You haven’t lived until you see a Manowar tribute band at a dodgy venue with a cockroach problem

A Manowar cover band – yes, that got your attention – playing through a malfunctioning sound system at a small dive bar with an alleged cockroach problem.

It wasn’t quite the strangest gig I’d ever been to, but it certainly was peculiar ones. For one thing, did someone say Manowar cover band?

The Triumph Of Steel, Melbourne, November 5, 2016 @ Whole Lotta Love.

Yes. They’re called The Triumph Of Steel and you should definitely see them live.

Consider how much Manowar are the gigantic anti-hipster hipsters of heavy metal. More metal than any metal that ever metalled in Metalville on plant Metal, Manowar are so densely absorbed into everything Manowar — with everything they do being so jaw-droppingly, cringe-inducingly, they-can’t-be serious-grade uncool — that to be serious about liking Manowar seriously is inherently cool.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Manowar, particularly the first half a dozen or so albums in the Manowar discography. It’s just that, if Manowar managed to convey even the tiniest sliver of tongue-in-cheek irony, people would probably be less inclined to believe that Manowar had long, long, long since disappeared up their own arses. Alas, non-seriousness with Manowar there just ain’t. Disregarding the unbelievably homo-erotic band promo shots from their earlier era, the true silliness of what Manowar became is evident in, for example, in printing all lyrics for an entire album in genuinely illegible faux-runes, thereby defeating the purpose of providing lyrics in the first place. Or maybe it started with the line of Manowar Warrior Shield condoms?

From their sixth or so album onwards, Manowar didn’t just jump the shark – they swam some laps together, hung out at the bar afterwards and became best of friends. Consequently, as far as the Manowar of today goes, the Manowar vision of what constitutes heavy metal is single-mindedly inflexible.

Which of course means that The Triumph Of Steel aren’t just any old cover band. They’re a Manowar cover band – and faithfully mimicking a band that morphed into a parody of itself takes a very special kind of wheel on fire.

Thankfully, the Triumph Of Steel were wonderful when I saw them on November 5, 2016 at a little bar called Whole Lotta Love. They put on a good show and did not lack dedication, a feat that is even more notable considering their technical and pest-related (more on this shortly) challenges.

Vocalist Igor’s melodic voice was outstanding. Indeed, merely being a good power-melodic vocalist isn’t easy, but only the leatheriest chaps can properly pay direct homage to Manowar vocalist Eric Adams takes. Filtered through his rich accent, it would have made for a captivating show — were it not for the poor old malfunctioning PA.

"Faaahiiighting, faaahiiighting, fighting the world!"

Through absolutely no fault of their own (I was informed by what I was assured was a reliable source) the house PA was just not playing ball. While the guitar came through ok, the vocals jumped between excessive quietness or cut in and out, possibly because of a loose connection. It wasn’t too bad from the bar and beyond, but it was excruciating at the front of the small stage where I wanted to stand. My gig compadre pointed out that the band were in all likelihood oblivious to what was going out the front. This was probably a good thing as it would have been a shame to see them thrown by somethign that wasn't their doing.

Towards the end of the set, enough beer had been consumed, or perhaps the track selection struck the right power chord (or perhaps a combination of both) that the men at the front (and they were all men) of the stage really got into it. Fighting The World material, it seems, holds a special place for Melbourne heavy metal lovers.

And so The Triumph Of Steel finished their set, to an audience that was small but sincerely appreciative, for the power and the glory and the singalong choruses. When it comes to heavy metal, Manowar are one-of-a-kind, and this Manowar cover band played their role faithfully.

Gig compadre and I stayed back for a drink or two where we had a bit of a chat to guitarist David, who seemed like a nice chap. Last drinks were called and then… cockroaches.

Or to be perfectly honest – one big cockroach, casually making its way across the dance floor. I pointed this out to the reliable source mentioned at the start of this story, who responded by saying that the venue had, apparently, quite recently enlisted the service of a pest controller — but then the joke was that said professional must have missed a spot.

A week or so after the gig I found myself hanging out with a friend, where I casually mentioned this peculiar evening. She mentioned how she’d once ended up there with the intention of enjoying a quiet drink. It was an uneventful night, said the friend (who — and this will become relevant in a moment — is what you’d call small-statured), until she went to the bar and noticed how she rather stood out from the other patrons. She was dwarfed by the great many enormous people all throughout the room who, it turns out, were there to enjoy the dedicated BBW night that was regularly held at the venue.

What a strange thing it is. But actually, it’s just another great night out in Melbourne. I love live music and events in this city and I wouldn’t swap it for anything.

A pox on phones at concerts (and how to stop them)

I went to a fantastic gig the other week. L7, back in action after 13 years of inactivity (ok, so they got back together in 2014, but you get what I mean), and live in concert for the first time in Australia since 1998 .

You can read below about how good they were, how tight they sounded, and how the show was just excellent. Unfortunately, part of this otherwise-great gig was soured by an all-too-common problem.

This L7 concert was a sold-out and therefore crowded occasion. I was situated in a sort of ok-but-not-perfect-spot near the side of the stage. The spot itself was not a problem. In fact, even with a support pillar in the way, the view was moderately good — except for the 20 per cent of the time when that view was interrupted by someone's illuminated phone screen.

If you’ve been attending gigs for the last 10 or so years you’ll be well-versed with this raging pain in the arse phenomenon. The Shovel got it right with its story title man forced to watch concert through his own eyes after mistakenly leaving phone at home.

Phones at concerts. A thousand plagues upon them.

To clarify: there is nothing wrong with taking a quick photo or five at a gig that you love. I can even stomach a quick little video. The problem — at least for anyone with the audacity to not be fixated on their phone — is the overpowering volume of people who repeatedly pull out phones (or God forbid, an ipad) and spend half their time not-looking at the performance they’ve paid to attend.

I wish I could say it was a so-called Millennial disease, that it was I who was unnecessarily grumpy because of some generation gap. That was not the case at L7, however, for the person in front of me, hyper-focussing on the stage through a small backlit phone screen, was definitely not younger than myself.

A thousand plagues upon them. It’s a chronic problem that spoils gigs. Yet saddest part of all is that phone obsessives sometimes literally don’t realise what they’re missing, something I saw first-hand during the last Iron Maiden tour.

If any heavy metal band has a world-class stage show, it is Maiden. To see my favourite band, I had purchased floor tickets, where I found my view constantly blocked by the young chap in front of me — or rather, blocked by his large-screen phone that went up during and between and after each song.

Towards the end of the set there’s a brief lull where the lights go down. This precedes the song The Number Of The Beast, but before the Woe to you,o earth and sea bit comes on, something extraordinary occurs on the otherwise dark stage. As you look up, a faint grey figure begins to materialise. Initially not quite clear as your eyes adjust, it transforms into an amazing sight, as you realise you’re looking at a gigantic satanic figure, towering maybe 20m high and leering at you from the darkness.

It’s an unbelievable, awe-inspiring, unforgettable piece of stage-craft. Its purpose is to build tension as it introduces one of the most famous heavy metal songs of all time. And all this occurs while you're at a concert for one of the greatest heavy metal bands of all time.
You’d think all eyes would be fixed on what was going on ahead of them. Yet it was painfully obvious that this young chap, blocking my view with his large phone, had missed the whole thing. Why? Because he’d evidently decided that this ‘interlude’ was a good time to capture a wide-angled panoramic shot of the arena. To do this you need to firmly hold your phone and pivot in a slow circle, steadily pointing your device at the seated audience — and therefore look in all directions but the stage. By the time he was done, he’d completely missed the entire giant-Satan-appearing-out-of-the-darkness thing. He was clearly oblivious to what he’d just managed to not see at this event he’d paid good money to attend (Iron Maiden concert tickets are not cheap). I suppose he at least got a good photo of the crowd, right?

So what is to be done?

• Perhaps bands can sell two categories of tickets: one at the regular price, titled GENERAL ADMISSION WITH PHONE CAMERA, and a second category, going slightly cheaper, titled GENERAL ADMISSION FOR PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY WANT TO SEE THE GIG.

• Maybe bands or venue staff can hand out pieces of cardboard with PUT THE FUCKING PHONE AWAY printed in large letters. Not sure if the insurance would cover the additional violence though.

• Or perhaps bands can do what GWAR are famous for doing at concerts — saturating the first 15 rows of the audience with fake blood. It might only stop the first 15 rows from interfering with the show, but if you’re that close to the stage, being covered in gallons of fake blood is an excellent trade-off for a phone-free view of the performance.

Phones are the bane of modern gigs. A thousand plagues upon them.

How would you fix it?

L7 were great

I had the privilege of seeing L7 the other week. It was the first gig (the sold out one) of their two-date Melbourne leg — and would you believe, I’d forgotten I’d even bought a ticket until a week before the show. Only when an automated reminder materialised in my inbox did I realise I had committed, so for once it’s actually a case of thanks corporate-ticketing-company.

And you know what? It ain’t the first time it happened. My fears of early onset Alzheimer’s, however, are a discussion for another time. What were we talking about? See what I did there?

L7 live. Pic: Mik Thornley.

My love for L7 began when I was 12 or 13, when I played virtually to destruction a dubbed cassette of Bricks Are Heavy. I loved it from the first listen — the heavier tracks anyway — and how it merged the cynically tone of punk with the heaviness of metal, while substituting watered down whining, found in so much of the grunge that was so big at the time, with actual attitude.

About 20 years later I came across my second L7 album, Hungry For Stink. It was the odd one out in this 200-CD lot of grindcore, death and black metal — someone’s former collection — that I picked up in one go from a pawn shop.

Here was a massive and (for me) unprecedented collection of extreme music, an intense concentration of the heaviest, fastest and grimmest music on earth — and yet Hungry For Stink was one of the stand-outs from the whole lot. As with Bricks Are Heavy, there was just something about the attitude, the acerbic vocals, and those giant riffs.

Naturally, it was great to finally seem them live, this occasion being the previously mentioned first of two shows at 170 Russell aka Billboard, what with the first one having sold out.

Within one song, it was immediately apparent how tight L7 they were on stage. These women started rocking out 30 years ago, and while they had something of an extended break in the latter half,  in close to two decades of rocking hard they’ve clearly run low on neither fuel nor fire. Incidentally, check out this unbelievable 1992 Australian tour itinerary where they played venues ranging from The Palace to Monash University. When did international acts stop doing this?

Fuel my fire! Pic: Mik Thornley.

The fact that the sound was excellent did not detract from the show. Is that a non sequitur? Probably. But then I’ve been to at least one gig at 170 Russell where the audio was rubbish.

Track selection was predictably pleasing. L7 have not released new material in 17 years so the setlist borrowed heavily from Bricks Are Heavy and Hungry For Stink — and nobody was complaining. Crowd favourite Fuel My Fire went off with its sawing groove, as did the other rockers like Pretend We’re Dead, Monster, Shitlist (I never got that one much, as I always thought it was a bit wimpy — instead of getting a pen to “write out a list” why not just destroy your enemies and everything they love?) and so forth. My personal favourite L7 song, One More Thing, was the highlight. Goddamn do I love that track so hard with its slow tempo and low-end riff.

Talking of One More Thing, it provided one of the rare opportunities where frontwoman Donita Sparks spoke to the audience — a gag about the lyric line “there’s nothing fun to do tonight” that which morphed into a reference to what the band were doing after the gig. Get it? Doing something fun tonight? Incidentally, the planned activities amounted to “we’re going to dance our asses off” at the after party.

Wait a moment... this isn't the Hawkwind gig. Pic: Mik Thornley. Wacky Photoshopping: me.

I would have liked to see more banter between songs, or at least something resembling dialogue. There was no faulting the tight guitar-ing and everything else, but a top gig could have been just that little bit better-er if there’d been just a touch more interaction. But that’s an exceedingly minor criticism.

I did have one more serious complaint about this L7 concert — but it has nothing to do with L7.

Goddamn phones. That story coming soon...

Denouncement Pyre launch Black Sun Unbound at the Bendigo Hotel - and I didn't feel too old

Does heavy metal truly flow in your blood? If the answer is yes then I choose to believe that the fire never leaves you, no matter your age. What changes when you’re at a gig is what I like to think of as a case of things getting more efficient — that raging open wood blaze that burnt so brightly and unpredictably is now one of those modern, efficient, possibly quieter but definitely more reliable gas heaters.

There comes a point — usually in what is considered the ‘middle’ part of life — where the wild expectations of seeing a live band are tempered by the begrudging realisation that this dying meatbag body you inhabit isn’t quite as sturdy as it used to be.

I’ve been warned many times not to get old. Especially on Friday nights, when all you can think of at the end of your five-day 9-5 working stiff routine is how nice it would be to block out reality by inching just a bit closer to finally Netflixing all 178 episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation.

Yet here I was, on a Friday night, still getting older, but defiantly getting ready for a gig, because I love heavy metal and I love this art form called extreme music.

The occasions was Melbourne’s Denouncement Pyre, who were launching their recently released new album, Black Sun Unbound. The location was that reliable pedestal of a venue that will put on extreme music where other venues won’t: the Bendigo Hotel. I’ve written about Denouncement Pyre before because they put on a great show, and also because I strongly suspect they’re close to being (or might actually be) the band I’ve seen live more than any other. Indeed, I’ve seen Iron Maiden seven times and The Night Terrors on a comparable number of occasions, but I can’t recall the number of Denouncement Pyre live performances I’ve accumulated.

Denouncement Pyre. Pic: Ashleigh Duncan.

As you get older, you tend to get more chilled when it comes to those things that years ago might have caused some existential anxiety. Or, if a younger me was somehow able to address an older me, I might find it amusing to say that you simply have less f***s to give.

On the other hand, you also find yourself in a situation where you need to duck out because you could really do with a coffee before the main act takes onto the stage.

But more on that later.

Denouncement Pyre are one of those bands who seem to get just that little bit better each time. Despite the fact that I cannot play a musical instrument (in my defence, I’m exceptionally good at listening to music), it’s clear that they have ammunition-carrier-loads of technical proficiency and the dedication to drive it. The gig was also an occasion to see Tasmania’s Ruins, who I didn’t know much about but sounded promising.

But back to getting old…

Does heavy metal truly flow in your blood? If the answer is yes then I choose to believe that the fire never leaves you, no matter your age. What changes when you’re at a gig is what I like to think of as a case of things getting more efficient — that raging open wood blaze that burnt so brightly and unpredictably is now one of those modern, efficient, possibly quieter but definitely more reliable gas heaters. Yes, a gas fire is nowhere near as awesome as a raging wood fire, but they’re equally effective and the end result is just the same. And besides, Victorian smoking regulations mean it’s way harder to come home with a jacket reeking of cigarette smoke.

Subjecting your body to lethal doses of beer like you did back in the day would now also mean writing off most of the next day (and apparently, once you add another decade, there’s also all of Sunday to take off). So you tend to get a bit more selective and try to make the most of it.

Assuming you have a stable income, you also worry less about the getting to and from. Back in my day, when you tied an onion to your belt, which was the style at the time, you also had to think about funds. Having less of them generally meant choosing between getting home and getting one last drink. While meeting new and interesting people on the NightRider home did make for memorable encounters, the novelty soon wore off.

It’s a cruel twist of fate, isn’t it? That in order to have the freedom to not worry about being strictly responsible you need to live your life somewhat strictly and responsibly so as to not have to worry about losing all that freedom.

And finally, one last benefit, at least in my situation, is that, generally speaking, there’s hopefully less worry about your place in the world. Figuring out this thing we call identity for many people on both sides of their twenties is a work in progress, but add another 10 years and you’re less likely to carry on in a way that doesn’t resemble the real you.

Of course, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t sometimes get fleeting moments of anxiety — and then I remember that I’m here to see a talented band play a variety of music that I love and that I’m privileged to live in a city where this is a regular occurrence.

Quite a line-up.

To wit, the pre-gig grown-up-grade (so not McDonald’s) dinner that my gig-going counterpart and I began with was at the magnificent Mrs Parma’s. Apart from the innuenduous title, they have a first-rate albeit-higher-than-average-priced selection of craft beers and the Mexican parma is simply superb. Beware though, for if you’re not accustomed to chilies, you may end up paying for it the next morning (what was that about getting old)?

Upon arriving at The Bendigo Hotel I sadly missed the power electronics violation from RuiNation. Though power electronics are typically not my first choice of beverage (I won’t knock it back, it just doesn’t feature prominently in my music collection), I do love the fact that a performance of confrontingly atonal noise music like this opens up a metal gig.

I did, however, catch the tail end of Hordes Of The Black Cross, who finished with a rather savage black thrash number. Perhaps it happened to be one of their best tracks, what with it being a done thing in live music to finish with the good stuff. Or perhaps it was something else? Whatever it was, the sound emanating from the stage was excellent. I’ve been to several Bendigo Hotel shows and I’ve occasionally noticed a muddy character to the audio — but not this time. It might have had something to do with new sound insulation behind the stage, or it might have been due to something else, but either way, every band I saw that night sounded sharp.

This quality helped bring out so much of the fine detail for Ruins. From Tasmania, they play an interesting, very non-linear (non verse-chorus-verse) kind of second wave-ish death-black metal, on the mid-tempo spectrum, more about murk and mire than freezing blasts.

That made perfect sense, right?

One unusual thing – and I say unusual in the context of the three-standard-deviations-away-from-normality that is playing live black and death metal – was Ruins vocalist Alex Pope. On this bill there was no shortage of bullet belts, dark and satanic imagery, splotches of corpse paint – death and black metal tropes, if you like. Yet on this night he had none of those. No corpse paint, bullet belts (that I could see), war chains, gas masks — there was a band shirt though.

In no way am I diminishing the inherent value that all these things add to a metal show — I love it when what you see in a performance matches what you hear — but nonetheless, kudos to him for delivering the same vocal savagery, minus the optional accoutrements.

It seemed to me like a very honest performance, as if I was witnessing the spirit of Aussie pub rock — albeit a damned spirit from the last pub in the abyss. It was a good show, incidentally, and (I think it was the) closing track Suicidal Pulse sounded incredible.

After Ruins finished it was time for me and my gig counterpart’s running joke — namely, how we could really do with a little rest between bands. The running joke started earlier this year when we caught the train into town for Iron Maiden and ended up on quite a detour to acquire a much-needed coffee pep up.

And so on this occasion coffee called us again. Alas, no traditional coffee vendors were open at that late hour in the sort of dodgy end of Collingwood. We did pass one place called Everyday Coffee but we were informed that they only sold fancy cocktails. As an aside, I’m proud of my restraint in not pointing out the name of the venue to the staff member bearing the disappointing news, and therefore not contributing to shaping that individual's poor worldview of the hospitality industry.

Ultimately we settled on petrol station-grade coffee. It was dirt cheap and not too far off from dirt tasting either, but we weren’t consuming it for the flavour and that was fine by us.

After we returned it was time to see Denouncement Pyre.

Denouncement Pyre at the Bendigo Hotel.

Wicked bass. Pic: Ashleigh Duncan. Terrible Photoshop editing: me.

As mentioned, they seem to get a little bit better with each show and each new release. The recognition is growing, with that still-recent performance at Maryland Deathfest 2016 apparently garnering some deserving attention.

It turned out to be an excellent show, but you knew I was going to say that. Although terms like tight, imposing and commanding come to mind, the truth is that it’s difficult to sensibly describe in words what music sounds like — best you go hear and see it for yourself. They played some new tunes from Black Sun Unbound and generally owned the stage — a representative example of what I’ve heard overseas people use the term 'scene' when referring to Aussie blackened thrash.

After the gig I spoke very briefly to Ruins’ Alex Pope over the merch table. I asked for a recommendation on which album from the Ruins discography would be a good start (the table had three to choose from) and he gave me a deal on three albums — and even threw in a patch, which was very nice of him. He also thanked me, very sincerely, “for your support”.

And at that, it was almost time to go home and go to bed.

Well almost.
As the main room was emptying I talked to someone who, unbelievably, wasn’t wearing a black band shirt and didn’t listen to all that much extreme music. We discussed cats and tractors — and let me tell you this: Massey Ferguson is the real deal folks.

It was one of the most interesting conversations I’d had all week. Not to depreciate the value of the other conversations that night or that week, but not just cats AND but ALSO agricultural machinery at a metal gig is a rare combination. Regrettably, it was over all too soon and us oldies had to go home and shuffle into bed in preparation for all those forthcoming adulty responsibilities.

As I made my way home in the back of a cab I figured it had been a very decent night. The gig was well-attended and supported. I had some expensive-ish craft beer over a Mexican parma as well as some normal-priced generic beer, and a dirt-cheap-priced coffee too. I was reminded that this art form called extreme music is alive, well, and routinely commanding a great turnout.

I saw some good music. I met some interesting people. It was an affirmation of the great things about heavy metal. But I still thought the bit about cats and tractors was a memorable highlight.

As I said, you look at things a bit differently as you get older.

Polyamorous DJ devastated at suggestion he has only one girlfriend

A polyamorous DJ has decided to speak out after being wrongfully accused one too many times of having “just one girlfriend”.

DJ Sasquatch X says he finally decided to make himself heard after insensitive comments spoiled what would otherwise have been “a bangin’ party”.

“I was standing there at the bar, getting ready for my set, with my arms around two very good looking female companions. One of them left to grab a drink, so I was alone with the other. It was only for a minute, but someone then came up to me and started a conversation. That’s when I was asked if the beautiful lady by my side was my girlfriend,” says DJ Sasquatch X.

“Now, when someone asks “is that your girlfriend?” they’re making some pretty strong assumptions. If I don’t say anything they might leave the conversation thinking I wasn’t here with multiple gorgeous women,” he says. “So, I find myself in this strange situation where I have to constantly tell people that “it’s girlfriends”.

“I used to just ignore it but it’s gotten really bad lately. So that’s why I decided to speak up. If you keep quiet, people are going to blindly assume you’re with just one partner.”

Despite the frustration, DJ Sasquatch X says he doesn’t begrudge people who assume he has “just one girlfriend” because he realises that monogamous non-DJs were usually brought up differently. He acknowledges that it’s not out of malice that people make assumptions and he believes the key is education.

Pic: divorcecourt.com

“I used to get really angry about it but I’ve learnt over the years that the best thing to do is to remain calm and explain things rationally. That usually gets the point across,” he says.

Even so, he admits that it can still get a bit much on some days.

“It usually happens when I’m DJing in the booth and only one of my many super-hot female partners is standing next to me. That’s when I find myself having to constantly explain to people that no, I’m not monogamous, I’ve actually got more than one girlfriend, it’s just that the other one is probably at the bar or something. Nights like that can get really tiring and it’s in those moments that I wish monogamous non-DJs were more considerate.”

Not one to concede defeat, DJ Sasquatch X says he still believes he can change the way people think. His latest strategy, he reveals, is to spread his message via social media.

“Like so many great ideas, the social media thing started by accident. I was at this house party and someone took a photo of me standing with my arms around several of my partners. It went on Facebook and got an amazing response. That’s when I realised, hang on a second, I’m onto something here,” he says

“Likes and comments just went through the roof. Here was a photo of me with my arms around three or four exceptionally attractive and alluringly dressed young women. I thought, wow, maybe I’ve finally found a way for everyone to finally see that I’m a guy who has multiple partners.”

Unfortunately, concedes DJ Sasquatch X, his message didn’t reach as many people as he first thought. Although his message was viewed by thousands of people, most of the responses turned out to be from other non-monogamous DJs.

“While I was hoping for a wider response, it’s comforting to at least know that there are people who support me morally,” he says. “Even if they don’t share or comment on my photo, it’s enough to know that they saw me with two or more pretty young women. That really warms my heart. It’s what gets me out of bed every morning.”

Yes, this article is satirical. It is not real.

Sunn O))) to release double 12-hour album for 2016

The co-founder of drone metal band Sunn O))) has revealed that he wears a cape during live performances in order to mask the uncontrollable laughter that overcomes him whenever he thinks about people spending money on Sunn O))) recordings.

In a candid interview that lends weight to what many non-Sunn O))) fans have long suspected, guitarist Greg Anderson conceded that the group was started as “a bit of a joke” — and that he still doesn’t understand who in their right mind would spend money on a drone metal album.

“Sunn O))) was a joke band,” says O’Malley. “Seriously, our first album came from, like, an hour of dicking around with guitar feedback. You’d have to be so incredibly high to appreciate that recording, which I guess goes to show that anything will sound good if you smoke enough narcotics,” he says.

“So anyway, Sunn O))) was a joke band and that’s why we wear hoods on stage. I still can’t believe people take us seriously and that the press rave about us. People actually pay money for our albums and then they want to see us on stage. Fans expect us to be all grim and serious, they don’t want to see a bunch of dudes laughing their asses off, so that’s why we wear thick hooded robes.”

In explaining the success of Sunn O))), O’Malley draws a comparison with Lou Reed’s infamous Metal Machine Music album, released in 1975 as a cynical way to close a record deal or (depending who you ask) Reed flexing his creative side.

“Lou Reed was off his tree when he recorded Metal Machine Music. It’s literally 64 minutes of unlistenable noise. I said to Greg [Anderson, other Sunn O))) co-founder], hey man, if Lou Reed can win critical acclaim for releasing a double-album of total shit, then surely we can have a go too. That’s why our latest album, Kannon, took six years to release.”

"We could release an hour of time-stretched cat yodelling and people would still buy it."

New Sunn O))) album for 2016

“The latest Sunn O))) album, Kannon, goes for all of 33 minutes. And did I mention it took us six years to release?” says Anderson.

“We could release an hour of time-stretched cat yodelling and people would still buy it,” he says. “As long as it’s slow and has lots of bottom end, no one can tell the difference. We’re a ‘drone metal’ band after all. That means we can release anything we want and call it music.”

“The good news is, we’ve got another album coming out in 2016. In fact, it’s going to be an awesome double album. It will have two absolutely epic tracks, each one a 12-hour rendition that represents everything that Sunn O))) is about. In fact, we were so keen to release these albums, we shared them on the internet for everyone to enjoy. You can check them out below.”

New Sunn O))) album from 2016 (disc 1)

New Sunn O))) album from 2016 (disc 2)

Yes, this article is satirical. There is no truth to any of it.

Drug dealers outraged at major bush duff cancellation

Narcotics dealers have slammed the organisers of a major outdoor bush doof festival after the event was cancelled just one day before it was due to begin.

A joint-statement by several illegal drug suppliers who had planned to attend the event said the organisers need to be held accountable for the fiasco. The narcotics traffickers said they were dismayed by the way the event was mishandled, citing as an example widely circulated reports that claimed basic permits required to host the event had not been obtained from the local council.

Stranded: illegal drug suppliers who stocked up for a major bush doof that was cancelled at the last moment don't know what to do with their surplus narcotics. "What am I going to do with a commercial quantity of ice?" said one dismayed dealer. "It’s not going to smoke itself now, is it?"

“The behaviour of the organisers is a disgrace,” said one well-known narcotics supplier, who threatened to shoot us if we revealed his identity.

“You think getting a simple permit from the council is hard? Mate, try organising a commercial quantity of illicit drugs. You can’t even begin to imagine how much time and effort is required to source, conceal and distribute a festival’s worth of pingers. And yet the organisers want us to believe they couldn’t organise a simple fire plan and a phone call to a toilet rental company? What a joke!”

The anonymous criminal added that the event’s cancellation had forced him to reconsider his plans for the year.

“I really feel for the shops and accommodation in the closest town. A significant part of their annual income depended on this one event. Like me, they stocked up specifically for it, but now they’ve been left stranded. What am I going to do with a commercial quantity of ice? It’s not going to smoke itself now, is it?”

One festival regular, Jane Schiocatta, said regular bush doof attendees were disappointed with the last-minute cancellation.

“Yeah man, it’s sad that it was cancelled at the last moment,” she said.

“It’s a long time to wait for big bush doofs between Australia Day and Easter. This festival would normally break things up a bit but its cancellation has really thrown a spanner in the works. I guess festival-goers will have to wait a bit longer to get incredibly high for four days with 8000 other people in an outback cow paddock.”

Schiocatta added that art and performances are another draw card for the festival.

“Oh, and there’s like some kind of art shit that gets done at this thing too. I think, anyway. I’m usually so munted I can’t remember.”

Yes this story is satirical. It is not true.

Hammer Smashed Faith: how underground sharing has changed (and yet remains the same)

Hammer Smashed Faith is a heavy metal compilation showcasing new, unknown, unsigned and unrefined artists. When released mid last year 2015 I promised the person who put it together that I’d write a review. After making said promise, I penned a few words and promptly sat on it until now. So after more than six months I’ve sheepishly come up with something. Sorry Richard.

A free release (more on this later), Hammer Smashed Faith made me think of how much this whole discovering-and-getting-into-new-music thing has changed since I were a lad. For reference, when I were a lad in my case refers to the ’90s onwards, when vinyl remained very uncool, cassette tapes were common, and CDs were always overpriced.

As a bonus for something to do with extreme metal, the font is in fact quite legible.

Blackened Death Records presents Hammer Smashed Faith

With a name like Hammer Smashed Faith (the title is a play on the famous Cannibal Corpse release in case you didn’t know), and with the artwork depicting Satan presiding over a bunch of huddled freaks from Francisco Goya’s famous Witches’ Sabbath painting, you can imagine what the tone on this compilation is. Most artists are unknown, the tracks are rooted in the extreme side of heavy metal, and the sound and production quality is generally demo-grade.

If there’s one thing lacking on this compilation, it’s a refined studio polish. Talent is not absent on many of the tracks here, so much so that I found myself thinking on several tracks how awesome it would sound if only some label put money behind it for a studio, production, sound, etc.

The person behind the Hammer Smashed Faith compilation is one Richards ‘Pope’ Weeks. A busy chap based in the UK, he’s publicly active in at least eight bands: Carnivorous Forest, The Meads Of Asphodel, Redacted, Sea Wolves Of The Atlantic, Ebonillumini, World Controller, The Higher Craft, and Suicide Wraith. He also hosts The Eucharist Assembly podcast, and at the time of writing it wasn’t all long ago that he’d gotten married too (so, that was a good six months ago when I should have published this).

I got to ‘know’ Richard through heavy metal via a mutual friend. Thanks to the internet, I've made this acquaintance, despite the fact that I've never met or spoken to him in person. It came about after I played some Tengger Cavalry (the greatest Mongolian throat singing folk metal band of all time) to a mate who in turn recommended it to Richard who, despite being in a different hemisphere, loved it and played it on his podcast.

Podcasting — the term was ‘invented’ by Apple and should really be called webcasting — is today one of a myriad of bog standard methods of getting to know new music. If you’re an independent artist steeped in extreme heavy metal, why wouldn’t the internet be your primary means of distribution (that is, unless you’re one of those kvlt wankers who makes a one-off run of 37 lo-fi black metal demo cassettes and then complains bitterly when Metal Archives brings unwanted attention to your band after someone creates a page for your one release — see the pic below from Metal Archives for proof that this is in fact an actual thing).

But would you believe, it wasn’t always that way.

Don’t want your heavy metal band to be mentioned on the internet? Here’s a tip. Don’t start a band!

While I might be showing my age, it’s disconcerting for a 30-something like me to come to terms with the fact that the vast majority of under-16s haven’t known any other way of ‘getting’ their music other than through digital.

10 years ago, physical media was still a dominant medium, albeit a sharply declining one. Sure, the writing was definitely drying on the wall, but Spotify and Bandcamp were yet to be founded, the iPhone hadn’t been invented, and YouTube was in its infancy.

The easiest and most appealing option for most people to find and freely listen to new music — if they weren’t willing or were unable to afford a CD — usually involved frequenting suspect illegal file downloading portals, or else, getting a ripped CD-R copy, traditionally accompanied by hastily written, illegible black script in thick permanent marker.

And hasn’t a great deal changed since physical media ceased to be the dominant medium?

Good versus evil in the nascent digital music age

What I find interesting about a compilation like Hammer Smashed Faith is that it’s indicative of just how far The Way Of Doing Things has progressed, yet staunchly does not sway from the same fine traditions that make heavy metal so great.

There’s a noble side to all this freely available digital music distribution, which would you believe, predates the digital age. That tradition is the same ideal that drove people to such great lengths to tape trade back in the ’80s, when heavy metal counter culture was an underground phenomenon that routinely battled for any exposure on popular media.

Heavy metal tape trading very much helped shape death metal and black metal in the ’80s and early ’90s. Look it up if you’re unfamiliar with it because the intercontinental lengths fans would go to just to discover and share new music was simply awesome.

The technology of today means the method and ease of sharing has changed drastically, but the spirit arguably remains. Despite the cynicism that comes with age, I’d like to believe that heavy metal fans today have just as much fire today as they did almost 50 years ago when it all started with Black Sabbath. What drove the passion of tape trading lives on today, with the fundamental difference being that there are now far fewer serious entry barriers.

You’ll find this on Hammer Smashed Faith. Originally envisaged as a freely available release for most of its pre-release life, the response apparently turned out to be so good that it was eventually offered as a physical item too. While the ambitious plan to put out a digipak was shelved on practical grounds, this formerly free-to-download compilation was nonetheless released in a slip case with a four-page colour booklet. Not that such a compilation could possibly hope to make vast sums of money, as the asking price to press, package and release an otherwise free compilation like this would barely cover the costs.

Nonetheless, while I believe everything turned out well in the end, my point is — if seen in purely financial terms — that releasing a free compilation and then carrying the financial risk of pressing a premium physical version is not what usually makes for a strong business case. Indeed, why would one pay anything when it is legitimately available for free? Financial gain was low on the list of motivations for promoting and distributing this because, as I said before, the love of music is at the heart of what makes heavy metal so great.

In this digital age, the discovery of new and amazing music is no longer confined to a community radio announcer’s personal inclination or on some dude from an unpronounceable Latin American city getting back to you after you wrote a letter to an illegible address from the back page of an obscure zine. Simply put, the mechanism has been revolutionised but the spirit and intent of heavy metal remains unchanged.

And yet, just as in the good ol’ days, so too have some of the less savoury aspects also remained unchanged.

There’s always someone, isn't there?

When you’re onto a good thing, there’s inevitably someone spoiling it for the rest of us, right? Someone who feels they can take advantage of it at everyone’s expense?

In the days of tape trading, the thing that kept people honest was an honour system. Those who did not reciprocate a shipment of cassettes would (hopefully) get a bad reputation, which would ideally get them shut out of the tape trading circuit. The honour system relied on transparency and word of mouth or pen at a time where messages travelled no faster than the postal system. Apparently it worked reasonably well, but the nature of the system still meant that new or ignorant traders constantly risked getting snared.

The advent of the digital music age has entirely removed that risk. What has not changed, however, is same mindset that drove people to be arses even 30 years ago. While the villain in the piece has traditionally been the maligned greedy record label (see Motörhead making the point in 1976 on the track Fools — ironically, on a release that was then cynically withheld by the record label for three years), there’s no shortage of lesser charlatans in the rock music game.

It’s a less than ideologically-pure point and it’s something Richards Weeks came across almost weekly ever since he started putting out music like Hammer Smashed Faith on his label, Blackened Death Records.

“Since I started the label I receive at least one email a week asking if I want to be on a free compilation album. All I have to do is pay 70 euros and I’m on it!” he says.

“A lot of bands — and good ones — will be on your comp for free,” he says — in reference to what is at best spam, at worst a scam — “asking obscure musicians for 70 euros to be on Polski Zatanik Virginzlaughter Comp Volume 425.”

And yet it continues to happen. Even with with obscure heavy metal bands who release free compilations that were never intended to profit in the first place.
As I said, many of us are not in it for the money.

So there you have it

The spirit of metal is as alive as it ever was since a young Ozzy Osbourne was heard to declare “what is this that stands before me?” on Friday 13^th 1970 on Black Sabbath’s debut album. His words gave birth to heavy metal as we know it, and for all its glory and fire, with it also came the same marginal cynicism that has afflicted, from the very beginning, this thing we call the music industry.

In the case of Hammer Smashed Faith, a feeble spam attempt is hardly the stuff of the most infamous record label rip-offs of all time. Nonetheless, the scummy practice illustrates how readily any wonderful new medium is misused. Remember what I said about removing entry barriers?
It’s unfortunate and it’s simply not confined to a specific era, for the same rip-off mentality that would try to do a number on you 25 years ago was called out as a bad tape trader.

Fortunately, Polski Zatanik Virginzlaughter Comp Volume 425 is the exception to the rule. There's a great heavy metal spirit out there and, for what it is, Hammer Smashed Faith is a promising compilation that showcases extreme heavy metal artists who are hopefully in the early take-off stage of their glorious trajectory.

To that end, I sincerely mean the following: I imagine Hammer Smashed Faith would have gone far, had it been released on cassette tape 25 years ago through the one true tape trading underground, copied from one cassette generation to another via scratchy, muffled, dubbed tape and accompanied by equally scratchy hand-drawn and photocopied artwork and liner notes.

As stated, I should have published this eight or so months ago. In fact, Hammer Smashed Faith II has since been released. Presumably I’ll get around to writing about it some time in 2022.

 ·         More info: Blackened Death Records presents: Hammer Smashed Faith

 ·         Download: right here

·         Favourite Hammer Smashed Faith tracks:

Ø  Wytchfilth: No Bliss

Ø  A perfect example of a demo track that shows tremendous promise. Dark, twisted black metal with a nasty industrial edge.

Ø  Redacted: Black Shuck

Ø  Way less on the berserk extreme side of the spectrum, but still another track with promise. Melodic, fast and somewhat furious metal with some occasional screetchy vocals.

Ø  Carnivorous Forest: Wendigo Psychosis

Ø  Don’t listen to this track. It will worm right into your brain.

Ø  Ebola Gush: It Itches

Ø  Filthy grind, silly and heavy.

Ø  Squirm: The Evil Dead

Ø  Short, sharp and eminently disgusting death metal with obvious horror movie samples. You get no points for guessing which horror movie by the way.

And did I mention it’s a free heavy metal compilation?

My $180 shopping spree at Heartland Records

I’ve mentioned numerous times how Heartland Records in Melbourne, Australia, is my absolute favourite record store. So much so that once a year when the festive season rolls by, when asked by relatives what gift I would like, I imply that a Heartland Records gift vouchers wouldn’t be sneezed at.

Consequently, it’s around this time every year that I go on a Heartland Records shopping spree and end up with some killer new music. Here’s this year’s haul.

My annual pilgrimage to Heartland Records.

This is what I ask for every Christmas.

Bathory — Bathory

First cab off the rank: the first album in the Bathory discography and arguably one of the first true black metal albums.

I decided to buy this after I recently renewed my interest in Under The Sign Of the Black Mark (Bathory album number three) after owning it for several years. With this I’m expecting primitive, low-fi, Venom-inspired proto-evil noise. I don’t expect it to have aged well but I do hope to get a deeper understanding of what it must have been like to hear this for the first time all the way back in 1984 — that’s more than 30 years ago, in case that wasn’t painfully obvious.

Bathory — The Return…

Second cab off the rank: the second album in the Bathory discography. I’m familiar with just one track from this album, a cover version of the title track from the Marduk – Glorification EP. I’m expecting more evil low-fi noise, but of an improved calibre compared to its predecessor. Again, I’m going to try and imagine what it must have been like to be bludgeoned in the face for the first time with such an infernal racket when this was released in 1985.

Bathory — Blood Fire Death

When the discussion arises, I like to point out that Quorthon (Bathory main-man, guitarist, song-writer, etc.) is one of the very few people who can take partial or full credit (the jury is still deliberating) for creating not one, but two styles of heavy metal: black metal, which originated in the first three Bathory albums, two of which are listed above; and Viking metal (more of a term, yes, but still a thing), which has been agreed on as starting with the 1990 Hammerheart album.

I’m a fan of the melody, epicness (a heavy metal album entirely about Vikings, which gave rise to a thing called Viking metal, is as epic as it gets) and solid song-writing on the Hammerheart album. Blood Death Fire was its predecessor and was an in-between album. It bridged the rawness and downright evil vibe of the first three Bathory albums, and led to the more melodic Viking sound / concept / vibe of the Hammerheart album.

Bathory shirt

I don’t own a Bathory t-shirt, so this was an opportunity to correct that. What's that, wearing a Bathory shirt but not being intimately familiar with all Bathory albums makes me a poser? So far I’ve probably spent more money supporting this band than most people under 25.

Motörhead — Rock ‘N’ Roll

A couple of years ago I made a conscientious effort to appreciate more Motörhead, so I figured a good starting point was a neat box set containing the first six full-length albums in the Motörhead discography. I’m glad I did that because not only did I love these classic Motörhead albums, I’d also grown to appreciate and understand enough of Lemmy and Motörhead to be able to genuinely consider myself something of a fan before he died.
At the start of the year, I could genuinely say I'd gotten into Motörhead, yet there were something like 14 more Motörhead albums out there that I still needed to get to know. After Lemmy’s recent death, I made the point of getting to know more of his music, which is how I picked up this and another Motörhead album (below).

Coincidentally, I had a copy of Rock ‘N’ Roll on multi-generation dubbed cassette tape when I was all of 11 years old. I can’t recall what happened to my copy but I do recall when listening to it that it didn’t leave a lasting impression. More than 20 years later, I’m really loving Rock ‘N’ Roll, having fast-tracked this album to be listened to first off the pile.

Motörhead — March Ör Die

March Ör Die is the second of two newly acquired Motörhead albums. Apparently long-time Motörhead album cover artist Joe Petagno was incredibly unhappy with this one.

I haven’t listened to this one yet but I’m tipping it’ll be a great album. It’s not merely Motörhead, but it’s Motörhead doing the track Hellraiser, among other things. If you haven’t seen it, do make an effort to watch the video. As I said previously, no matter how awesome you think you are, you’ll never be Lemmy-winning-at-cards-against-the-Cenobite-Hellraiser-himself-awesome.

Various — Extreme Sündenfall 10

The Germans put out some superb EBM / industrial / goth compilations. Compilations like the Gothic Compilation, which hit at least 61 volumes, come to mind, as does the Extreme series (Extreme Sündenfall, Extreme Clubhits, Extreme Traumfänger, Extreme Störfrequenz, Extreme Lustlieder, and more).

This one appears to be one half of the 2010 edition. Like every Extreme Sündenfall volume, it’s got cringe-inducing cover art (every cover has a different nekkid lady or two for some reason), but that’s balanced out by what will hopefully be some decent music and new artists worth investigating.

Those wacky Germans. I guess a bit of flesh helps them keep the scene alive.

Marilyn Manson — The Beautiful People

In 1996, shows like MTV (when MTV still played music videos) and Rage began airing a disturbing music video from a then relatively unknown American artist calling himself Marilyn Manson.

At the time, Nine Inch Nails was a big deal, two years after the release of 1994’s The Downward Spiral. By extension, industrial metal was attempting to break into the mainstream. The much maligned creation called nu-metal was also busily being the bane of ‘serious’ metal heads who thought whining and wearing dreadlocks was an affront to heavy metal. It’s also worth noting that Kurt Cobain had been dead for two years and the grunge phenomenon was petering out.

Into this environment arrived former music journalist Marilyn Manson with his hit single, The Beautiful People. Produced by both Trent Reznor (Nine Inch Nails) and Dave Ogilvie (Skinny Puppy), its unmistakeable guitar riff to this day hangs like a chain around Manson’s neck, forever the Marilyn Manson signature track.

The shocking-rock imagery and theatrics, the heavy but accessible metal / hard rock sound, and extremely savvy publicity machine (Brian Warner, before he took the stage name Marilyn Manson, was a music journalist with an uncannily sharp nose for how rockstardom worked) ensured Marilyn Manson was constantly in the headlines. And with that, he managed to get himself successfully lapped up by an entire new alternative music generation.

I was never much of a Manson fan to be honest. I don’t own a copy of Antichrist Superstar, from which The Beautiful People is taken, probably because I recall borrowing a mate’s CD copy not long after it came out and not thinking very much of it.

The single that is The Beautiful People represents a throwback to a time when three-track physical releases, put out on the cheap in cardboard sleeves like this one, were a viable way for record labels and distributors to promote themselves, and for pre-streaming / downloads / torrents / YouTube / etc. kids to get their hands on new music.

Those were the days. A widespread alternative music culture was alive and kicking all over Australia — embodied by the tremendous variety and credibility that was The Big Day Out, when it was a genuinely cool alternative festival.

1996 was a good time for a kid to be into alternative music.

Ministry — Twitch

Ministry are a group that its devotees rant and rage over with all their heart, and which I personally took a very long time to ‘get’.

I never actively disliked Ministry. It’s just that they had a sound that kind of didn’t do much for me. The combination of Al Jourgensen’s raspy vocals and the heavily processed, kind of second-fiddle guitar tone just didn’t excite me.

Then one day I had a Ministry breakthrough moment after buying The Last Sucker album, incidentally as part of a previous Heartland Records stash. The first and closing tracks from The Last Sucker — they’re very different but both stompingly good tunes — got me interested in Ministry again, and from there I ‘reverse engineered’ things. I re-discovered classic Ministry albums that I’d previously purchased on reputation alone and from there grew to appreciate all this great music from the Ministry discography that had previously not done much for me.

That’s one of the reasons why I collect physical media. I feel that a predominantly digital-format collection is too ephemeral for my needs. You might not love or appreciate something at the time but you may grow to love and appreciate it later in life.

With digital media it is too easy to forget, which means it is too easily deleted. A physical collection, by virtue of its physical presence, forces you to revisit and re-evaluate. Indeed, I can’t recall the number of times I have bought a release, not thought much of it, shelved it temporarily, and then re-discovered and genuinely re-appreciated it at a later time.

Ministry’s Twitch album is (apparently) a predominantly electronic album. I don’t know how I’ll feel about it compared to later-era, guitar-based Ministry, given that Ministry for me wasn’t love at first sight. And what if it doesn’t grip me first time?

Then I'll shelve it for now and stumble across it at a later time.

Ministry — The Land Of Rape And Honey

Ministry album number three and also the album released immediately after Twitch (above). It’s Ministry’s first attempt to get serious with industrial metal by way of guitars. As with Twitch, I’m not sure what to expect on this one. It’s from Ministry’s early days and is bound to sound remarkably different to later releases.

As for the appalling name… apparently it’s taken from a slogan for a real, actual, genuine location somewhere in America that specialised in rapeseed and other agricultural products. Trust Al Jourgensen to come up with that.

Various — Celebrant 2003 Der Mittelalterliche Klangkörper Zum Wave-Gotik-Treffen

I'll buy you a cookie if you're a non-German speaker and you manage to pronounce "Der Mittelalterliche Klangkörper Zum Wave-Gotik-Treffen" that without inadvertently spitting on yourself.
There are few places in the world where a full-length compilation of artists making Medieval and Medieval-inspired music makes financial sense; there are even fewer places that will host an entire stage playing this style of music at a major international festival.

Germany is one of those very few places. Or possibly the only place.

Wave-Gotik-Treffen is the famous international ‘black scene’ (as the Germans call it) festival where once a year every incoming flight to Leipzig is transformed into Flight Number 666 as thousands of black-clad-wearing freaks invest the city to catch 150 or more bands playing ‘dark’ music, from noise to industrial to goth to — you guessed it — medieval-inspired.

“Der Mittelalteriche Klangkörper” roughly translates as “The Medieval orchestra.”

There are 15 tracks on this compilation from the 2003 “celebration” of the festival. Other than that I have no idea what to expect. I recognise one group here: Corvus Corax, a group associated with Tanzwut, who in my view play the greatest bagpipe / Neue Deutsche Härte rendition of the Beethoven’s Ode To Joy ever recorded.

Medieval-inspired German Medieval music. What’s not to like?

Metallica — Death Magnetic

A few years back I saw this at JB HiFi for the princely sum of $14. At the time I felt that was too much, not because it’s fashionable to trash everything Metallica has touched in the last 20 years (which is laughably easy to do) but because I’d heard so many terrible reports about the dreadful audio compression that Metallica, for all their financial power and production nous, neglected to get right on this album.

Death Magnetic is the album that, apparently, has an unbearably messed up dynamic range. Fans hated it because it could have been a decent album, if only it didn’t sound like arse. Famously, an earlier release of this album's music — released for a video game, no less — didn't get the final dynamic range-ruining, ultra-compression treatment. That is, the video game version sounded far superior.

Nonetheless, I’ve heard worse albums — albeit not from the world’ most successful and best-resourced heavy metal band. For this reason, I felt Death Magnetic shouldn’t be entirely discounted, so I decided to give it a go when I saw it at Heartland Records for the equivalent of $8.

Various — Maschinenfest 2002

Maschinenfest is an annual festival in Germany (of course — where else?) focusing on industrial, noise, experimental and other extreme electronic music.

I’ve got some great stories about Maschinenfest after I went there with a mate in 2013. It was my first ever European festival and the gig (and the trip there and back) was one of my memorable.

I totally had an intriguing, fascinating, thigh-slappingly funny account all written down and ready to share. Then some lowlife burgled our house and stole my stuff. I lost my backup hard drive with a whole bunch of treasured holiday pics.
So that was a bit discouraging.

One day I’ll retell the story of our adventure to Germany and Maschinenfest 2013.

I believe the Maschinenfest organisers release an annual compilation of featured artists. The version here is the 2002 edition, released 10 years before the event I attended, when music (and by music I mean noise) creation technology was less sophisticated. I’ll be interested to see how it stacks up to the 2013 edition, which I vaguely recall I have lying around somewhere.

Imminent Starvation — Nord

Talking of noise, I know of at least one person who claims that hearing this album changed their perspective on industrial music. I don’t know much about Olivier Moreau, the artist behind Imminent Starvation (later renamed just Imminent) although I own his triple seven-inch ‘cowboy-noise’ collaboration with Synapscape. It’s an odd release, being a collaboration of two artists playing rhythmic noise (do the kids still call it powernoise?) and twangy cowboy guitar. For real.

I get the impression that Nord was something of a watershed movement for a lot of people. The individual mentioned above, for example, claimed he lost interest in ‘regular’ EBM after hearing Nord. I’ve heard comparable views, though not quite as drastic, from others over the years.

Nord is eminently dark and foreboding. I heard a few tracks some years back but I was into other, more accessible electronic music at the time. I imagine Nord still holds up today and is as nasty and cold and intense as it was when released in 1999.

God Module — The Magic In my Heart Is Dead

I own the below God Module tour shirt and it makes me feel really old. It’s from God Module’s 2009 Spooky Down Under, which, by my calculation, is getting on to seven years ago. The gig doesn’t feel like it was that long ago, hence why it makes me feel old.

God Module circa mid 2000s was a first-tier name that was routinely mentioned on flyers and in conversations when talking about EBM, terror EBM, terror banana, or any other synth-based danceable music with distorted cookie monster vocals.

It feels like yesterday, just seven years ago.

God Module releases up to 2005’s Viscera album were good, but I thought the follow up, 2007’s Let’s Go Dark, wasn’t as strong. It was fun and had a couple of good tracks, but I felt it didn’t have quite the same strong song-writing qualities from previous releases.

The Magic In my Heart Is Dead was a follow-up EP released in 2010, the first major new release after Let’s Go Dark. I haven’t heard it yet, but I’m keen to know where God Module went with this.

Mz O and Her Guns — Damnation / Salvation

Despite the fact that I spent years attending goth clubs and gigs, spent a lot of time hanging out with goths, and for some time back there probably devoted considerable energy (or at least, considerably more than I should have) to dressing like a goth, I really didn’t get that heavily into goth rock.

I loved all the new EBM and industrial music that I was discovering every week; I loved the huge stripe of alternative music that got played at goth clubs; and when bona fide gothic actually rock got played, I rarely objected to it. However, I just wasn't that heavily into gothic rock. The most extensive collection from a gothic rock artist that I own amounted to half a dozen or more CDs from Australians Ikon. I’ll happily concede that this anomaly in my collection has a lot to do with them being a local group that I gladly wanted to support and which I saw play live on numerous occasions.

Otherwise, my CD collection lacks a significant guitar-based trad goth component (at least as a proportion to my heavy metal and EBM / industrial collection). It’s a shame really, because there is so much excellent trad goth music out there outside of club floor hits.

I wonder sometimes if this dearth in appreciating trad goth rock music had something to do with the radical anti-EBM stance of some of the traditional purists from my clubbing days. Without mentioning names, there was (as is commonly the case with alternative groups) a certain group of people who loudly trumpeted the traditional gothic rock cause, and who were openly hostile to anything that sounded EBM-related. It led to dramas and arguments and silly feuds, and I suspect they played a part in putting me off gothic rock for so long.
Now this was all a very long time ago. We've all grown older and more chilled out. I’d like to think that all parties kissed and made up, or at least feel they could do if called on to do so.

More to the point, it’s never too late to get to love new music. And while one CD from a Christian Death vocalist is a small start, it’s a good starting point nonetheless. I hope Mz O and Her Guns does an unprejudiced job of opening my mind to more trad goth rock.

Assemblage 23 — Defiance

Assemblage 23 is one of those prime offenders who specialised in the above-mentioned EBM devil’s music. I owned the mandatory EBM-goth-industrial club floor filler that was the Disappoint single (more of an EP really) – specifically, that Funker Vogt remix that wows you when you hear it when you enter a club for the first time, and three years later makes you cringe because they’re still playing it. Like come on, they could at least play one of the other six remixes, right? Oh wait, no one will dance if they do that.

Alas, what’s the old adage? The DJ can please all the people some of the time, and some of the people all the time, but never all the people all the time.

Tom Shear (that’s Mr Assemblage 23) is a cool dude. I saw him perform live once and I follow his witty, clever, and genuinely interesting Facebook posts. Apart from the Disappoint single, I own one other Assemblage 23 album, 2004’s Storm (along with two accompanying singles).

I’m not that familiar with his earlier material, like Defiance here, or his later three albums, so this is a good start for a ‘staple’ of the EBM / future-pop that I love and danced to so much.

Nine Inch Nails — The Day The World Went Away

Have you ever listened to an album and thought, wow, how I wish I’d discovered this artist all those years ago when I was an angry teenager / was going through a hard time / was still into good music / etc?

My proper introduction to Nine Inch Nails was when a friend lent me The Fragile double-album. It was 1999, I was in the final stretch of my last year of school, I was desperately trying to figure out where I fit into the world by way of establishing my identity, and I was grappling with all the intense anxieties that come with being 17 years old.

At the time, I thought the first disc of The Fragile was ok. I especially liked (and still do) the epic track We’re In This Together. However, this was pretty much my first foray into electronic music and I vaguely recall wondering just what the big deal was with this band called Nine Inch Nails. CD burning and ripping, let alone file sharing, wasn't prevalent, and I eventually returned my borrowed copy to my mate and didn’t think much of it.

Believe it or not, it wasn't until year later that I got to hear the masterpiece that was The Downward Spiral. Sure, I’d heard Closer and other tracks from the album a million times in clubs, but I’d never sat down to appreciate and properly listen to The Downward Spiral in my own time.

Which is a real shame. In fact, the very thought makes me genuinely sad.

That’s because there is no doubt in my mind that I would have absolutely latched onto the angst and dark themes and sharp, contrasting moods that make up The Downward Spiral. Looking back at my 14 to 17-year-old self, I can easily imagine being blown by away this album, reading into every skerrick of subtext, interpreting every minute part, and totally identifying with this album’s nihilistic meaning, man.

14 to 17 years old is a profoundly formative age. Among the many, many, many things going on at that age that shape who you are and who you become, it’s also the age when you figure out what music works for you. We all move on to discover and love new and exciting music as we move along (or in some cases, tragically leave it all behind), but the albums that we discover and angstily identify with when we’re young will always occupy an unassailably special place in our hearts.

I know that The Downward Spiral should have been one of those albums for me. But alas, somehow it flew past me. By the time I finally got around to listening to The Downward Spiral, it was too late to become a ‘formative’ album. I got The Fragile instead.

As I said, The Fragile wasn’t a bad album. And now that I got my hands on The Day The World Went Away single here, the first single from The Fragile, I genuinely appreciate the mellowness, rich guitar production, and vibe of this track.

But without trying to diss Trent, The Fragile was — for this confused 17-year-old boy who, like others like him, didn’t know his arse form his elbow and therefore based a large part of his identity on the music he loved — the wrong introduction.

Various — The O-Files

Once upon a time I bought 25kg of music from an independent record store. They were closing down and decided to sell their remaining stock by the kilo.
There was I, patting myself on the back for thinking what a fortune I would make on ebay. Then I gradually discovered that this scheme didn’t quite work as planned.
I’m embarrassed to say though that I did this more than once (see my story on buying too much music).

One of the collections I purchased contained a large amount of early to mid-90s industrial and EBM. This was music from an era when goth and industrial were still stewing (sort of) in similar black cesspits. They were less culturally distinct than they were by the turn of the millennia, and bright, fluffy, fluoro raver and graver gear wasn’t a common thing (yet).
The O-Files is a compilation, named after releases on the Off Beat record label.
This record label is known not only for its influential roster, but also because it led directly to the creation of Dependent Records after its demise. Based in Germany, Off Beat and especially its 'spiritual successor' released multitudes of synthy, danceable, future-pop-like or cookie-monster-vocal-accompanied EBM and industrial from artists that became a big deal in the first decade of the new millennium.

Often in concert with the enormous (relatively speaking, anyway) Metropolis records, Dependent released a whole bunch of albums from the likes of Seabound, Covenant, VNV Nation, Suicide Commando, Velvet Acid Christ, and many more.

All of these artists had originally either appeared in some way on the Off Beat roster (either signed or at least distributed through it in some way), or otherwise took their cue and inspiration from the artists on this label.

Having said that, the industrial and electronic music from this era doesn’t blow me away. The production and recording equipment has that distinct ’90s filter, something which I think you had to be around for at the time to genuinely appreciate.

This isn’t to say that there wasn’t a shortage of ripper music released during this time, only that I personally prefer a late ’90s and onwards sound when it comes to EBM / industrial / aggrotech / whatever terror banana sound.

The O-Files is four singles from four artists: Numb, Click Clic, Individual Totem and New Mind (albeit with several remixes). This is always a nice way to better understand the breadth of an artist because, despite being ostensibly a compilation, this makes it almost album-like. Indeed, anyone who collects compilations knows that the old one-track-per-artist compilation is a notoriously hit and miss method to appreciate an artist.

Of course, this being a singles collection, I’m expecting some filler from the remixes. Then again, I may strike obscure gold.

Skinny Puppy — Too Dark Park

Talking of a ’90s filter, how about a late ’80s filter? Like Nine Inch Nails, Skinny Puppy was a Big Deal in industrial music, yet they’re a group I was never into. With Nine Inch Nails it was a case of just two ships passing in the night, whereas with Skinny Puppy it was a case of missing the boat entirely.

I suspect I just wasn’t quite old enough to Dig It with Skinny Puppy (see what I did there?). That is, Nine Inch Nails was a big phenomenon when I was around that I somehow missed, whereas Skinny Puppy was probably five to ten years before my time for me to be really in the right state of mind, at the right time of life, to ‘get’ them.

I’ve bought a couple of Skinny Puppy albums over the years. Some of their early, ’80-era material in particular has me wondering in amazement just how a couple of miscreant kids managed to create such varied and messed up sounds with nothing more than a minimal music setup that they brapped away at over the weekend.

Too Dark Park was Skinny Puppy album number six. I’m wondering if it will be my breakthrough Skinny Puppy moment. If not, like so many releases before it (and as has been mentioned several times already) I’ll simply relegate it until it calls me again at some other time, which in this instance will hopefully be the right time.

C-TEC — Cut

Cut is the second album from this industrial EBM ‘super group’ that was at various times called Cyber-Tec Project, C-Tec, and (according to some releases, albeit listed incorrectly) Cyber Tec.

Their track Let Your Body Die, released in 1995, was popular club hit with a sound that still stands up today — no small achievement given that it’s more than 20 years old!

Cyber-Tec Project counted amongst its members the unmistakeable voice of Front 242 vocalist Jean-Luc De Meyer, plus at various times (live or in the studio) members of Cubanate and even the drummer from Nitzer Ebb.

In addition to Let Your Body Die, which featured its own EP and numerous remixes, I was also a fan of a few tracks on C-TEC’s first album, Darker, a mellow electronic album that takes some getting used and which has long moments that sound nothing like barn-storming, dancefloor-hit stomping dance tracks.

Jean-Luc De Meyer’s vocals, as I said, are unmistakeable. I feel that even a lousy EBM track is made better thanks merely to his contribution. Given the talented pool of people involved in the creation of Cyber-Tec Project / C-Tec material, Cut is unlikely to sound dated, despite being more than 15 years old. It might, however, take some getting used to.

Sunn O))) — Void

So I’ve mentioned three or so times on this page already that the best thing to do with a release if you don’t dig it right away is to hold onto it and revisit at a later time.

This is one of the reasons I trash and criticise albums outright. How you feel about music — even music you don’t like — is so very subjective and dependent on countless external factors not strictly related to how an album sounds.
These factors can range from what your personal expectations are about a release you’ve been waiting for, to whether you’re stressed that day, to whether something meaningful is happening in your life at that moment, which just happens to coincide with you playing a particular lot of music on repeat. The significance and prevalence of all these factors and so many, many, many more can change from week to week or from year to year. Their combined mass amounts to how you would otherwise feel about a certain artist, release, song, or genre. Hence, as I keep saying, if you don’t like something one day, it’s always a good idea to revisit it later; and hence, this is one reason why I love physical media, because it’s harder to delete and forget a physical item.

But once in a while I will come across something that, try and try as I do, just is not for me.

Drone metallers Sunn O))) are apparently one such group.

A mate strongly recommended Sunn O))). So did a record store owner.

And as far as I can tell, abandoning a guitar next to an amp to make feedback noise for an hour is not too dissimilar to this studio-recorded Sunn O))) album.

Perhaps I’ll revisit this 10 or 15 years from now, like I did with the Ministry and Nine Inch Nails releases listed here. Maybe then Sunn O))) will finally sense.

Until then, I’ll stand by the adage that if one doesn’t have anything nice to say, it’s best not to say anything at all.

Clearly drone metal isn’t for me. Goodness, what a snooze fest!