James Cameron’s “Titantic” had star power, amazing special
effects and a budget that rivaled the gross national product of some small
countries. “Made in Belfast,” Saxon’s blue-collar tribute to those who put their
blood, sweat and tears into building the doomed luxury liner, was recorded for
their rampaging new album Sacrifice with
considerably less money and a leading man in Biff Byford who looks more like a motorcycle
club president than Leonardo DiCaprio. And yet, it’s “Made in Belfast” that’s
more deserving of an Oscar.
In comparison, Cameron’s interminably long film has nothing
on the widescreen epic that serves as the awe-inspiring centerpiece of Sacrifice, Saxon’s third killer album
in a row out now on the UDR label. As good a place to start with Sacrifice
as any, “Made in Belfast” is an interesting anomaly for Saxon. Dramatic and
devastatingly heavy at times, with a crushing, knee-buckling chorus as damaging
as the iceberg that tore a gigantic hole into Titanic’s supposedly
indestructible hull, “Made in Belfast” also sweeps across the Irish countryside
on wheeling Celtic mandolin courtesy of Paul Quinn. And the aural landscape
Saxon paints is breathtaking.
An experiment that works astonishingly well, against all
odds, the contrast of punishing heavy-metal riffs, soaring twin-guitar helixes,
and lovely folk accents is a refreshing change for Saxon, but don’t expect them
to make a habit of it. Fascinated by history, just as Saxon was when they
penned their own examination of the Kennedy assassination in “Dallas 1 p.m.” some
thirty years ago, the New Wave of British Heavy Metal vanguards go old school and
burn up the asphalt on “Warriors of the Road,” a fireball of delirious metal
energy that’s a throwback to Saxon’s early ‘80s work. The bruising, hard-nosed
contemplation of modern-day frustration that is “Standing in a Queue” is just
as nostalgic, although it seems to pine just as much for the simple, but brutally
effective, hooks of Bon Scott-era AC/DC as it does for their NWOBHM heyday.
Still hungry for new adventures, however, Saxon displays how
enamored they are with the explosive, riotous sound of thrash on Sacrifice by raining down torrents of
serrated guitar noise – designed by Quinn and his partner in crime Doug
Scarratt – in the violent, feverish mosh pit of a title track. And they seethe
with rage on the menacing “Wheels of Terror,” but Saxon hasn’t given up on
melody, a crucial element of the classic Saxon sound found on “Guardians of the
Tomb,” the bruising workingman anthem “Walk the Steel” and “Stand Up and Fight,”
all of which feed on the raw fury and searing speed of Exodus or Testament.
The limited deluxe edition of Sacrifice is paired with a bonus disc of extras that find Saxon re-imagining
a handful of their most revered classic songs – among them, a majestically
orchestrated version of “Crusader,” lush acoustic takes on “Requiem” and “Frozen
Rainbow,” and a frenzied “Forever Free.” Still, it’s the hot, molten core of Sacrifice and its brazen “go for the
throat” attitude that ought to send old fans and new converts alike into paroxysms
of rock ‘n’ roll ecstasy. Saxon's not dead yet. In fact, they seem to found
metal’s fountain of youth, as Sacrifice
burns with a relentless intensity – no ballads were allowed here – that belies their
age.
–Peter Lindblad
Having a fast machine is more important to Neil Fallon than
just about anything. Well-meaning people keep telling the Clutch front man he
has to change his evil ways on the track “Crucial Velocity” from the
groove-metal champions’ newest flaming chunk of blistering, no bullshit rock ‘n’
roll Earth Rocker, that deceit leads
to jail time and cheating everyone is going to get him into hot water one day.
Fallon isn’t worried about it. He can always jump into his “Rocket
88, the fastest in the land” and drive away. They’ll never catch him, not with
the slightly fuzzed-out, turbo-charged “Crucial Velocity” on the radio, at
least. One of the best driving songs since Fu Manchu’s “Mongoose,” it practically
demands that you step on the gas, even if your radar detector advises you shouldn’t.
So does “Unto the Breach,” another satisfying, hell-on-wheels riff fest that
turns on the afterburners and squeals its smoking tires before racing down the
straightaway at unsafe speeds.
And that’s the direction on Clutch’s GPS for Earth Rocker, out on the Weathermaker Music label. It is always pointed
straight ahead, and there are very few detours, aside from the cosmically
soulful “Gone Cold” Clutch roasts slowly on a spit over some cowboy’s campfire
on a cold desert night. Trimming the blues fat from their most recent releases,
Clutch adopts a leaner, more aggressive stance on Earth Rocker, even if the Texas two-stepping boogie and outlaw
attitude of the revenge fantasy “Book, Saddle & Go” rolls up a fatty of Tres Hombres-era ZZ Top and inhales
deeply.
Tempos vary on Earth
Rocker, as the stoner-metal heaviness, funk grooves and wah-wah radiance of
“The Face” and “Mr. Freedom” – gurgling like a bong – chug along with brutal, calculating precision, organically growing ever more powerful and seductive, while “Cyborg
Bette” sounds like Canned Heat on amphetamines and the full-throated roar of
the title track takes full advantage of Clutch’s limitless horsepower. Primal
and loud, these witches’ brews of chemically-induced mayhem mix screamingly
efficient guitar solos from Tim Sult, forceful vocals, hammering riffs and
diverse rhythms to make potent magic.
Lyrically vicious, defiant and unapologetic about anything, Earth Rocker is the voice of a modern-day warrior battling the forces of conformity and complacency and doing so while firing up a musical vehicle that is built not only for speed, but also for effortless and subtle shifts in dynamics. Get in and go for a ride. There is plenty of room in this Rocket 88. (http://weathermakermusic.com/)
Nobody knows what The
Next Day will bring, especially for the unpredictable David Bowie. His
future uncertain, having turned 65 in January, Bowie has been adamant that his
days of touring are behind him. And having reached retirement age, it begs the
question: Is this Bowie’s last hurrah? From the title of his latest LP, it
appears even Bowie has no idea. There is, after all, an incredible amount of
ambiguity in those three little words.
Does it mean he plans on doing more recording and that he’s
going back to work … well, The Next Day?
Or, does it mean he’s moving on to another chapter in his life, one that
doesn’t involve music at all? It could be he’s confronting his own mortality
and wondering just how many “next days” he has left. Then again, maybe it’s
simply a more artful and humanistic expression of that old Yiddish proverb
that, when translated, says, “Man plans and God laughs.”
As far as the planning for The Next Day goes, Bowie and his co-conspirators had to chuckle at
how successful they were in keeping word of this new record under wraps. The
Conclave of Cardinals was conducted with less secrecy. When news arrived that a
fresh Bowie record was imminent, it was met with expressions of shock and
surprise. That it could possibly contain his most inspired work in ages was
even more stunning, considering the parade of lackluster and unnecessarily difficult
albums he’d released since Let’s Dance or Scary Monsters, the LP that seems to
have provided the template of experimental accessibility for The Next Day.
Coming 10 years after 2003’s Reality – the successor to 2002’s Heathen – The Next Day
finds Bowie as open and revealing about himself as he’s ever been, and that, in
and of itself, is noteworthy for a man whose multiple personalities and masquerades – from that of the Thin White Duke to
Ziggy Stardust – have played out on very public stages over the years. It should come as no surprise then that, amid
the treatises on loneliness, regret and wrenching heartache, questions of
identity should arise in the alien soundscape “Heat,” with its quiet, martial drums,
mournful strings and melancholic acoustic guitar strum marching gently under
wraiths of lightly corrosive feedback. Here, Bowie’s weary, confessional
expression of confusion and despair mesmerizes, just as it does in the elegant,
smoky torch song “Where Are We Now?” Gorgeously rendered with dark, lush piano
and watery pools of electric guitar, it’s a number that’s wide awake at 3 a.m.
contemplating the erosion of time and life’s little mysteries. Sleep is
overrated anyway.
Darker and even more stylish, with seductive, irresistibly melodic contours and a streaming pace pushed along by smooth, taut bass, “The
Stars (Are out Tonight)” shimmers like a glassy city harbor in the clear moonlight.
And Bowie’s increasingly urgent vocals and voyeuristic, unsettling poetry heighten the drama and paranoia of an
absolutely intoxicating song that could rank among his best, even if it does bear an uncanny resemblance to “China Girl.” Even Iggy Pop, however, would forgive the likeness. Like Scary Monsters, though, the classy, well-manicured The Next Day spikes its arty pop-rock punch
bowl with the slightest traces of intriguing discord, the off-kilter vocalizing
in “How Does the Grass Grow?” being one example and the slashing guitar playing
off the melodic buoyancy of the title track being another. In “If You Can See
Me” the track’s compelling stop-start funk movements and dizzying array of beats
– straight out of Radiohead’s playbook – dive right into a rushing sonic flood,
as Bowie’s delivery shifts from robotic malfunction and threatening aspect to an all-too-human pleading for
salvation and recognition.
Rather clunky and clumsily executed, “Dirty Boys” and the
dull, thudding “Love is Lost” are minor missteps, as is “Boss of Me,” with its
sleazy saxophones and alarmingly low energy levels. The interminable sameness of “Dancing Out in
Space” is hard to get though, as well. Nevertheless, even these flawed pieces have qualities that make them compelling. Essentially, The NextDay is a tour of some of the most interesting and exquisitely detailed aural architecture Bowie has designed in recent years, and
when the serrated edge, swirling beauty and propulsive drive of “(You Will) Set
the World on Fire” breaks through the door Bowie is redeemed. Bowie is fighting
against the dying of the light, and he’s winning, despite any doubts he may
have.
Saxon's current lineup includes Nibbs Carter, Nigel Glockler,
Biff Byford, Doug Scarratt and Paul Quinn (Photo by Kai Swillus)
Dodging flying beer bottles and sidestepping brawling
hooligans isn’t everybody’s idea of fun.
Biff Byford and the boys of Son of a Bitch, precursors to
the New Wave of British Heavy Metal legends Saxon, always found trouble in one
particular live venue in the northeast of England – in the industrial town of
Burnley – called the Bank Hall Miners Club, but that didn’t stop them from
playing there as often as they could in the early days.
As the lanky Saxon front man recalls, “The money was good.”
And it had to be, because there was a real possibility that one or all of them
could wind up in the hospital after the gig.
“It was a club for miners, as the miners had their own
club,” says Byford. “That was pretty hard actually. That was a pretty hard
place. There used to be fights there every time we played – not because of the
band, but because there were two gangs that used to stand across each side of
the room looking at each other, and then at some point, they’d all charge at
each other and that would be the end of the concert. So yeah, it was a bit
rough. It was like ‘The Blues Brothers,’ where they’re throwing pots and bits
of beer at the band and things.”
Even for young men craving rock ‘n’ roll excitement and even
danger, the violence of the Bank Hall Miners Club in the late 1970s was a bit much for Byford and
Son of a Bitch. They had to make a buck, though. And, regardless of the trials and
tribulations of barnstorming England in a cramped van and performing at clubs
and bars where many of the patrons might want to take a swing at them, it beat
the hell out of working in the mines.
“When I was 17 or 18, I was working in the coal mines,” says
Byford. “It was difficult. It was really hard work. When you’re that young,
you’ve got mates in there, and I wasn’t in there for very long. It was a
dangerous place. But, yeah, I know what it’s like to work hard for everything.”
Perhaps that’s why Son of a Bitch, and later Saxon,
originally had such a large following in working-class communities in the north
of England and in South Wales, landscapes once dominated by factories and “cut
off from the south,” the more pastoral area of Britain, as Byford says.
“I suppose people just wanted to go out on a Friday or
Saturday night and have a great time and just watch a great band,” says Byford.
“All these little villages or towns had clubs or bars, and we used to play
them. You could play one every night for a month. And that’s what we did.”
The song “Stand Up and Fight,” off Saxon’s newest LP Sacrifice (a video of the making of the album is shown above), out on the UDR label, speaks
to the struggles they encountered before the tsunami known as NWOBHM swept
through the U.K. If the raging thrash and thundering traditional metal of Sacrifice – as well as other recent
efforts like 2011’s Call to Arms,
2009’s Into the Labyrinth and 2007’s Inner Sanctum – is any indication, the indestructible Saxon
has rediscovered the passionate intensity and raw energy that made their early
‘80s albums such classics.
Making a ‘Sacrifice’
Saxon - Sacrifice 2013
Sacrifice is
Saxon’s 20th album, and for the occasion, Byford decided to take the
con. Or, in other words, he assumed the role of producer, and he wasn’t shy
about giving out orders.
“I just really wanted to make an album that I liked and not
be beholden to the people who are not doing it,” says Byford. “The fans are
quite happy with that, so that was good … there are no ballads, just good rock
music, just good metal music. That’s what I wanted to do.”
The plan was to revisit Saxon’s most revered albums – the
early ‘80s holy trinity of Wheels of
Steel, Strong Arm of the Law and Denim and Leather – for inspiration,
while incorporating the balls-out, crash-and-burn mayhem of the thrash-metal
titans of today who were weaned on the NWOBHM sound Saxon helped establish.
“I mean, we went back to the ‘80s a little bit for two or
three of the songs, just to figure out what made us great,” explains Byford. “I
think ‘Warriors of the Road’ and ‘Stand Up and Fight’ are sort of
thrash-metal-y like the ‘80s were, and yeah, I just wanted to play with
Marshalls and Gibsons really, and just play and not rely too much on too many
digital tricks and just play like it is really. Some of the stuff is quite
modern, like ‘Made in Belfast’ is a really heavy song, with the Celtic sort of
style. We were experimenting as well, but yeah, I wanted the songs to have that
kind of push like it was just recorded yesterday, but still have that one foot
in the past.”
Infused with Irish folk accents, “Made in Belfast” certainly
has historical significance.
“It was originally just a heavy riff and a melodic turn,”
says Byford, referring to how the song was constructed. “I wanted it to have a
Celtic feel to it, so we went and Paul Quinn wrote the more Celtic part of the
beginning and we put it in the song. We liked it that much and it’s in all the
bridges of the song. And in Belfast, not the song but the city, I went to see
the museum, the Titanic museum. And I just thought it would be nice to write a
song for the people that worked on the ships really, rather than those who were
[passengers] on the Titanic.”
“Walking the Steel” also expresses empathy for the plight of
the working man, although this time it’s the construction being done on One
World Trade Center – one of the new towers being built on the old site of the
former World Trade Center, which was destroyed by the 9/11 terrorists – that
stirred Byford’s imagination.
“I went to Ground Zero in 2011, and we saw the progress
being made on the towers, and we were talking to a couple of guys there,” says
Byford. “And they called it ‘walking the steel,’ when they worked up there in
the clouds.”
Available as a standard jewel case CD, a limited-edition
deluxe digibook, a vinyl picture disc, a digital download that comes with a
bonus song or in a direct-to-consumer fan package, Sacrifice was mastered by in-demand producer Andy Sneap, who has
worked on a number of recent high-profile metal releases.
“We’ve known him for quite some time, and we wanted to work
together a little bit last year, or the year before, but couldn’t get to it. He
had a little bit of time free ‘cause the Killswitch [Engage] album was delayed
a few weeks. So, I asked him if he wanted to mix the album, and he said he’d
love to mix the album. So, that’s how it happened really, just over e-mail. He
came down to the studio to talk a couple of times, while I was recording the
band, and we came up with a plan.”
Giving Sacrifice
that contemporary feel was important for Byford, as songs like the title track
have the heaviness and raw power he imagined it would, while retaining that
classic Saxon sound.
“I’m a bit mixed really. I love the melodic stuff, but I
also love the heavy stuff as well,” admits Byford. “I guess I’m a bit of a
hybrid really. I love the melodic stuff – ‘747’ from the early albums – but I
also like ‘Motorcycle Man’ and ‘Princess of the Night,’ so I’m a bit of a
sucker for it all really.”
And he’s in absolute awe of the guitar work of Quinn and
Doug Scarratt on the latest record, as well as the performances of the band as
a whole.
“The musicianship of this band is great,” says Byford. “So
it’s a lot easier to go to different places with this band than it was with any
other band. So, yeah, it’s great this time. It’s really inspirational.”
Road tested
Back in the 1970s, Byford only had to witness the tough
lives of his fellow miners to give himself the push he needed to make it as a
musician.
In 1976, Byford, guitarists Quinn and Graham Oliver, bassist
Steve “Dobby” Dawson and drummer David Ward – who would soon be replaced by
Pete Gill – formed what would become Saxon in Barnsley, South Yorkshire, only
they started out as Son of a Bitch. They toured England relentlessly, as is
recounted in the 2012 Saxon documentary film “Heavy Metal Thunder.” The venues
weren’t exactly posh settings.
“We played a lot of clubs and bars,” says Byford. “Yeah, we
thought it was great fun, although they were very rough. There were a lot of
fights and things.”
Part of the excitement involved having copious amounts of
sex with groupies in the band’s van – which also housed their gear – after a
gig. Their one-night stands occasionally got them into hot water.
“You had to have a good pair of running shoes to get out of
the way,” jokes Byford. “There was always somebody’s girlfriend that liked one
of the band members, and you had to get out pretty quickly.”
While the U.K. club circuit provided Saxon, who ditched the
name Son of a Bitch fairly early on, all the thrills and excitement they could
stand, they had bigger dreams. And they had no intention of being just a covers
band, which only served to rile audiences.
“In the early days, we used to do like three sets,” recalls
Byford. “We used to stop and have a break and then start again. And usually by
the end of the set, all of them were pretty rough actually. And we really
didn’t do cover songs back then. So a lot of people used to ask for ‘Smoke on
the Water’ and all (laughs). And we said, ‘We don’t play that.’ And then they’d
usually riot, you know what I mean? After a while, people would come to see us
because we were a good band then, so we actually got on a little bit easier as
time went on.”
Securing support spots on tours with bigger bands, including
Motorhead, gained them much-needed exposure and expanded their fan base.
“It was our first tour,” says Byford, referring to Saxon’s
opening gigs with Motorhead. “I mean, they were pretty big then in the U.K. at
the time. So, yeah, we jumped on their tour. It was great actually. They helped
us out a lot – telling fans to buy our records and things. They were really
cool about it. They were great.”
Gaining momentum, Saxon got signed to the French record
label Carrere, which put out their self-titled debut in 1979. Carrere, however,
would experience financial difficulties, and when the label went under, Saxon
was homeless. It wouldn’t take them long to find another label, and in 1980,
they released Wheels of Steel, which yielded the singles “747,” the title track
and “Suzie Hold On.”
So began a period of intense creativity and ceaseless touring,
with Saxon appearing at the very first Monsters of Rock concert on Aug. 16,
1980.
Saxon - Wheels of Steel 1980
“We’d just gotten Wheels
of Steel in the charts,” says Byford. “I think it had just gone gold in the
U.K. So we went onstage … and it just was crazy, with 80,000 people going nuts,
singing all the songs. Yeah, it was great. It was quite emotional for us. It
was the first time we played to more than 2,000 people.”
On the road, Saxon encountered larger audiences and they
were frothing at the mouth for something different. Much to their surprise,
Saxon found itself at the vanguard of a burgeoning movement. NWOBHM was
happening, and Saxon was taking notice “straight away really,” says Byford.
“It’s not like the U.S. It’s not like a massive country,” he
adds. “In the U.K., it happened pretty quickly for us – two or three big
magazines got a hold of it and gave us some fantastic reviews. You know, we
played quite a few shows in the early days of Maiden, like at Manchester
University and places like that. And yeah, it was a bit of a melting pot of
bands really. I remember we played with a band called Samson back then. Bruce
Dickinson was their singer, so I got to meet Bruce fairly early on as well.”
This conflagration of heavy metal and punk rock, combining
speed and all-out aggression, was sweeping across England, as Saxon’s
compatriots like Diamond Head, Budgie, Angel Witch, Girlschool, Motorhead,
Tygers of Pan Tang and, of course, Iron Maiden blew the doors off the entire
country.
“There was definitely a massive change in the size of
audiences that had interest in the band,” says Byford. “I really think the
magazines were a bit fed up with this punk thing. I just think they wanted
something new to write about. And we were in the right place at the right time
with some great songs.”
Humility aside, Saxon posted four albums in the U.K. Top 10 in the 1980s and had numerous Top 20 singles there and in Japan, at least in part, because of
their insane work ethic. Striking while the iron was as hot as it could ever
be, Saxon took whatever studio time they could get when they weren’t on the
road. While Wheels of Steel was still
going strong, Saxon released perhaps its finest recording, Strong Arm of the Law, which featured the title track and “Dallas 1
p.m.,” a song about John F. Kennedy.
“We were just very, very sort of inspired really,” says
Byford. “We were just writing the first things that came into our heads. You
know, they were great really. We had to work on the songs and get them sounding
great – you know, with the arrangements. But generally, we’d have an idea and
carry on with it and it worked out to be a fantastic idea – like ‘Dallas 1
p.m.,’ you know, I just sat down and wrote it. I said to the guys, ‘I’ve got
this idea about writing a song about the Kennedy assassination and about when
he was younger.’ And they were like, ‘Yeah.’ And we had this riff flying
around, and we put the two together and it worked fantastically. So, I think
that song probably took about two hours, from the original idea to the finished
song.”
Not every song came together as fast as that one for Saxon,
but with their touring schedule having expanded worldwide, having a hit in
Japan with “Motorcycle Man,” there was less and less time for recording. Saxon
didn’t mind the work.
“We’d actually not been out of the country before 1980, and
most of us had never been on a plane,” says Byford.
Though they were spending more time on the road and in the
air, Saxon didn’t do much songwriting away from the studio.
“Not many. Not many. I think we probably wrote ‘Princess of
the Night’ on the road,” says Byford. “I can’t really remember many that we
wrote. I got a lot of ideas for lyrics on the road, but I can’t remember
writing one song on the road really. The guitarist might try something at sound
check, and it would come out way too long, but generally, we just went into the
room on Day 1 and started writing the album.”
Saxon - Denim and Leather 2013
With an ever-shrinking window to record, Saxon banged out
another seminal record in 1981 with the fan favorite Denim and Leather, the title track of which has been a rallying cry
for many metal fans ever since then. “Princess of the Night” was on Denim and Leather, and it was one of the
band’s most successful singles, but in the aftermath, Saxon’s united front
started to crack, as Gill departed and was replaced by Nigel Glockler for an
upcoming tour.
Still formidable, Saxon kept their foot on the gas,
releasing one of metal’s greatest live albums in The Eagle Has Landed. They were headlining tours of their own and
supporting superstars like Ozzy Osbourne. And they brought down the house at
1982’s Monsters of Rock Festival. The tide, however, was turning ever so slowly
against Saxon, as the glam-metal outbreak spread and NWOBHM started to fade.
Despite it all, Saxon released Power & the Glory in 1983, and it surpassed their previous best
in sales. What nobody knew then was that Saxon was about to undergo
earthshaking changes.
‘Crusader’ for truth
1984 saw Saxon sign with EMI Records, and they kicked off
their relationship with a new album in Crusader,
a record that critics found a bit commercial but Byford never saw it that way.
And the title track is still beloved by fans.
“It was a song [written] from the point of view of a young
lad watching the soldiers go off to war,” says Byford. “And yeah, it’s just a
historic song, and other people have all sorts of different interpretations,
but it’s just a history song, like ‘Dallas 1 p.m.’ or ‘Made in Belfast.’”
There would be other new releases in the ‘80s, including
1985’s Innocence is No Excuse and
1986’s Rock the Nations, although
they lost Dawson in the process. Paul Johnson was hired as Dawson’s
replacement, but Saxon was growing weary of touring. In 1988, they released the
commercial disappointment Destiny,
and EMI dropped the band.
Not willing to give up the ghost, Saxon continued on into
the ‘90s, signing with Virgin Records. But after recording Dogs of War in 1994, Oliver was
dismissed for trying to sell recording of Saxon’s 1980 Donnington performance
without the permission of the rest of the band. To this day, Oliver and Dawson
haven’t been welcomed back to Saxon, although Byford has left the door open for
reconciliation.
“I mean, never say never – we’ll see how it goes really,”
says Byford.
These days, Saxon’s lineup includes Byford, Quinn, Glockler,
Scarratt and Nibbs Carter, who replaced Johnson way back in 1988. And this
version of the band has been on an incredible roll, with each succeeding album
since The Inner Sanctum receiving
ever-increasing critical acclaim. Sacrifice
might be the best of the lot, and it’s going to give the Saxon fans in
Metallica and Megadeth reason to up their game.
“I think those guys were really into the old attitude and
concept of our albums then,” says Byford. “They were very sort of … no
particular style, just great songs played full bore – you know, no holding
back. So I think that’s what those bands from the U.S. sort of liked about us,
that metal/punk sort of stuff. So, yeah, definitely – and I’m sure a lot of
them will like two or three songs of this album.”
CD Review: Orange Goblin – A Eulogy for the Fans – Orange Goblin Live 2012
Candlelight Records
All Access Review: A
Orange Goblin - A Eulogy for
the Fans - Orange Goblin Live 2012
If the Hell’s Angels ever need a house band, they could do
worse than Orange Goblin. These beer drinkers and hell raisers from Britain
emit a gnarly heavy-metal roar as loud and smoky as the dirty exhaust pipes of
an old chopper. And in all probability, like their brothers in denim and
leather, they haven’t showered in months.
Or at least they probably hadn’t by the time they played
Bloodstock and Hellfest in 2012, while out on the road supporting their late
2011 album, A Eulogy for the Damned.
Welcomed with open arms by the great unwashed, the record knifed its way into
the U.K. Top 200 upon its release and motored all the way up to No. 38 on the
Billboard Heat Seeker’s chart. Taking no prisoners, A Eulogy for the Damned also conquered CMJ’s Loud Rock album
listings by eventually grabbing the top spot. Still, as devastating and
sonically brutal as A Eulogy for the
Damned was, Orange Goblin’s studio LPs have never quite replicated the
manly musk and hairy, brawling energy of the Orange Goblin live experience.
New from Candlelight Records, A Eulogy for the Fans
– Orange Goblin Live 2012, comprised of thrilling performance recordings
from both of those festivals of mayhem with videos and documentaries packed
into a lively DVD, fills that void and then some. From the first squeal of
feedback, Orange Goblin and their grizzly bear of a lead vocalist in Ben Ward set
out to pillage and plunder, with churning, furious riffage born of ‘70s proto-metal
and a healthy respect for doom rock, thrash and heavy, psychedelic blues that
comes alive in the raging maelstroms of “Red Tide Rising,” “Quincy the Pigboy”
and “Scorpionica.”
Relentless and punishing, Orange Goblin – established in
1995 – skillfully and dementedly handle twisting, crushing shifts in binge-and-purge dynamics with
teeth-gnashing glee, sending the recent single “The Filthy & the Few”
speeding into oblivion, bulldozing their way through “Acid Trial,” and then
mauling “The Ballad of Solomon Eagle” and “Some You Win, Some You Lose” in
beastly fashion. Whether he’s beating a meaty, menacing riff to death or flying straight into the sun on unpredictably wild solos, guitarist Joe Hoare
maneuvers his way through the carnage like some crazed motocross rider. Hoare
tears the guts out of the zombie-movie tribute “They Come Back” and the sprawling,
Black Sabbath-like horror of “The Fog,” as Ward, Orange Goblin’s Rasputin of a singer, treats chilling lyrics in a gruff and malevolent manner that puts the
fear of God into anybody who hears it. And that rhythm section, heaving to and
fro while seeming so certain of its direction and drive, doesn’t shy away from a good bashing either.
There’s a little bit of cowboy in Orange Goblin, as the
psychotic, mesmerizing grind of the irrepressible “Round up the Horses” so
aptly illustrates, and this live effort comes off like a never-ending bull ride
that tosses its audience around like rag dolls. Summoning the ugly power and raw,
massive muscle of originators like Blue Cheer, Mountain and Vanilla Fudge,
Orange Goblin claws through the tattered Southern rock glory of “Time Travelling Blues” and the rest of this set list violently, sending the frenzied crowd
into paroxysms of metal madness. Those who were there are probably still
talking about as one of the best nights of their lives.
CD Review: Justin Hayward –Spirits of the Western Sky
Eagle Rock Entertainment
All Access Review: B
Justin Hayward - Spirits of the Western Sky 2013
Justin Hayward hasn’t completely gone country. Only part of Spirits of the Western Sky, Hayward’s
first solo album since 1996’s The View
from the Hill, was recorded in Nashville, and it doesn’t take an Earl
Scruggs or an Emmylou Harris to figure out which songs he did in Music City.
Accented with plucked banjo, some light fiddle and mandolin,
the gorgeously rendered, heartfelt acoustic sketches “It’s Cold Outside of Your
Heart,” “What You Resist Persists” and “Broken Dream” roll around in down-home
bluegrass and glow incandescently, like fireflies trapped in a Mason jar. And
the breezy pop touch of “Captivated by You,” seemingly spun from pure ‘70s
soft-rock gold, could easily have taken inspiration from some of country’s best
songwriters – that is if the choruses weren’t so lushly orchestrated.
Concerned as always with matters of the heart and
spirituality, the Moody Blues’ lead vocalist and guitarist also spent time
recording in Genoa, Italy, and there’s a sophisticated pop sensibility at work
here that takes advantage of Academy Award-winning composer Anne Dudley’s much-ballyhooed
skills. Always willing to flesh out skeletal arrangements with orchestral
flourishes, as the Moody Blues have often done, Hayward strums his acoustic
guitar so lightly that it’s almost whispering as he puts Dudley’s talents to
work on such dreamy, string-laden fare as “One Day, Someday,” “The Eastern Sun”
and “The Western Sky.” None of them are quite as intoxicating as the melodic
cocktails served by Burt Bacharach or as mysterious and bruised as the soul of
Nick Drake, but Hayward is getting close.
What sinks Spirits of
the Western Sky is how drenched in heavy-handed sentimentality – both musically
and lyrically – the record is, as the always-earnest Hayward just can’t help
but go overboard on “In Your Blue Eyes” and whitewash “On the Road to Love” in
utter pop blandness. A romantic at heart, Hayward is always going to go for the
grand heartfelt gesture, and sometimes it’s truly gorgeous and sometimes it’s
the wan, sickly “Lazy Afternoon” that comes through the door. And then there’s
the matter of the two remixed electronic dance versions of the Moody Blues
favorite “Out There Somewhere” that close Spirits
of the Western Sky. Surprisingly contemporary sounding – unlike that dated, cringe-worthy album cover – and hypnotic, they
still feel as completely out of place as … well, Justin Hayward at a rave.
Cutting the cord with Accept proved to be more difficult
than Udo Dirkschneider imagined. In 1987, this short, stocky, powder keg of a singer
announced his separation from a metal band that’s always been “balls to the wall.” Intending to go
solo, he assembled a band of mercenary gunslingers to make his new project, U.D.O., the scourge of true German heavy metal.
Parting ways on the friendliest of terms, the two parties
divorced. Only Udo wasn’t quite prepared to go it alone right away with his new
playmates, seeing as how his former Accept songwriting partners created and
crafted the content for U.D.O.’s debut LP, Animal
House, which sounded a lot like classic Accept – intense, aggressive, engorged
with testosterone and defiant, with just a hint of melody to sweeten the deal and hooks galore.
Interestingly, by the time U.D.O. set about recording their
sophomore outing, Mean Machine,
Dirkschneider had sent packing three-fourths of the original U.D.O., leaving
only guitarist Mathias Dieth to forge ahead with Dirkschneider and newcomers
Andy Susemihl on guitar, Stefan Schwarzmann on drums and Thomas Smuszynski on
bass. This time, the remaining members of Accept stayed out of it. With fresh
troops having arrived, U.D.O. was ready was battle.
U.D.O. - Man and Machine Anniversary Edition 2013
Their first salvo was 1988’s Mean Machine, a solid, workmanlike effort propelled by brawny
riffs, searing guitar solos, hard-nosed, pulverizing rhythms, shouted backing
vocals and Udo’s menacing wildcat howl. Part of a massive 2013 reissue campaign
initiated by AFM Records to unearth U.D.O.’s entire back catalog – meant to coincide
with U.D.O.’s 25th anniversary – Mean
Machine was included in the second wave of re-releases that hit U.S. shores
on Feb. 12, along with Animal House, Faceless World and Timebomb. And it may be the best of the bunch.
Forging straight ahead, with the emphasis on power, violence
and excitement, Mean Machine practically
spits nails, offering a series of vicious, bloody-knuckled traditional metal
attacks like the electrifying “Don’t Look Back,” “Dirty Boys” and “Break the
Rules” – these brawls of blistering hard rock, where lead pipes and chains are perfectly
acceptable weapons and Udo is orchestrating the fighting with his feral utterances and ferocious delivery. Simmering with tension, “Streets of Fire” explodes into
thunderous choruses, while “We’re History” goes on a curb-stomping spree of metal
riffage that effectively, and in no uncertain terms, ends a relationship built
on lies. A dark, melancholic ballad, “Sweet Little Child” floats in on tendrils
of piano and makes for wonderful, almost Gothic drama, but it’s only a short layover of
tenderness and mercy before the sonic crunch of “Catch My Fall” bites down
hard.
Like the rest of them, Mean
Machine getsa graphic makeover
and comes with a bit of bonus material. In this case, it is packaged with a
live version of “Break the Rules” that is meaner and nastier than the original,
plus the video for the song of the same title. Meanwhile, Man and Machine, initially put out in 2002, is not nearly as
raw as Mean Machine, but it is a more
polished, if less consistent, piece of work. Augmented by a punishing concert
version of the title track and a remix of Udo’s original duet with Doro Pesch
on the dream-like “Dancing with an Angel,” this cringe-inducing astral projection of softly melodic
incandescence, Man and Machine begins
with the pummeling, dystopian industrial nightmare of a title track and and its
high points are more glorious than those of Mean
Machine.
Sweeping epics “Like a Lion,” “Animal Instinct” and the
exotic “Unknown Traveller” build on the instrumental grandeur of Led Zeppelin and the
roaring emotions of power metal, while a churning, meaty “The Dawn of the Gods”
growls and snarls with primal, animalistic fervor. Along with Solid, No Limits, and Holy, the
re-released Man and Machine arrived
in late January in the first batch of reissues, representing U.D.O.’s later
period. Why some of these anniversary editions feature more bonus tracks than
others is puzzling, and you wish each album would include liner notes that might shed additional
light on the inner workings and history of U.D.O., although at least Man and Machine has a plethora of
behind-the-scenes, studio photos of bassist Fitty Weinhold, drummer Lorenzo Milani,
and guitarists Igor Gianola and Stefan Kaufmann, both of whom recently announced their departures from U.D.O.
Some of these records have been out of print for a while now,
and while U.D.O. hasn’t really distinguished itself from Accept over the years
in any meaningful way, it’s nice to have them back. Still, had more thought
been put into the packaging of each reissue, the word “essential” might apply
here. (www.afm-records.de) –Peter Lindblad
