Siculicidium - Land Beyond The Forest | Romanian black metal

I have a deep affection for hand-drown, black and white, low-fi black metal album illustrations.

I suspect it stems from growing up with very early Dungeons & Dragons manuals (as in, the very first editions, before it became Advanced Dungeons & Dragons 2^nd Edition) and their wonderfully cheap-looking and somewhat out of proportion monster and warrior illustrations.

Incidentally, if that doesn’t sound very metal to you, keep in mind the unsung influence of D&D on metal and black metal in particular (not that I condone Varg Vikernes’ atrocious behaviour, but the cover of Det Som Engang Var is a knock off of The Temple Of Elemental Evil).

But that aside, for this reason I like the artwork on last year’s Land Beyond The Forest EP by Romania’s Siculicidium.

Land Beyond The Forest

Siculicidium - Land Beyond The Forest 

Notwithstanding the fact that the cover illustration is courtesy of Witchfinder from none other than Reverend Bizarre, Land Beyond The Forest is a mixed bag. Siculicidium’s previous full-length, Hosszú Út Az Örökkévalóságba (yeah, I had trouble saying it too) was in 2013, and this follow-up consists of an intro and three new tracks, plus three covers, including a Swans track.

It’s fairly crude black metal, not massively fast or blast-beaty or violent. I feel it’s kind of unimaginative and is dominated by the same growly and inhuman albeit monotonous vocals.

In fact, main-man Béla Lugosi told Zero Tolerance magazine after its release: “Sadly, we couldn’t catch the perfect atmosphere when we recorded. I’m not so happy with the final result, only the drums by Khrul are great!”

Those drums, incidentally, are pretty basic. There is little in the way of fills, texture, or much of anything else, and they could easily be replicated by a machine.

But whatever. People obviously dig Siculicidium. That’s why they’ve got two full-lengths and four EPs. Plus, the world needs more Eastern European black metal bands.

The subjective question of whether the Land Beyond The Forest EP is ‘good’ is secondary to the fact that their music just happens to work for those who appreciate black metal that is minimalist but not overly atmospheric (in itself a black metal paradox — and a discussion for a different time). That, I feel, is something that comes through in the album artwork.

Entire volumes could be written — which makes it yet another discussion for another time — on the paradox of associating and separating any visual aesthetic with black metal music itself.

As far as I’m concerned, if you go to the effort of selecting suitable album artwork, let alone commission something specific, then the element of your art that happens to be visual is a direct reflection of the remainder of that same work of art, which happens to be sonic.

Which means that, like the sound of the Land Beyond The Forest EP, so too is the picture on the cover — created and commissioned  with the intent of bringing to life the recording — a reflection and an expression of that minimalist aesthetic.

With this album cover, I love the hand-drawn qualities to the trees, the winding path, the wacky over-sized mushrooms, and the portal to another world. It embodies the weirdness, the absolute niche nature of this music, and brilliantly captures the folky, dark fantasy lore nature of what this band is about, even if it’s something that doesn't necessarily come out merely by listening to it, but has to be learned by way of explanation.

The only thing that’s not so cool? The hard-to-miss and juvenile erotic stylisation of female genitals into that gate.

For all its dark grimness, Siculicidium - Land Beyond The Forest clearly has an element of tongue in cheek going for 

• Siculicidium Bandcamp page

Winter Solstice Damnation III | Gigs I should have said something about at the time

There’s this thing that I do when I’m at gigs. I’m getting into it, enjoying the show, and then a few songs into a set I take a photo on my phone. I don’t take many photos, mind you, just a couple of quick shots in succession (because I’m not a homicide-inducing wanker who repeatedly blocks your view with a phone when I’m at a gig). A few seconds later, and with the shots finished, I approvingly assure myself that I’m totally going to blog about this night in the near future.

Except, life and all its tiredness and distractions and mundanity get in the way. Before I know it, I’m at another gig, taking more shots, telling myself the same thing. Then life gets in the way yet again. Eventually, I end up with a phone full of gig photos. And as everyone knows, if it’s not on the internet, it didn’t happen, right?

I do this so often that I finally decided to do something about it, so I started a series of posts very imaginatively called Gigs I should have said something about at the time. Mostly it’s me posting photos from a year or six ago or even more. So this time I’m going to post about a very recent gig — in fact, it took place just last Saturday. Hahaha, who am I kidding? That was when I wrote the draft. This was totally a month ago now.

That makes it one of those Gigs I should have said something about at the time — and totally did this time. Well, kind of. That gig was…

Winter Solstice Damnation III at The Tote, June 24, 2017

As the name implies Winter Solstice Damnation is an annual celebration of bands across the spectrum of black, death, blackened thrash, and other assortments of extreme heavy metal sounds lovingly described in terms like dark and putrid and frostbitten.

Held once a year near the Winter Solstice (like, just in case that part wasn’t clear), it draws in a marvellous assortment of local and interstate bands play this style of music.

Before I progress further, I must concede that I did not make it to the venue until quite late in the evening. Remember what I said about life and all its tiredness and distractions and mundanity getting in the way? So, regrettably, I only caught the last three performances.

Dead River Runs Dry

The first of these (the sixth on the bill) was Dead River Runs Dry, out of NSW. My first exposure to Dead River Runs Dry was a year or so earlier, via a rather good track, Skull Of The Wind, on a Terrorizer magazine CD compilation. It’s an excellent starting point from an outfit that plays what (for lack of a better description) might best be referred as something akin to orthodox black metal, with some soaring hooks and epic melodies thrown in.

Kudos also to their vocalist who played the whole set both shirtless and shoeless. As the “Winter Solstice” part of the festival’s name makes clear, this event occurs on the longest and darkest night of the year. This is Melbourne folks — to put things in perspective, I had to don my thick winter gloves just to actually be able to hold my pint in the beer garden. On the other hand, perhaps this was counteracted by the fact that all members of Dead River Runs Dry were blessed with beards? A good volume of facial hair no doubt helps contribute to maintaining core body temperature — and as a bonus, did you know it acts as a passive sun block?

• Dead River Runs Dry Bandcamp

AK-11

Melbourne’s AK-11 were next up — and they must surely get the award for best outfits. Words are likely inadequate to convey the effort that went into the attire and its stark effect, so the grainy still below (original video via CoveOfQueenSalma - check out some nice footage of the event).

Here was fast, nasty, vitriolic black metal that felt like it was played with a dose of snarly punk attitude, except that the name of the game was hatred and misanthropy.

But… those outfits… if I am not mistaken, that was an Austrian pattern, minus sleeves, matched with DIY corpse paint. Incredibly, the cammo pattern and corpse paint, not to mention front-man Valak’s impressive tattoo sleeves, blended in uncannily well.

• AK-11 Bandcamp

 Ignivomous

Finally it was the headliner’s turn: Ignivomous.

How to describe the bleak death metal darkness that is this band? What is the sound of a group that doesn’t even pretend to venture close to this thing that vanilla folks term “accessible”? If extreme music is meant to be unrelenting and merciless and uncompromisingly bleak and overwhelming in every way then Ignivomous tick every box.

Yet in that beer garden, before they got on stage, I witnessed one chap express his sincere joy and appreciation at finally being able to see Ignivomous live.

“I’ve been waiting 10 years to see you guys,” he said. It turns out he was a long-time fan who lived in the sticks so he’d never gotten around to seeing a live Ignivomous show.

From listening in to this conversation I was once more reminded that one should not judge someone’s character based purely on appearances. This chap wasn’t even wearing a black t-shirt — it was white! — yet here was quite possibly the most devout Ignivomous fan in the room.

A few tracks into the band’s barrage — yes, barrage is a term that gets thrown in far too often, but “set” underrated the aural blindness down the front, as I was — it was revealed that this gig would mark 10 years since Ignivomous formed — and that it would also be guitarist Matt’s last official show with the band. To mark the occasion they even dug into the very early demo days.

After, when it was all done, I was reminded that “ignivomous” is a no-longer-used term to describe the act of vomiting fire. If one had to pick a soundtrack to accompany such an indescribably extreme phenomenon, that would likely be it.

• Ignivomous Bandcamp on Nuclear War Now (note, the download and merch page links seem to be temporarily down).

A final word

No, the Tote was not packed to capacity that night, yet the turnout was Aussie-decent, given the prevailing winter conditions. Plus, it was reassuring to see the beer garden less than full during actual performances.

I will never cease to consider myself fortunate — and neither should you — for as long as this phenomenon we call the ‘scene’ continues to exist in Melbourne.

Every other week there is an event that involves usually (but not always) black-clad, usually (but not always) long-haired people getting up on stages and (yes, always) making one hell of a racket as they play dark, nasty, messed up noise.

Whatever the merits of individual bands, it is a privilege to know that the forces of darkness are not going away any time 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.

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?

Malichor play blackened thrash at the Reverence Hotel | Awesome gigs I should have said something about at the time

I usually try to snap at least one photo when I’m at a good gig. It’s normally on my phone so the images are inevitably dark (because it’s a dark gig venue) and blurry (because it’s a dark gig venue, and dark gig venues sell beer). I do this to have something to refer to later when I feel compelled to share with my friends and acquaintances this tale of a great band they should totally check out. Then I end up forgetting about it and over the years I end up with an ever-accumulating collection of dark and blurry gig photos.

Today I decided to do something about it. I’ve got some awesome anecdotes, you know. You’re going to love them. So here is the first of…

Awesome gigs I should have said something about at the time

Blackened thrash metallers Malichor rocking out at the Reverence Hotel.

Malichor at the Reverence Hotel, November 14, 2015 was a good gig. And I’ll start by pointing out that what got me here in the first place wasn’t entirely the music.

I came to this conclusion after I caught up with a mate the other night. He’s into punk, making noise, Napalm Death, synths, and The Jesus and Mary Chain.

Naturally we got talking about music and during this conversation we agreed that music, like art, is ostensibly something you’re meant to appreciate on its merits alone. You’re not meant to buy into an image or a faux portrayal of an artist’s persona because the things you like about the music are meant to be the qualities that make it intrinsically artistic.

Or are they?

The music you love — just like the art — has an inescapable emotive side that may very well be about something other than the way it sounds. It could be a front-person’s likeable and magnetic personality. It could be an intellectual view, found in the lyrics or in the concept that ‘defines’ what an artist stands for. Indeed, the main attraction might even be a moral or political principle that the band ‘stands for’ — whatever that means these days.

There is, of course, nothing wrong with loving an artist because of something that is not strictly about the music. We all do it to some extent. It’s just that it can be hard to pinpoint precisely where your love for an artist because they make great tunes ends, and where that love begins because their music embodies something beyond or other than the mere sounds they create.

This is especially so where the interaction between artist and fan is up-close and personal — such as at the bar after a gig.

Heavy metal in Melbourne

This is how I found myself seeing Melbourne blackened thrash metallers Malichor at the Reverence Hotel on November 14, 2015. My reason for being there was something that (strictly speaking) had less to do with the way a certain bit of music sounds.

It started in late 2014 when I was enjoying a drink at The Cabal, an inner-city Melbourne bar that once a month played (pre-recorded) awesome heavy metal all night, at a civilised volume that allows you to talk without shredding your throat. Great music and superb playlists aside, the venue also offers a magnificent 100-plus beer selection. Why oh why will Cabal not return as a monthly event?

There I was, enjoying an obscure beer with a mate, when this tall fellow walks up to us and politely, but confidently and sincerely, hands us a flyer. Dean is his name and his band is playing a gig. If we like Celtic Frost and other solid black, death and thrash names, he says, we might be keen.

We start talking about bands we like (what else?) and the venue’s voluminous beer selection. I should point out that I’ve been frequenting seedy venues places that play good music for many years and I’ve been approached countless times by people whose sole motive is to distribute flyers, because shoving a flyer in someone’s face while you’re in the toilet line is guaranteed to get more payers to your gig.

But not this chap. Far from it. No one in our party got such a vibe. In fact, it seems like a small and at best trivial encounter, hardly worth the brain room it occupies in one’s beer-corroded memory. Yet perhaps this small exchange resonated in the cynic in us all.

Once upon a time, promoting an event involved spending a lot of time getting to know people face-to-face, hanging out in shops and record stores, doing the rounds with flyers and event posters. Now it comes down to how many people you (probably don’t) know online and, more recently, how much you’re prepared to pay Facebook — to reach the vast majority of people who wouldn’t otherwise see your posts despite being your ‘friend’.

In fact, I wasn’t the only one who felt that way that night. A sludge-and-blues-loving guitarist virtuoso friend at our table who also works professionally on sets and stages (‘roadie’ is so 1985, right?) made this point: “Because of that I am going to see your band”.

A few months later I was again at The Cabal, where I bumped into Dean once more. This time he was nice enough to give me a physical promo copy of his band’s latest release, Malichor: Ride As One (because you know, I'm such a super-influential blogger, yes?). Again, instead of talking about his next gig we had a good, honest talk about metal (and beer probably). Then I randomly started seeing ads from local distributor Infernal Devastation Records who just happened to have the Malichor: The Lost City release (a compilation of earlier Malichor EPs) and so I got my hands on a copy.

Malichor: The Lost City

Malichor: The Lost City is fun, honest, sometimes rocking blackened thrash metal, or whatever the kids call it these days. The Malichor Reverb Nation promotional page isn’t too far off when it says they sort of sound like Desaster, Destroyer 666, Celtic Frost, Venom, and Kreator.

It’s not going to get them headlining Wacken but it’s good, honest, fun heavy metal that pays tribute to an era when extreme metal hadn’t been done before and was a raw force that had only just begun to figure out its identity.

So this is how, one year on, more or less, is how I found myself seeing Malichor at the Reverence Hotel in Footscray, Melbourne, basically off the strength of a couple of friendly conversations at an awesome bar, plus a creepy (you have no idea just how much) Facebook algorithm that knows exactly when to serve me advertising for things that I may want to end up buying.
Melbourne is blessed with a lot of death metal and black metal gigs. “Filthy disgusting music for filthy disgusting venues” is how I like to call it, except that the Reverence Hotel is not filthy and disgusting. On the contrary, it’s a big venue that regularly puts on extreme music with a very respectable band room, a wonderful Mexican kitchen menu, and a spacious beer garden. As I’ve said before, any suburb worth living in should have its own little rock pub.

I never thought I’d say this, and I’ll probably upset someone by saying so, but Melbourne is almost spoilt for choice when it comes to local death metal gigs (international names are a different set altogether). No doubt it will change one day, but there are a surprisingly many local, unknown bands vying for your attention.

As mentioned, so much of promotion nowadays has become indirect and faceless. Sure, making your art available for free on Bandcamp and Spotify is now mandatory, but in true first-world-problem style, for many would-be-punters (who themselves know they’re so spoilt for choice) that would require genuine additional effort. What an age we live in…

It’s the small things that sometimes count when presented with the possibility of seeing one blackened thrash metal band I’ve never heard of compared to that other blackened thrash metal band that I’ve never heard of.

Sure, innovate and find clever new ways to get people to come to your gig. But at the same time, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. To use an old adage… keep it real.

Top five Tuesday: 21 July, 2015

Here are five artists or releases that have been on high rotation this week. Mostly (but not all) heavy metal, and mostly new stuff — and all worth checking out.

Ozzy Osbourne: No More Tears

Someone ought to popularise a single-word term to describe the phenomenon of buying up a legitimate CD, vinyl record or digital version of a copied recording they owned when they were young.

Are you old enough to have owned dubbed cassette tapes (far out, just saying that makes me feel old!)? Or did you play burnt CD-Rs based on low-bitrate MP3s? If you did, chances are some of your most formative music was among those recordings.

You were likely a teenager back then, which is when so many of us discovered the music that shaped a substantial part of our identity — and the reason you burnt or downloaded that music was because, like most teenagers, you probably couldn’t afford much. Which is why nowadays, you acquire your music through legitimate means that support artists, right? Right?

The fact that the zeitgeist of an album or artist may have passed between then and now is a separate discussion. I’ve mentioned numerous times how I believe there is a biological reason why it becomes harder to discover new music as you get older.

So putting that aside for now, I can happily report that I owned a copy of Ozzy Osbourne: No More Tears on dubbed cassette when I was a kid. I’ve now replaced it with this here copy, which I acquired for the princely sum of $1 at an op shop. It was part of a good haul of heavy metal CDs that someone had (shamefully!) gotten rid of.

Can you believe it was 50 per cent off the $2 cover price?

No More Tears didn’t define me as my first Iron Maiden cassette tapes did but it’s still a great place to start for any 10-year-old getting into heavy metal and hard rock. Ozzy Osbourne’s sixth solo-album, released in 1991, this album has some rocking songs and some great riffs — albeit with a strong glam feel to it.

Ozzy Osbourne was ‘only’ 42 years old at the time. Although he was already something of an elder statesman of rock and metal, he wasn’t anywhere near the old-man parody of today. Hence, an Ozzy Osbourne album meant a lot more to ‘the kids’ back then than it would now. Hey, remember what I just said about zeitgeist and cultural significance then and now?

No More Tears has some great Zakk Wylde guitar riffs. The title track, despite clocking in at seven and a half minutes, brings a really cool, weird, progressive side to the music. And Lemmy — yes, that Lemmy — co-wrote several songs. He told Classic Rock magazine: “When I came to America I was broke, I had nothing in the bank… Sharon Osbourne said, “Do you want to write four songs?” and they handed me this lump sum that was more money than I’d ever seen in my life. More money than I’d ever earned with Hawkwind and Motorhead.”

On the more dubious side, No More Tears has some incredibly sappy ballads, among them Mama, I’m Coming Home — which of course became Ozzy’s most successful single.

Either way, it’s not surprising that No More Tears is the second-highest-selling album in the Ozzy Osbourne discography, after his debut, Blizzard Of Oz.

A personal highlight is the track Hellraiser, also co-written by Lemmy (as if a track called Hellraiser wouldn’t be written by Lemmy). Oddly enough, both Ozzy and Motörhead released this track, the Motörhead version appearing on the Hellraiser 3 movie soundtrack.

You may think you’re awesome, but you’ll never be Lemmy-winning-at-cards-against-the-Cenobite-Hellraiser-himself-awesome.

Xerosun

I first came across Xerosun on the Terrorizer magazine Fear Candy #142 compilation CD. I’ve heard just two tracks, yet I can’t quite put my finger on why I keep coming back to them. They’re real growers.

Xerosun are an Irish metal band that play a kind of vaguely groove metal-ish metal, with some good riffs and a vocalist in Martyna Halas who can pull off a neat balance between clean and growled vocals.

For some reason — I really can’t put my finger on it — there’s just something about those riffs combined with her dual voice that brings me back again and again. While I make no secret that I absolutely love female metal vocals, I strongly suspect it’s the Irish accent. Once you hear it, you can’t unhear it.

I think the video is kind of distracting. Listen to the talent at play here.

Because Xerosun are fronted by a woman, and a very attractive one at that, the metal world will of course in many cases judge them (and Martyna Halas  especially) way above and beyond what so many male-fronted regular shit metal band would be subjected to. Or should that be shite metal bands?

Hopefully by next century the double standard that is so prevalent in metal will be gone. As I mention below, there need to be more women making this kind of music. That way, twice as many people will show up to your gigs.

Listen to that Oirish accent in that growl. See? Now you can’t unhear it.

Bad Guys

Bad Guys: Guynaecology is the recently released album from these London-based rockers. Apart from the ingenious album name, think sleazy, straight-down-the-road, beer-soaked rock in a smoky pub somewhere. If they were Australian, I’d call them Aussie dickhead rock.

When Kevin Stewart-Panko reviewed Bad Guys’ Guynaecology album in Terrorizer he savagely rated it 2 out of 10. “Parts of the album’s second half iron out bits of the bullshit and present some halfway decent, hard rocking stoner sludge, but there’s little beyond a clever title to make this this worth investigating,” he said.

I can see why someone might not like this album. It’ simple rock that is heavily reliant on the vocalist’s personality and storytelling talent. According to the band, they got rejected from Metal Archives for not being metal enough.

After one listen, Bad Guys: Guynaecology didn’t strike me as overly memorable — except for this stand-out track. I said the Bad Guys vocalist is a story-teller, and the track Crime tells how he really, really, really wants… a Tonka truck. This one’s an ear-worm quality and the track kind of just stays with you. You’ll have to listen to it in full to hear the total non-twist at the end.

The also have another song called Prostitutes (Are Making Love In My Garden).

Lucy Cliche

You know, there just aren’t enough women electronic music producers around. You know what would happen if there were more women making electronic music? We’d have twice as many people show up at shows. Which would be great for everyone.

I don’t know much about Lucy Cliche (check out her Soundcloud account), only that she’s from Sydney and is probably a synth-hardware nerd of the best kind.

I saw Lucy Cliche perform as one of the support for Melbourne’s Forces at a recent gig. We watched this solitary performer get on stage, start twiddling knobs and buttons, and get a whole room of people going.

There were four people in our entourage and at least two of them I would consider synth people. According to these synth-nut observers, her setup was entirely from hardware. That is, there were none of those laptops — an impressive feat, I’m told.

Lucy Cliche does not make the kind of electronic music I get into at all. I like my electronic music to be dark and hard and nasty. Listening to this though, there’s just something somewhat entrancing and inviting. I’m not sure what that quality is — maybe it’s simply because she’s a good producer — but I guarantee you I wouldn’t be listening to this if I hadn’t seen here live.

That’s one of the great things about getting off your arse and checking out live shows and their support. It gets you into new music that you wouldn’t normally follow.

Ninkharsag

Really, really good black metal from the UK. I came across these guys almost at random, when I read a gig report about another group for which Ninkharsag just happened to be the support. The report described Ninkharsag as “one of the UK’s best new black metal bands” — and if their newest album is anything to go by, this may be true.

Ninkharsag are from Liverpool and are signed to Candlelight Records, the same label that has at various times put out releases from the Marduk and Emperor discography.

Their April 2015 album, The Blood Of Celestial Kings, is my only point of reference so far. It’s well-produced black metal, leaning on the more up-tempo side, played kind of straight down the line. It’s neither mind-blowing nor radically different, being neither symphonic or lo-fi or excessively weird or atmospheric. Rather, it might best be described as ‘traditional’ black metal — and it’s done really, really well. Have a listen to any track, in any order.
Also, really cool artwork and band name.

Top Tuesday 27.05.14: Australian grindcore and classic black metal

So I once had this plan to make Top Tuesdays a regular thing. The idea was to not be too clever, but to simply talk about what’s been on high rotation this week.

After checking when I did the last one (because it was totally going to be a regular thing) I found that it was… uh… just over a year ago. So I should really be more consistent.

ALTERNATIVE AND UNDERGROUND MUSIC THIS WEEK

It sounds odd, but I have not enjoyed this week’s Top Tuesday releases very much. Most of this week’s the items on high rotation this week are the latest ‘discoveries’ from a secondhand metal collection I bought in June 2013 (‘novelties’ may be a more appropriate term). A labour of love, every week I’ve managed to get through a handful of albums from the original 200-CD lot, give or take a few. At last count I’ve whittled it down to the last 70.

Now I’m rather keen to get through this lot before the end of the year. Hence the high rotation of tracks which I may not be all that into. After all, every true music nerd knows that to really understand an album, you have to give it a proper listen to see if it grows on you. Of course, it could be a grudge listen maybe, but it’s still a proper listen. Because how else can I complain I didn’t get my money’s worth?

Here is what has received particular attention this week.

Very, Very Dead & Gory: A Veritable Paragon Of Wholesome Family Entertainment

The name is the best part about this band. And by “best part” I mean this outfit has a funny name. And. Well, uhm… yeah.

Very, Very Dead & Gory was a Melbourne-based outfit playing generic, thinly produced Aussie dickhead grind core. I mean that in the best possible sense. I couldn’t understand any lyrics on A Veritable Paragon Of Wholesome Family Entertainment but I’m going to assume that if one could, the prose would be masterfully hilarious. I’d like to imagine that the guys recording this had a blast, just dicking around, drinking (most likely) and making bad music. The music on this album is so dumb it’s fun. Indeed, check out the shamelessly sampled Burroughs Asshole (sic), a spoken word sequence ripped from Naked Lunch about a man whose asshole began to talk.

The closing track, Let The Grass Grow, is a 12+ minute epic — of which 8 minutes consist entirely of a recording of a lawnmower in action.

No doubt it was a brutal lawnmower.

 Very, Very Dead & Gory: A Veritable Paragon Of Wholesome Family Entertainment.

Alas, the band name and album title are the best parts.

Emperor / Enslaved: Hordanes Land

If you know your black metal then you’ll know why this split album is historically significant. Two of black metal’s most important acts made their ‘proper’ debut on this release.
Both Emperor and Enslaved started out on this record by playing that atrociously-produced, fuzzed out, shrieking, dangerous new music that became known as black metal (ok ultra kvlt smartarse, yes, it’s technically second-generation black metal — and if you can point that out, you’ve presumably also written to Metal Archives and asked them to remove your band listing because someone on the internet got a hold of one of your 50 hand-signed goat skin cassette pressings and uploaded the details on the internet).

Where was I? On Hordanes Land, both Emperor and Enslaved tried their hands at daring experimentation, though it’s often hard to hear it properly because of album’s toilet-grade production.

Despite the ostensibily subversive nature of black metal, paradoxically, black metal is also legendary for being so insular. Not in this case though: Emperor sow the seeds of what would become super-dense guitar fuzz and keyboard production (although the songs are essentially demo tracks); and Enslaved just do some straight out weird sounds and arrangements.

It’s not surprise that both Emperor and Enslaved eventually became black metal bands that took on densely produced, weird, progressive music as a trademark sound — the latest Enslaved album  RIITIIR and Emperor main-dude Ihsahn’s solo work being perfect examples.

Also, can I just say that I am in possession of the *cough* original Candlelight Records pressing?

Emperor / Enslaved: Hordanes Land.

When less was better.

Suiciety: Deeper Vision

Generic, weak vaguely-thrash-inspired hardcore, with some vague, equally generic metal bits.

I’ve given it three listens and it just doesn’t do it for me. There are a couple of ok riffs and decent choruses but otherwise that’s it — I just couldn’t find anything memorable here.

They’re from Melbourne, so that’s a plus, but this just isn’t my cup of tea.

As I said at the start of the piece, you have to give it a proper listen to see if it grows on you. After all, how else can I complain I didn’t get my money’s worth?

Suiciety: Deeper Vision.

Aussie hardcore that just didn't do it for me.

Nattefrost: Blood & Vomit to have “Urine” anniversary reissue

Kvlt Norwegian black metaller Nattefrost has announced a special nine-year anniversary re-issue of his infamous debut album: Blood & Vomit.

Released in early 2004, Blood & Vomit was the first solo release by Roger Nattefrost, better known as the dude from Carpathian Forest. A filthy, crusty, stripped down black metal album without any guitar solos or melancholic synth hooks, the album is infamous for its raw recordings of lead-singer Roger Nattefrost’s bodily functions. These appear on the tracks The Art of Spiritual Purification – in which he records himself vomiting – and Nattefrost Takes a Piss (no explanation needed – but seriously, look it up).

Contrary to popular belief, Nattefrost’s performance on The Art of Spiritual Purification was not recorded immediately after hearing the first Evanescence album.

Blood & Vomit. He also plays in Carpathian Forest.

As mentioned, Nattefrost: Blood & Vomit will be re-released as a special commemorative “Blood & Urine” edition that includes a bonus disc of studio outtakes. It will feature the following previously unreleased tracks:

1 Nattefrost takes a piss (remastered)

2 Nattefrost takes a dump

3 Nattefrost has Mexican for dinner

4 Nattefrost destroys a dozen bottles of Grolsch

5 Nattefrost passes out

5 Nattefrost wakes up with an upset stomach

6 Nattefrost runs to the toilet

7 Nattefrost sits on the toilet

8 Nattefrost spends longer than usual on the toilet

9 Nattefrost is still on the toilet

10 Nattefrost is scared to leave the toilet

11 Nattefrost is almost confident that it’s safe to leave the toilet

12 Nattefrost breathes a sigh of relief and is back on the couch

13 Nope, he’s back on the toilet

14 Nattefrost curses God

Said Roger Nattefrost about the new special Blood & Vomit re-issue: “To commemorate the ninth anniversary of the album, the special edition of Blood & Vomit will feature a bonus disc containing unreleased studio out-takes, as well as some of my intestinal outtakes,” he croaked.

“The bonus disc will be strictly limited to 666 copies, with each disc containing a bonus vial of my very own contagious urine.

“How much of myself will I be putting into this re-release? Put it this way: if you were to stand in front a burning church, it would  be enough to extinguish the raging flames. In short, you get a lot of me with every pissing, sorry, I mean pressing.

“Unfortunately, the process is going much slower than expected. I’m drinking like a dozen bottles of Grolsch beer every day but I've only managed to fill 60 vials so far. There are another 606 to go, so it may be the end of the year before all the anniversary edition albums of Blood & Vomit are ready for the fans.”

A delayed album? That is a shame.

Black metal fans will just have to… hold on.

Note: In case you hadn't worked it out, this is a piece of satire.

Is this your (stolen) CD collection?

If you’ve visited this blog before then you may have heard the following story. Namely, a few years ago I purchased two 500-CD lots from independent record stores. On both occasions I thought I’d first enrich my music collection and then make a killing on eBay by flogging off those items I didn’t want — but it turns out I didn’t make very much at all by selling CDs for 99 cents each (also, there was a reason why all those CDs were selling so cheap in the first place).
So I promised myself I’d never do it again. I resisted. For a while anyway. Yet despite my best intentions I recently fell foul of temptation a third time, albeit on a smaller scale. This time it wasn’t a lot of CDs from a record store, but someone’s privately owned (and no doubt once highly cherished) heavy metal music collection.

I came across the below just the other day while having a sticky beak into what looked like a recently opened pawn shop. I walked in and sitting right there on the counter, amongst the overpriced audio-recording gear and sporting implements, was what you see here. It was labelled “heavy metal collection” and after a quick flick through I realised this was no ordinary run-of-the-mill heavy metal CD collection. No, this was someone’s classic death metal, black metal, grindcore and Australian heavy metal collection, painstakingly put together, I estimate, from some time in the mid to late 1990s up to the early 2000s. It was packed with classic items, most of which I don’t own, and it was for sale. Right there. On the shop counter.

A treasure? Or someone's stolen treasure.

I asked the pawn shop sellers how much for the lot and after agreeing on a price I picked it up the next day and proudly posted photos of it on Facebook.

I should mention that the pawn shop accepted cash only (“They want to charge me 17 per cent for EFTPOS,” one of them said). Then when I enquired as to how this collection came to be up for sale I was told something along the lines of the original owner passing it on to another family member, or somesuch, who in turn did not want his offspring to be exposed to “that kind of music”.

At the time it seemed like a vaguely plausible explanation, but after sharing photos of my find with my friends I got a little suspicious.

“Might be worth checking some forums to see if anyone had their collection stolen. Kinda odd it’s not been sorted and still in racks!” said one person, adding “I wouldn’t advertise it as some douche will probably try and claim it. But just scan to see?”

“There are pretty good laws in place that second-hand stores have to follow about cataloguing and holding onto things for a set time first. If the owner’s gone to the cops there is a paper trail,” said another. “Hmmm…” I thought.

As a heavy metal lover and passionate collector of CDs, vinyl, and gimmicky merch, I sincerely understand what a collection like this means — or at least meant at some point — to its owner. More to the point, I myself was burgled two or so years ago and while the stolen laptop and DJ CD decks were easily replaced, the bile-inducing anger that is the thought of someone breaking into your house was much harder to forget. Fact is, I would be mortified if I discovered I was in possession of someone’s stolen treasure.

WAS IT STOLEN?

There are a relatively small number of people in Melbourne who love the sort of music found in this collection: death, doom, black, grind and generally more heavy and extreme Aussie metal (Portal anyone?). It’s also quite probable that, if this were a stolen heavy metal music collection, the owner would have vented about it online and sought help.

So I’d be extraordinarily grateful if you could help me establish that it really isn’t stolen. Starting with this question: is this your stolen music collection? I hope it isn’t. Do you know anyone who has had their heavy metal collection stolen? Again, I hope not. But if you do, maybe ask them to have a look here.

Help me make sure it’s legit. And if it is stolen, nothing would make me happier to return it to its rightful owner.

Note: The size of the above photo has been deliberately reduced to make the titles on the CD spines harder to read. I’ve also added several “decoy” CDs — items from my personal collection which had no relationship to the original find. If this is a stolen music collection and the genuine owner can be identified, he or she will know exactly which items *don't* belong here. Sorry folks, but this is to ward off any scammers.