Need A Cowboy From Hell' leaves a smoke trail. This is no novelty rock band but an all consuming experience that'll leave your bones rattling. It'll be worth keeping an eye on these new queens of the damned. For so long rock promises sexy femme fatale's and heart vixen's only to greet us with lame, watered down pornstars with no attitude or talent. However, Crucified Barbara lay it on the line, raise the bar leave cracks in the ceiling. Worth checking out if you like it aggressive. And of course, it helps that they are sexy too!

7.5/10