Lizzy Borden - Menace To Society (1986)

Lizzy Borden belongs at the core of metal. His various ghoulish guises may never have reached the heights of the likes of W.A.S.P. and Twisted Sister, but as theatrical, full-blooded metal goes, there's not much better. You DO know what to expect though with Borden, straight down the line metal, often reminiscent of Maiden as it gallops along at frenetic pace. 'Notorious' is fist-pumping, albeit predictable, the guitars of Nelson and Allen are energetic enough, but what Borden lacks is the anthems, or at least, the tracks to really put their hooks in you. 'Terror On The Town' is good, headbanging stuff, but it lacks the blood and guts of say W.A.S.P., but that's not saying Borden needs to be like those mentioned bands just because of the theatrics. However, despite a cult following, I've found Borden's early works a little bereft of true metal quality, but instead would recommend the later power metal records, particularly 'Master Of Disguise'.

Even as a young, curious metaller I'm not sure I'd have reaped much from 'Menace...', instead preferring the mystical waffling of Dio, the bat-biting of Ozzy and almost cheesy stageshow of Twisted Sister. Even so, Borden sticks to his guns, but they will quite regularly fire blanks.

6/10

Grotus - Mass (1996)

One of only a few records I would've listened to in the mid '90s as metal disappeared into a foggy grave, and grunge took over with sickly abandon. Grotus remained, like Faith No More, somehow accessible in their strangeness. 'Mass' begins with the chugging, hip and almost funky drive of 'Thats Entertainment'. Following cut 'A Bad Itch' begins something akin to the grinding industro pump of Consolidated, Lars Fox rasping over the vibrant yet rusty backdrop of avant-garde rock 'n' roll. Even from the wreckage of their sewer sound, Grotus still manage to puncture the Heavens with a glorious chorus or two, 'Ebola Reston' brings to mind the weird qualities of Swamp Terrorists, and it's no surprise Mr Bungle frontman Mike Patton took to the band, the quirky groove of 'Hand To Mouth' is industrial hillbilly oddness, catchy as fuck, accessible yet never understood. Littered with samples, fuelled by orgiastic beats, Grotus have their fingers on the pulse and know how to explore the backstreets we never dared to venture.

7.5/10

Various - Metal Masssacre IV (1983)

The 'Metal Massacre' story continues, and steps up a notch, both Sacred Blade and Death Dealer pumping out quality metal, the former sounding like a watered down Possessed, particularly in the vocal delivery. Death Dealer follow a more classic vein, but it's track three which proves the 'Metal Massacre' compilers are on the ball. Trouble's 'The Last Judgement' is a doom masterpiece, making this volume worth the money. However, even the wailing Sceptre and the full-throttle Znowhite up the anti. So far, '...Massacre IV' is certainly the best of the four released, not quite up there with the evil grooves of the 'Speed Kills' compilations.

War Cry offer a bassy number, typically amateurish lyrically but Abattoir's 'Screams From The Grave', the relatively heavy Witchslayer, and Lizzy Borden beef up the record which ends with the slow burning Medieval, a real oily stomper of a cut made all the more strange by the vocal delivery, but alongside Trouble's masterpiece, this is probably the finest track on the compilation.

7/10

Whitesnake - Whitesnake (1987)

I recall seeing the cover all over the place in the heyday of metal. The stone facade seemed rather mundane compared to some of the band's more sexual album covers of the past. However, I didn't care, I never liked Whitesnake in the slightest, but that doesn't mean I'm including this self-titled opus just to kick and claw at. For me, this record is one of the bands best, but it came at a time when metal was filling arena's, bands such as Kiss were giving us the dreary yet stadium plod of 'Crazy Nights', and hair was getting bigger. 'Whitesnake' is a record of cliche's, the whining guitars of 'Cryin In The Rain', Coverdale just expecting some scantily clad femme fatale to walk through the rainy streets to his apartment, where a black panther sits on the rug. You can smell it's 1987, you can feel it and see it in the city lights and tasseled leather jackets. 'Still Of The Night' rips off Zeppelin in its strut, but at least we're not in the love ballad territory...yet! But in 'Here I Go Again' we have a hit record set to appear on countless rock compilations. It builds slowly, and then pumps its fist, Coverdale, the mane of lion with mic between his legs, like some rock dinosaur, his face cracking through the dried tan, and soft rockers everywhere are lapping it up. Of course, thrashers elsewhere were mocking such hilarity. Yet, give or take a few, well, all being predictable chapters, 'Give Me All Your Love', laced with those typical late '80s keyboards, and the caress of 'Is This Love', prove the band are able to churn out classic soft rock, but whether it's actually metal is another question!

Music for quite nice looking mum's everywhere!

5.5/10

Kiss - Ace Frehley (1978)

I personally thought that the band's idea to release solo records was ridiculous. Even more so when you hear the frailties of Gene Simmons' and Paul Stanley's bog standard outings. As if Kiss weren't pretentious enough, we were submitted to these terrible offerings...but thankfully, Ace saves the day with a nice little record that doesn't attempt to strut on unsteady heels. Instead, we get a glam rock record of some note, the axeman stomping through a selection of decent rockers. 'Snow Blind', and 'Ozone', both weighty numbers, 'New York Groove' borrows heavily from the T-Rex sway, but this is good stuff. Simple, yet effective rock 'n' roll and more than just an arrogant experiment gone wrong. Where the other solo recordings were nothing but extensions of ego yet made of filler, Ace Frehley rises above the make-up and glitz to reveal a sincere side that enables him to rock.

7/10

Skid Row - Subhuman Race (1995)

After the absolutely smoking 'Slave To The Grind', Skid Row keep their two fingers in the face of commercialism and corporate rock by once again pummelling the senses with their right to rock. This record has often been compared, not necessarily with regards to sound, to Motley Crue's self-titled opus. Both bands keeping the bass heavy, the vocals gruff and the melodies down and dirty. I'm sure Skid Row must've lost alot of fans for veering into this primal rock 'n' roll, but for me, it was the way to go, and I give them credit for such a brutal shift of gears. As soon as 'My Enemy' rips into the skull, you know Bach is on fine form, a raucous, clattering track that sees the lanky frontman growling, snarling and grrrrring over the heavy soundtrack. Strangely, 'Firesign' at times looks back to the bands more melodic days, until of course it's cut in half by its monster chorus, leaving you wondering just how a cringe-worthy band become so cool. Okay, Skid Row aren't the relation of Corrosion Of Conformity, but like Crue they've knuckled down, put all their aggression into the making of this slab and come out with a winner. I can certainly see the comparisons with the John Corabi-fronted Crue record. 'Eileen' smears itself over the speakers, 'Remains To Be Seen' chugs by, the title track is simple a bulldozer of angst with an almost grunge-influenced chorus and the seven-minute stomp of 'Iron Will' is one of the most angry tracks the band has ever recorded. Maybe Skid Row were simply keeping tabs on how the music scene was evolving and wanted to fit in. Their sleazy roots may not have survived in harsher times, but 'Subhuman Race' is a a new predator entirely, enabling the act to shift into a new dimension they must have surely once thought was out of bounds.

8/10

Porno For Pyros (1993)

Jane's Addiction were a very cool band. Indeed, they were so cool that the likes of Guns 'n' Roses would have swapped every limb for just a gust of that wild talent. The man behind it all was Perry Farrell, the strange prophet of skeletal frame who cavorted over his records like some twisted messiah. For some reason, Jane's Addiction folded...it was a tragedy, and to hear Farrell's voice on anything else just isn't the same. Well, Porno For Pyros are pretty much the same...just lacking the religious controversy, the surreal circus and everything else that Jane's Addiction possessed. Opener 'Sadness' is a sweeping, dreamy triumph but there are too many times when the album exists as an almost lazy project, art for art's sake. Plenty of funky swirling, mystical rambling, and that almost staggering genius, but it's in splashes this time around, always a poor mimic of what had gone before. It could be said that Perry Farrell had lost his mojo. His words lacking the vigour and mesmerising sense as each track drifts by, particularly the irritating 'Pets', and scuzzy 'Bad Shit' with its tin-can chaos.

If Porno For Pyros were an unknown quantity, I'm sure this record would be considered a triumphant debut, but the history of it all, the presence of Farrel, and the looming shadow of Jane's Addiction is just too much for this record to deal with. Take your bongo's and hazy thoughts elsewhere, because Porno For Pyros are just a pipe dream.

5.5/10