Posts tagged ‘iron maiden’

June 11, 2013

Black Sabbath

blacksabbath2013

by Phil Freeman

It’s 2013, and there’s a new Black Sabbath studio album. That’s surprising. It’s not the massive shock it was sold as being, when it was announced last year, of course. They’d been reuniting off and on for tours since 1997; I saw them on Ozzfest in 2004. But it’s still a major event in heavy metal culture, most of which descends directly from the first six Black Sabbath albums.

Black Sabbath‘s sound had four crucial elements—Ozzy Osbourne‘s vocals, Tony Iommi‘s guitar, Geezer Butler‘s bass and Bill Ward‘s drums. The latter two were arguably the most important, because Black Sabbath‘s approach to rhythm, particularly on their three best albums (1970′s Paranoid, 1971′s Master of Reality, and 1972′s Vol. 4), was unique in rock. It was a sort of caveman jazz, swinging and bluesy without the intricacy of fusion or the looseness-unto-aimlessness of the Grateful Dead. Instead of simply hammering home the riffs, the way the rhythm sections of bands like Cactus or Grand Funk Railroad did, Butler and Ward wandered around, exploring and extemporizing, but always making it back in time to bludgeon the listener at the perfect moment. So when it was announced that this reunion album would not feature Ward on drums—he bowed out, citing financial chicanery—there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth from fans, who believed the project to be damaged beyond repair, especially once his replacement was named: Brad Wilk of Rage Against the Machine and Audioslave, a capable hard rock drummer but one rooted in hip-hop, funk and metal, not the blues.

Of course, the deck was stacked against Wilk—and Sabbath—from the beginning. A great deal of the magic of the band’s classic records (basically, the first six, with the focus being on the 1970-72 trilogy cited above) was the organic, dudes-in-a-room-laying-tracks-to-tape feel they had. No record is made that way anymore, at least not when there’s major label money involved. Nobody plays whole songs through in the studio. This has been the simple, uncontestable truth for decades, even in the case of so-called “alternative” or “underground” rock. Most rock critics don’t say anything about it, because most rock critics have no idea how albums are actually made.

Listen closely to Nirvana‘s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and you can hear clearly that Dave Grohl‘s drum performance is looped—he recorded one verse and the chorus, and producer Butch Vig cut ‘n’ pasted his way to the end of the track. Contrast this to the making of the Stooges‘ 1970 album Fun House, during which the band ran through take after take of “TV Eye,” “Loose,” et al. until they had one that was golden. The complete Fun House session tapes were infamously released as a seven-CD boxed set a decade or so ago; it would be impossible to do anything similar for any modern album. Similarly, there was simply never going to be an opportunity for Geezer Butler to lock into an organic, fluctuating, live groove with Brad Wilk—this is the 21st Century, and the drummer’s playing is snapped to a ProTools grid throughout the album, which is called 13. (My assumption is that this title means to define the “real” Black Sabbath catalog as including the first eight albums with Ozzy, the three with Ronnie James DioHeaven and Hell, Mob Rules and Dehumanizer—and Born Again with Ian Gillan. And that’s it. All those ’80s and ’90s albums where Tony Iommi was virtually the last remaining member—Geezer Butler returned for 1994′s Cross Purposes, then departed again—have been excised from the canon.)

May 21, 2013

A Taxonomy Of Extreme Metal Vocals

corpsegrinder

Since its inception in the 1970s, metal has been a proving ground for vocalists. First there were the operatic screams of genre pioneers like Ronnie James Dio (of Rainbow, Black Sabbath and a lengthy solo career), Judas Priest’s Rob Halford and Iron Maiden’s Bruce Dickinson, but in the late 1980s, as thrash gave way to the new, more aggressive form known as death metal, the preferred voice shifted from a high-pitched howl to a low roar, known alternately as “death growls” or “Cookie Monster vocals.” In the earliest days of death metal, the frontmen (and while there have been some excellent female extreme metal vocalists, including Arch Enemy‘s Angela Gossow, Cerebral Bore‘s Simone Pluijmers, Sinister‘s Rachel van Mastrigt-Heyzer, and Landmine Marathon‘s Grace Perry, this has been an overwhelmingly male style, even by metal standards) bellowed from deep in their chests and guts, attempting to sound as much like a raging demon as possible, the better to put across the mandatory lyrics about Satan and murder. For the most part, genre pioneers like Cannibal Corpse’s Chris Barnes, Deicide’s Glen Benton, Immolation’s Ross Dolan, Morbid Angel’s David Vincent and Suffocation’s Frank Mullen were guttural and menacing, but intelligible. But there was an exception: Obituary’s John Tardy.

Tardy’s vocals were qualitatively different from his peers’ in two major ways. On the one hand, his pitch and overall feel were much less controlled than anyone else’s at the time—he didn’t sound like a snarling demon so much as that unhinged, unclean guy you didn’t want sitting next to you on public transportation. But Tardy’s greatest innovation was demonstrated on Obituary’s 1989 debut album, Slowly We Rot. Rather than limit himself creatively by writing lyrics, the vocalist chose to simply improvise his way through several tracks, making vocal sounds not unlike those Boredoms frontman Eye Yamatsuka was exploring more or less concurrently on the other side of the planet. Tardy was an acknowledged influence on then-Faith No More singer (and later John Zorn collaborator) Mike Patton, who told me in a 2005 interview for The Wire, “I was probably 18 or 19 when that record came out. I thought the guy was a fucking genius, because there were no words. There were certain little phrases, like ‘wuuugh’ and ‘aaagh,’ and that really hit me at the time. I realized he was using the voice as an instrument within a song form. Especially with that form of music, that is genius, because no one knows. There’s nothing to say anyway. It’s a sound. Better that than hearing him talk about disemboweling some virgin.”

Over the years, and particularly in the new millennium, extreme metal vocals have become conventional. No longer a disturbing aberration, they are now a genre requirement, no different than blasting double bass drums or downtuned guitars. However, multiple styles have emerged within what might seem to outsiders like a limited approach. Traditional, old-school death metal vocals are still practiced by traditionalists like Cannibal Corpse’s current frontman, George “Corpsegrinder” Fisher, and dozens of others, including the veterans cited above, whose bands still tour and record. But other subgenres have their own favored vocal styles. Black metal, for example, requires a high-pitched, unearthly shriek, or a sort of croaking sound from the back of the throat—Cradle of Filth’s Dani Filth is a perfect example of the former method, while Immortal’s Abbath opts for the latter, sometimes sounding like a hell-spawned toad and others like Popeye the Sailor. Grindcore, which marries death metal and hardcore punk, demands an earnest, almost breathless barking type of vocal (with some, like GridLink/ex-Discordance Axis frontman Jon Chang, opting instead for full-on screaming) that’s mostly unintelligible because of the speed at which the lyrics are delivered; if the bands would slow down, the words might become clear.

Some of the most extreme vocalists of all seem to bypass the vocal cords entirely, using the throat primarily as a kind of resonating chamber. Attila Csihar, of Sunn O))) and many other projects, rumbles in a range previously attained only by Milan Fras of Laibach, while Will Rahmer of late ’90s/early ’00s New York death metal thugs Mortician had a voice so low—he made Barry White sound like Barry Manilow—that his death growls were as close as metal vocals have ever gotten to being totally inaudible; they blended with the riffs and the simplistic drum programming (Mortician had no drummer) so seamlessly it was easy to mistake them for bass amp feedback.

The latest innovation in extreme vocal technique is what’s aptly known as the “pig squeal” style, which sounds utterly inhuman and has actually become divisive even within the death metal community. The guttural-but-still-recognizably-words approach of “classic” death metal is abandoned in favor of gurgles and bubblings that seem impossible to produce using a human throat—the impression is of a badly malfunctioning toilet on the brink of explosion. And of course, there are the ear-piercing squeals that serve as punctuation at the end of lines. The overall effect is both alienating and personality-flattening, as the effect saps all the vocalist’s individuality. A perfect example of this phenomenon is Inherit Disease’s 2010 album Visceral Transcendence, on which four different guest vocalists appear—none of whom can be identified, or even told apart from the primary gurgler.

Like most formerly underground artistic strategies, extreme vocals have been incorporated into the avant-garde (or, perhaps, had their existing avant-garde nature recognized by peers). Sunn O))), with Attila Csihar on vocals, have performed as part of a gallery installation by visual artist Banks Violette; Morbid Angel vocalist Steve Tucker’s growls were incorporated into Matthew Barney’s surrealist film Cremaster 2; Brutal Truth frontman Kevin Sharp and Mike Patton, among others, have worked with John Zorn. “Pig squeal” sounds have yet to make the transition to art-scene acceptance, though—some things remain beyond the pale, which is probably exactly how the artists want it.

Here’s a Spotify playlist featuring all the bands discussed above, plus a few more:

March 1, 2013

Lost Soul

lostsoul

The Polish death metal band Lost Soul has released a new album, Genesis: XX Years of Chaoz. It’s a two-CD set; the first disc, “Genesis,” features newly recorded versions of songs from their entire career, starting with their earliest demos and going all the way up to their last album, 2009′s Immerse in Infinity, as well as some new material, plus covers of Metallica‘s “For Whom the Bell Tolls” and The Prodigy‘s “Spitfire,” while the second disc, “Lords of Endeavors,” actually anthologizes those demos.

The band has put together a three-part video series documenting the recording of the set. Here’s Part 1, which captures drum tracking:

Here’s Part 2, covering guitars and bass:

And here’s Part 3, which shows frontman Jacek Grecki recording vocals:

I’ve always liked Lost Soul. Polish death metal has a uniquely chunky, bottom-heavy sound – you can hear it in Vader, Decapitated, and even Behemoth, and Lost Soul are great explorers of that style. The production on Genesis, like Immerse in Infinity, is high-tech (the drums sound super-triggered and mechanical, but not in a chintzy way; they batter at your skull like a jackhammer, practically causing concussion), but the music isn’t about extremity for its own sake. The guitar riffs have a head-nodding, magnetic power, and the solos are fleet and melodic, with sophisticated harmonies that recall Judas Priest and Iron Maiden. The mix is deep and spacious, with every instrument given room to impress the listener. Genesis (which seems like it was originally supposed to come out in late 2011, but was delayed for some reason) is a great introduction to Lost Soul‘s impressive discography.

Here’s a stream of one track, “Black Forerunner”:

July 6, 2012

Manowar

The Lord of Steel (Magic Circle Music)

Buy it from Amazon

by Phil Freeman

It’s been 30 years since Manowar‘s debut album, Battle Hymns, was released in August 1982. When they first appeared, led by former Black Sabbath tech Joey DeMaio on bass and Ross “the Boss” Friedman on guitar (formerly of the Dictators), with vocalist Eric Adams up front and drummer Donnie Hamzik in the back, they were pretty much perfectly in tune with the metal zeitgeist. Their sound was post-Steppenwolf biker rock amped up for a new decade, slick and polished with squealing guitar solos and choruses meant to be screamed by arenas full of fans. And their lyrical worldview was set in stone (or forged in steel) early on: themes of brotherhood, love of metal, and—somewhat more surprisingly—a cultivated alienation from mainstream society that verged on the sociopathic. The narrator of “Death Tone,” the opening track from Battle Hymns, has a lot in common with John Rambo, the hero of David Morrell‘s novel First Blood (which was significantly more fatalistic and haunted than the movie); the lyrics include “Now, you were sittin’ home/And I got sent to Nam/I went to the big house/You just worked a job” and “Unemployment checks run out next week/It won’t be very long ’til I’m back on the streets again.”

This kind of working-class realism struck a chord with metal fans of the time, who’d embraced similar sentiments in songs ranging from Black Sabbath‘s “War Pigs” in 1970 to Judas Priest‘s “Breaking the Law” a decade later. This worldview would continue to crop up in Manowar‘s lyrics as late as “Return of the Warlord,” the opening track from 1996′s Louder Than Hell and a sequel to “Warlord” from 1983′s Into Glory Ride. The song included the lines, “I got no money or big house, just got life/I don’t like to save, it’s more fun to spend/If you like metal, you’re my friend/And that bike out in the yard, that’s my wife/Don’t try to understand me, my family never will/Had to punch my teacher out, now he’s chilled/I might stay in school or die in prison/Either way, it’s my decision/One more beer and heavy metal and I’m just fine.”

This identification with biker culture is but one of three primary themes in Manowar‘s music, though. The other two are: a fantasy-based heroic mythos that incorporates elements of Viking culture and a more generic warrior-ism, as exemplified by the 1982 movie Conan the Barbarian; and songs that glorify Manowar themselves and their fans. Manowar frequently employ steel as a central metaphor—their songs themselves are compared to swords and hammers, and nearly a dozen of them have “Steel” or “Metal” in their titles (“Secret of Steel,” “Black Wind, Fire and Steel,” “Heart of Steel,” “The Lord of Steel,” “Metal Daze,” “Gloves of Metal,” “Kings of Metal,” “Metal Warriors,” “Brothers of Metal Part 1,” “The Gods Made Heavy Metal,” “Die for Metal”). Many Manowar songs, such as “Kings of Metal” and, on the new album, “Manowarriors,” are about the awesomeness of being Manowar and fighting for metal and brotherhood in an indifferent or even hostile world.

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