A great deal of turmoil has descended upon the Kingdom of Fife since last we heard from Gloryhammer.
In the summer of 2021, the band unceremoniously fired vocalist Thomas Winkler with a brief, matter-of-fact social-media post just as live music was beginning to make a comeback. Shortly after that firing, a leaked chat transcript revealed some juvenile and offensive chatter between remaining members of the band that included racist and misogynistic jokes. An evil cloud descended upon the land, and it seemed that the former heroes might not be able to save it this time.
OK, I make a little light of what was a serious situation on both fronts. Winkler was an integral part of the band’s sound and was the absolute perfect frontman to take on the role of their main character Angus McFife. Obviously, I don’t need to explain the seriousness of the other charges.
A proclamation made in a black-and-white video full of fire and smoke, by a singer wearing a flaming crown and decked out in corpse paint – possibly its first use in rock. In 2018, after the music world has seen the likes of Alice Cooper, W.A.S.P., Marilyn Manson and even more bizarre acts, it may not seem that wild or shocking. But imagine being a kid in 1968 and stumbling across the Crazy World of Arthur Brown’s “Fire” for the first time. It had to be just about the coolest thing you’d ever seen – and for parents, probably one of the scariest.
This song pops up on my shuffle on rare occasion, and it always reminds me of just how big an impact this relatively obscure artist had on my favorite music. Though “Fire” was a No. 1 hit in the U.K. and reached No. 2 on Billboard in the U.S., Arthur Brown is far from a household name. His work, however, spawned whole genres of rock and metal.
I absolutely hate it when a band puts out a completely badass album and then almost immediately breaks up. One of the most frustrating examples I can remember is recent years is Anti-Mortem. The Oklahoma band’s first album New Southern arrived in 2014, and it blew me away. It was a collection of fantastic hard rock with occasional hints of Southern rock and thrash. If Judas Priest hadn’t put out an incredible album that year as well, New Southern would have been, far and away, my pick for album of the year, and it's been a staple in my playlist for the last two years.
You may have noticed I don’t cover much jazz here (and by much, I mean any). While I have an appreciation for it and enjoy it from time to time, I just don’t feel that I have the knowledge or qualifications to talk about it intelligently.
I have kind of an interesting relationship with Jaco Pastorius’ work. When I first picked up a bass many years ago, I read a magazine article about him, and decided that I needed to check this guy out. Well, one listen told me that I’d never be able to play a bass even remotely like that, and while I was stunned by his abilities, I really didn’t feel most of the music he recorded. The relatively mellow sounds of Weather Report just didn’t appeal to a metal kid, and still don’t appeal to a metal dad in his 40s.
I’m working on a couple of ideas to try to breathe a little life back into this site. I started with the Sunday Sabbath feature, and now a series I call Saturday Night Special.
If you’ve been coming to the site for a little while, you’re probably familiar with the Saturday Shuffle that I used to do. That kind of ran its course, and though it got good traffic, was a pain to put together with my work and family schedules. So instead, I’m going to try a one-song approach, where I focus on a tune that I heard at some point in the week that maybe I haven’t heard for a while or that just struck me in some different way. We’ll kick things off with my favorite song from an ‘80s band that I consider underrated.
So, I’ve given this new track from Metallica almost 24 hours and quite a few listens to settle before I sat down to write this – because my initial reaction to the song was not good at all, and I didn’t want to go with a knee-jerk. I wanted to try to give it a fair hearing and a chance to grow on me. A day later, my reaction is better, but still a little “meh.”
To be honest, there have been times in Metallica’s career that I would have rejoiced to hear a song like “Hardwired.” Had it arrived in 1998, I would have been jumping up and down and celebrating. Since the 1990s meltdown of the band, though, fans have seen a new evolution. Beginning with the rough and raw St. Anger in 2003 (more thoughts on that to come in my Metal Meltdowns series) to a really good outing in 2008’s Death Magnetic, despite its aural challenges.
What I hoped for was a continued evolution on that path. Eight years later, I hoped that they had honed and perfected that sound. I’d hoped that if St. Anger was the Kill ‘Em All of this version of the band, then the new album would be the Master of Puppets. Yes, I realize that expectation was way, way too high, but given the quality of music that other classic thrash bands are putting out there this year, I didn’t think it was beyond the realm of possibility.
I’ve been a huge fan of Flotsam and Jetsam’s last couple of records. They’re probably one of the more underrated thrash bands of that genre’s classic era, and I thought they found their way again on 2010’s The Cold and 2012’s Ugly Noise.
“Iron Maiden,” the first single off their upcoming eponymous album presents a serious shifting of gears from those two records.
I remember being extremely excited about Zakk Wylde’s solo album Book of Shadows back in 1996, and then supremely disappointed. Loving his work with Ozzy Osbourne and Southern rockers Pride and Glory, I expected a scorching set of metal tunes. What I got was a collection of mostly soft, acoustic numbers, and I hated it.
Fast forward 20 years, and I have developed a much greater appreciation of Wylde’s acoustic work. In fact, I think it’s some of his best work, and some of the tunes from Book of Shadows are among my favorites.
I’m generally opposed to “Part 2” albums because they create an expectation that they can almost never live up to. But I have to admit that my interest was piqued when Zakk Wylde announced that he’d be releasing Book of Shadows II in April.
Aimee Osbourne may prove herself to be the brightest of metal madman Ozzy Osbourne’s offspring in more ways than one.
First, Aimee opted out of all of the craziness that was The Osbournes reality show. While her siblings hammed up the spotlight, she quietly did her own thing. She continues that trend with her latest single, not using the Osbourne name, but rather going by ARO.
Her independent personality carries over into this first single from ARO’s upcoming EP. “Raining Gold” is light years away from the squawky, attention-hungry hot messes that her sister Kelly has unleashed on the music world. It’s subtle, smart — and, damn it, this girl can sing. At least on this first single, it seems that Aimee Osbourne knows where her vocal wheelhouse is (dusky, yet a bit sultry) and she sticks with the formula, using it very effectively.
Unlike many passed artists, “Dimebag” Darrell Abbott doesn’t seem to have left behind much unreleased material. Either that or his family is being very careful with what they let out. But every now and then, something we haven’t heard before trickles out.
A while back, Guitar World premiered the track “Whiskey Road,” recorded on Pantera’s final tour in 2001. The song features the late Dimebag on all instruments and vocals, and though it’s a rough demo, it shows a lot of promise. If you’re expecting a crushing Pantera tune, think again. “Whiskey Road” is a Southern rock drinking song from start to finish. Though there’s a little bit of “Cemetery Gates” in the clean guitar sound and some of the leads, there’s a lot more twang than crunch.
I was probably 12 or so when my family got cable TV for the first time. I believe that plan had 12 channels — which seemed like a wealth of content to someone who had previously only received three, or a fuzzy fourth when the weather was right and you adjusted the antenna to just the right spot.
One of those channels, at least for a little while, was HBO. In those days, HBO wasn’t stacked with as many promos for their stuff as regular TV was with commercials, and the network would sometimes play music videos between programs. It was there that I first discovered “Weird Al” Yankovic.
For the past nearly 25 years, there’s been no more polarizing band in metal, or perhaps all of rock, than Metallica.
Since the release of that monstrous self-titled album in 1991, fans have been thrown into three different camps.
There are the loyalists that have followed and defended them faithfully through all of their ups and downs. The folks, like me, who have mixed feelings about their work since that time, but try to keep an open mind despite some disappointments. Then, there are the people who will never be satisfied with anything the band does again and take every opportunity to criticize.
It’s so rare for me these days to hear a song that blows me away out of the gate and makes me run out and pick up an album.
I guess it’s part of aging, having more experience with music and being more jaded. When you’re younger, everything sounds awesome. When you get older, you get much harder to impress. To be honest, I miss those days.
Who could have guessed that a Christopher Cross song would have so much traction in the metal world?
This is at least the third heavy cover of the song that I’m aware of. British metal icons Saxon recorded it in 1988, and the extra-vowel-loving thrash act Speeed, featuring members of Annihilator and Seven Witches, remade it in 1999.
Of the three, this cut from Jorn’s recent Frontiers Records release, Bring Heavy Rock to the Land, is also my favorite.
Norwegian wailer Jorn Lande is, in my opinion, one of the top hard rock vocalists out there today. He mixes the best elements of big voices like Ronnie James Dio and David Coverdale for a bold, powerful and classic delivery. That voice brings some much-needed power to the song.
The decision to play 1984’s Ride the Lightning in its entirety a couple of weeks ago for their inaugural Orion Music and More Festival brought a historic moment for Metallica. It intrigued me so much that I tuned in to Fuse TV’s live stream of the concert online to see it.
The sixth track on the album, “Escape,” is one of only a handful of songs from their catalog that the band has never played live.
Oh, there’s been a snippet of it in a medley here and there over the years, but they’ve never played the whole song, and it’s said that no one in the band really likes it. I can’t understand that since it’s one of my favorite tunes on the album.
This is the song that should have been Warrant’s defining moment. Their 1990 album was recorded and ready to go. It was going to be called Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and they were going to stake an attempt at a slightly more serious musical direction on the strength of this piece.
It might have even worked. But their label, Columbia, told them they needed another song, something catchy that might be a hit at radio. In about 15 minutes, singer Jani Lane knocked out the lyrics to a shallow three-chorder called “Cherry Pie,” essentially a three-minute string of sexual references, and the rest is history. When the album came out, the title was Cherry Pie, the song was the lead single and a huge hit, and Warrant’s fate was pretty much sealed.
When Volbeat’s “Sad Man’s Tongue” comes blaring out of my speakers on a shuffle, I’m always happy, and I always hit repeat — usually a dozen times or so, at least. And I always think about how I nearly missed such a great song.
While most folks probably went for something like the Rebirth Brass Band's version of "When the Saints Go Marching In" after the New Orleans Saints advanced to the Super Bowl for the first time on Sunday, you know I had to reach for something a little heavier. So after Garrett Hartley's kick sailed through the uprights, I cranked up this tune from Down's 2007 album "III: Over the Under."
No, the song is not about the football team, which becomes readily apparent with a listen to the lyrics. Written around the time of the team's 2006 run to the NFC Championship, an effort that energized the city and played a big role in raising spirits in the area following Hurricane Katrina, it uses the Saints as a clever metaphor for the people of New Orleans. That, in itself, is interesting since singer Phil Anselmo isn't exactly known for the use of metaphor in his lyrics ... or any other literary tool for that matter.
Don't get me wrong. This isn't high art. It certainly has its lyrical challenges, but the sentiment of the song comes through in a very personal way. To me, "On March the Saints" perfectly captures the atmosphere and struggle in New Orleans in the years since Katrina. The lyrics and music capture the uncertainty and chaos in the wake of the storm. The song expresses the hopelessness and devastation of the storms. At the same time though, there's a definite joy there, a feeling of triumph in overcoming the challenges.
Of course, it doesn't hurt that the song features a great, sludgy slab of a guitar riff, and an undeniable heavy groove.
I'll understand if most fans turn to "When the Saints Go Marching In," or maybe U2's "The Saints are Coming" performance from the reopening of the Superdome in 2006 to celebrate. I'll probably listen to both a few times in the coming weeks. But for me, the primary soundtrack leading up to the Super Bowl is going to include a heavy dose of "On March the Saints." Here's hoping a little of the power and the attitude of the song rubs off on our Saints, and I can crank it again in honor of a Super Bowl win in a couple of weeks.
(Editor's Note: Stuck in my Head is an occasional feature about whatever song happens to be running around incessantly in my head at the moment.)
So it's a full month before Lynyrd Skynyrd's latest record, "God & Guns," hits stores, but I've been listening to this track almost non-stop for the past couple of weeks and I've got to talk about it. Hopefully they won't mind a little early praise.
I wasn't really expecting any surprises from this record, but when I hit the seventh track, co-written by guitarist John 5, I got one. For those unfamiliar, John 5 (real name, John Lowery) isn't exactly the first guy you'd think of when thinking about folks to write songs with Lynyrd Skynyrd. His major playing credits come as guitarist for Marilyn Manson and Rob Zombie. But when you find out that he was inspired to pick up his Telecaster by watching Buck Owens and Roy Clark, it makes a little more sense. "Floyd" is one of several songs John 5 co-wrote on the record, and, for me, it's the standout track.
Not to worry for Skynyrd fans, though, you won't find any chugging metal riffs on this song. "Floyd" (and all the songs John 5 worked on) are still very much Skynyrd tunes. Lyrically, the song follows a country/southern rock legacy of songs like Jerry Reed's "Amos Moses" and Charlie Daniels' "Legend of Woolley Swamp," which tell tales of the strange character that lives in the swamp and doesn't care for visitors that much.
After some sounds of the swamp, the song settles into an acoustic country-blues mode as it introduces and describes the main character Floyd. But the real kick in the pants comes when the chorus hits. Electric guitars wail out like swamp demons, while the "aiyaiyaiy" vocal harmonies lend both a sense of creepiness and craziness to the story. The huge hook on the chorus can't be denied or ignored, and, for me, it's one of the most powerful moments we've heard from Skynyrd since the 1970s.
On hearing the song, my wife described it as "a Rob Zombie song if Charlie Daniels sang it." I can't think of a better description, so I'll steal hers. It's certainly a little different for the band, but at the same time, not too far off the mark, either.
Fans that want the usual from Lynyrd Skynyrd should certainly still be pleased with "God & Guns," which I'll review here in its entirety nearer the release date. But those expecting the "same old, same old," may also find some pleasant surprises, "Floyd" being chief among them.
(Editor's Note: Stuck in my Head is an occasional feature about whatever song happens to be running around incessantly in my head at the moment.)
Nicknamed "the Evil Elvis" due to both his dark, Presley-like vocal drawl and trademark lambchop sideburns, it seemed just a matter of time before Glenn Danzig covered an Elvis tune. And what more perfect song for him to cover than "Trouble" with it's "Because I'm evil/My middle name is misery" chorus refrain?
Originally recorded for the "King Creole" soundtrack in 1958, Presley sang the song with the backing of a lively Dixieland band. Danzig's version, unsurprisingly, is a far cry from the original, yet, at the same time, not so different.
It's a song that Danzig had wanted to record for years. There are a variety of earlier demo and live recordings of the tune to be found, ranging from a demo with the band Samhain that substituted some spooky electronics for the Dixieland bits to a version from the recording sessions for the first Danzig record that's more of a stripped-down, rough version of the one that was finally released. The timing was right in 1993, when he released it as part of a live EP, "Thrall -- DemonSweatLive." After progressing through the punk of The Misfits and the experimental sounds of Samhain, Danzig was settling into a blues-based, earthier sound for his first few albums with his eponymous band, and "Trouble" was a perfect fit into that sound.
Danzig's cover is built around the same melody line as the Elvis version, only with the volume and attitude cranked up. The fairly simple and familiar brass riff becomes a crushing metal guitar riff, but manages to do it without losing the soul or groove of the original. Naturally, the song is darker and more ominous, with the accentuation on the chorus. The result is something more sinister than Elvis' tune about a bad boy, yet when that big guitar riff and the pounding drum line kick in at the beginning, it oozes cool just like the horns of the Elvis original.
If there's a weakness in the Danzig version, it's probably the fact that he fiddled around with the lyrics a little, bringing a campy B-horror feel to that aspect of the song. If I'm being honest, I'd rather hear the original Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller lyric, "I was born standing up/And talking back" than Danzig's substition. The other major lyrical change, from "green-eyed mountain jack" to "demon werewolf jack" didn't bother me as much, but was really unneccessary. There was plenty of darkness in Danzig's delivery of the chorus without bringing in the horror movie imagery. (It also doesn't hurt that Danzig cuts an imposing figure that backs up the "don't you mess around with me" line.)
Finally, there's the upbeat, swinging ending that brings the song home that becomes a thrashed-out piece in Danzig's hands, but still sticks to the original melody.
I understand if you're a disciple of Elvis, you'll probably consider this song an abomination, so skip it. If, on the other hand, you're a fan of blues-based metal who can also appreciate Presley's work, you should check it out if you're not already familiar.
