Posts tagged ‘rob halford’

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:

July 6, 2012

Manowar

The Lord of Steel (Magic Circle Music)

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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.

October 12, 2011

Death

Human (Relapse)
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by Phil Freeman

The early 1990s were a weird time for metal. Some of the genre’s biggest bands were fracturing and faltering—vocalist Rob Halford left Judas Priest in 1991, at the end of the touring cycle for their 1990 album Painkiller. Two years later, Iron Maiden would lose their singer, Bruce Dickinson. Slayer released what many (erroneously) consider to be their last great album, Seasons in the Abyss, in 1990; two years later, they would lose their founding drummer, Dave Lombardo. Anthrax released their best album, Persistence of Time, in 1990, and/but their vocalist, Joey Belladonna, left in 1992. On the other hand, Metallica and Megadeth had their greatest commercial successes during this period with the self-titled “Black Album” and Countdown to Extinction, respectively. Suicidal Tendencies hit an artistic and commercial peak with 1990′s Lights…Camera…Revolution. And Pantera, who would be one of metal’s greatest success stories in the 1990s, released their de facto debut, Cowboys From Hell, just as the decade dawned.

As far as more extreme metal was concerned, the earth’s crust basically cracked open in 1990-91, releasing hordes of howling demons into the world. Death metal flourished as the ’80s ended and the ’90s began: Morbid Angel‘s Altars of Madness was released in 1989, as was Obituary‘s Slowly We Rot. Deicide‘s self-titled debut came a year later, as did Cannibal Corpse‘s Eaten Back to Life. But death metal evolved as fast as its guitarists played: By 1991, an offshoot mini-movement was already beginning to emerge, one that prized rhythmic fluidity and jazzy harmonic explorations as much as, if not more than, the punishing aggression that had been the genre’s primary sonic trademark. A trio of albums—Atheist‘s Unquestionable Presence, Pestilence‘s Testimony of the Ancients, and Death‘s Human—combined death metal’s blasting drums, roaring guitars and gut-churning vocals with keyboards, unorthodox compositional styles, and a complexity that recalled Return To Forever and the Mahavishnu Orchestra as much as, if not more than, Morbid Angel or Deicide. Similarly, the lyrics were more focused on spirituality than on horror-movie mayhem.

None of these were debut albums. Pestilence had started out as more traditional death metal, as had Death. Atheist had always been weird and proggy, but their 1989 debut, Piece of Time, was more headbanging than Unquestionable Presence; the replacement of bassist Roger Patterson, killed in a van crash, with the fusion-happy Tony Choy pushed the band in a more introspective direction. Similarly, Death founder Chuck Schuldiner made Human, his band’s fourth album, with three brand-new bandmembers: guitarist Paul Masvidal, bassist Steve DiGiorgio, and drummer Sean Reinert. Masvidal and Reinert would release the debut album by their own band, Cynic, in 1993; DiGiorgio was and is a journeyman, albeit a preposterously talented one, who was best known at the time for his membership in the hyper-thrash trio Sadus.

November 17, 2010

Crystal Viper

Legends (AFM)

by Phil Freeman

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The grip traditional metal holds over headbangers of a certain age is astonishingly strong, and hard to explain to anybody who wasn’t around when this style was developing in the early 1980s. Bands like Judas Priest and Iron Maiden, along with dozens of lesser-known brethren, set the paradigm: powerful, upper-register vocals; screaming lead guitars; galloping rhythms; drums like cannon-fire. In America, the style came and went, primarily because no homegrown bands succeeded with it, except for Dio. Ronnie was always the odd man out, though, pushing the theatrical, fantasy-driven thing farther than anybody else dared.

No, in the States, metal was glam, then thrash, then death, and now it’s a fistful of subgenres all feuding with each other about which ones are truly metal and which ones are bullshit for boneheaded kids who don’t know what real music sounds like. Aside from glam, it’s always been about appearing life-sized, rather than over the top. American headbangers worship Rob Halford and Bruce Dickinson (and Dio, perhaps even more in death than in the last few years of his non-Heaven and Hell career), but we relate to Metallica and Motörhead (British, but adopted, especially since Lemmy lives in L.A. now). A band like Manowar, that traffics in rhetoric implying that metal is some sort of mystical brotherhood and gives every impression of living by some opaque code, gets laughed at.

In Europe, though, traditional metal is still a major force, its larger-than-life musical and lyrical values, and performances based more around instrumental skill than attempts to convey badassery continuing to win over young listeners. Power metal takes this sound to its ultimate extreme, but there are plenty of bands around making albums that could have been released at any time between 1980 and today. And as I get older, and sicker of guttural vocals, downtuned guitars, and songs I can’t remember a minute after I hear them (but boy are they “brutal”!), traditional metal becomes more and more appealing. I know with that last sentence, I’m sounding like Mike Scalzi of San Francisco’s Slough Feg, who articulated similar sentiments in a rant on InvisibleOranges.com, but the simple truth is, a lot of death metal, black metal, thrash metal, grindcore, etc., is just lacking in the anthemic power I’m seeking these days. I want to be catapulted out of myself by the raw glory of a metal song, not smacked in the face with a fistful of tossed gravel.

Crystal Viper is a traditional metal band from Katowice, Poland. Legends is their third studio album, fourth release overall (they also put out a live album, with a few studio tracks tacked on, earlier this year). They’ve been through more than their share of lineup turnover since forming in 2003; the only member who’s been a constant presence has been vocalist Marta “Leather Wych” Gabriel. Since the band is managed by her husband, this raises questions, but never mind that. Legends is a really good album.

Like its two predecessors (2007′s The Curse of Crystal Viper and 2009′s Metal Nation), the album runs just about 45 minutes and includes nine songs and a short intro. The cover, as you can see above, is awesome: seriously, a scythe-wielding werewolf riding a horse outside a moonlit castle? Not only would the horse require special training to allow a werewolf on its back (imagine its shock if, say, they passed through a clearing, the light of the full moon fell upon its to-that-point human rider, and he suddenly became a slavering man-beast), but the werewolf would likely have to exhibit extraordinary self-control to keep from eating the horse. But I digress.

The songs are melodic and catchy. There are no ballads to slow things down. The band gallops forward, and Gabriel, whose voice is like a cross between that of power metal queen Doro Pesch and Arch Enemy vocalist Angela Gossow at her cleanest, sings of larger-than-life topics (though her actual words are often obscured by a thickish accent, track titles like “Blood of the Heroes,” “Goddess of Death,” “Night of the Sin,” “The Ghost Ship,” “Secret of the Black Water” and “Black Leviathan” give strong hints). There are guitar solos. They’re performed with energy and skill. (In addition to singing, Gabriel is the band’s rhythm guitarist, something that separates her from almost every other female vocalist in metal right now.) The bass is prominent in the mix, and somewhat high, in imitation of Iron Maiden’s Steve Harris. This isn’t even a headbanging album; it’s a fist-pumping album.

Here’s a video. If you like what you see/hear, buy it from Amazon (MP3 only; there’s no domestic CD release yet).

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