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Death Metal Album of the Week: Blood – O Agios Pethane

In the forgotten backwoods, abandoned cellars and dimly lit city alleys of this devastated remnant of social collapse prowl psychotic minds that rule their victims with fear and torture and traumatic pain shall be their legacy on earth. Serial killers have left their bloody trail on our culture because of their mechanical insistency of treating people as objects, as useless organic spawn of a world that offers little appeasement for neurotic, frustrated impulse or desire. As if to prospect a visceral counterpart to the psychoanalytical surgery of many previous albums of the week, such as “Changes” and “Hallucinations” (both appropriately originating from Central Europe), this ritual of Blood alongside the recent Autopsy review lunge into gore and swarming maggots, while entrails burst and bodyparts are severed by brutal bludgeoning weapons.

Readers of our zine archives have noticed the tremendous impact of Napalm Death and Carcass pioneered social but spirited grindcore upon the entire scene, as well as how quickly the failure to invent surprising music within the boundaries of the style evaporated the desire of bands and audiences alike to keep to the principles of grind as something sacred. While countless German demo bands were cranking out noisy, self-indulgent and hectic odes to fun and horror movies, Blood’s economical but poetic hallucinations spanned the philosophical (“Linear Logical Intelligence”), the mythological (“Kadath”) and twisted black humor (“Sodomize the Weak”), building into an entire self-consistent worldview on par with the anguished, outwardly more serious output of contemporaries Morgoth and Atrocity.

The tuneless, stumbling, roaring moments recall Canada barbarians Blasphemy and early Voivod, while the drawn out, precise clarity glimpsed like sun behind the clouds when the band regroups and reformulates its attack through moments of slow, traditional metal riffs are akin to Finnish death metal moments (hardly surprising as this band was widely heard in early 90′s Finland despite being almost forgotten nowadays). The truncated track lengths (3 minutes maximum) reveal an ascetic, rigorously disciplined plan to build albums from sheer musical force of expressionism, cut into bits as in a Burroughsian tapestry of absurd and horrifying moments trapped inside the madness of civilization and natural lifecycles. Nothing could be farther from the haphazard, elongated drone rock-outs that characterize trendy metal of the new millennium, so it is perfect time to taste the Blood.

Autopsy – Severed Survival

Although Chris Reifert’s work on the now legendary, but perhaps over hyped “Scream Bloody Gore” was compelling, it is hardly worth mourning the fact that this death metal genius would leave Death and form the mighty Autopsy. On the contrary it remains a blessing, and while Death would continue to churn out a few more solid death metal records, Autopsy would themselves create a few classics whose extreme visions of death would underlie much of the philosophical vision of countless metal bands. Undoubtedly, Autopsy would also influence the worldview of many fans who would learn to eschew the illusion and flight and fantasy of modernity, in favour of a sober glimpse into the workings of reality in all its horrifying and powerful glory.

Autopsy’s barbaric and seminal album “Severed Survival” offered the listener what would by 1989 arguably represent the nihilistic and amoral apex of the burgeoning death metal genre and thereby cement their place in death metal history. Primitive and raw, the power with which Autopsy frantically bash out these energetic incisions into the human psyche, indicates a desire to transcend and break down the perceived but illusory moral world order and come to terms with the cold harsh realities of existence. On “Severed Survival”, Autopsy unabashedly presents the listener with a sometimes shocking but nonetheless candid and unmitigated reality, smashing to pieces any presupposition of a cosmic moral world order. As listeners we are forced to come face to face with death, desperation and the unspeakably twisted and cursed elements inherent in the mechanisms of reality and in the collective human consciousness, which Autopsy, like a skilled pathologist expertly dissect and examine. Exhumed are the intense, destructive and “degenerate” elements that are not spoken of in civilized society but which nonetheless drive reality and remain active as motive within the omnipresent but subterranean catacombs of the human mind. Unquestioningly suppressed out fear or an inability to place these depraved realities within the context of our currently constructed, illusory but ubiquitously advocated a priori moral world-view, it is Autopsy who courageously revel in exploring the obscene and who seem bent on destroying illusion in favor of discovering, conforming to and coming to grips with the power of reality.

”A bloody pile of discharge flesh
Is what you see as you face death
On the ground is the lifeless meat
Stillborn child lays at your feet”

Musically, “Severed Survival” is a conceptually flawless album that offers insight, contrast, and dynamic through its expert use of eclectic influences and moreover, succeeds in synthesizing musical and lyrical expression to form a complete experience also made possible through the phrasal composition inherent in the songwriting of all good death metal. Drawing on Celtic Frost and the simple power chord progression that made the latter’s work so completely unified and clear, synthesizing it with heavy metal’s tendency to express impending doom through the use of slower meditative riffs, and drawing on the frantic and schizophrenic lead guitar work of proto-death metal or speed metal giants, such as Slayer, Autopsy on "Severed Survival"  executed an effectively simple, dynamic and epic work whose elements united  to create a gripping journey that remains to this day, compelling, interesting and perspective altering. Highly recommended!

Forgotten death cults from Finland: Rippikoulu

What force in the inner core of man gives birth to death metal impulse? Is it fear, hatred, obstinence, passion, paranoia, vision or celebration of power? “Rippikoulu” is Finnish for “confirmation school”, which is an institution partaken by Finnish teenagers in order to be educated in the rituals and tenets of the Lutheran church. Celebrated usually in a camp away from the city and the participants’ homes, it ironically has a habit of devolving into a minor orgy of sin while the sole motivation of attendance for most is the hope of the meager sums of money elderly relatives usually bestow upon one, after the confirmation. When small town death metal cults produced their blasphemic demo output, it’s not far-fetched to say that it was this kind of absurd experiences with organized religion that led them to deny and spontaneously analyze the hypocritical, indoctrinating social customs that lead a child or a man to accept Christ for the sake of community and convenience, while at the same time materialistically mocking the values of the spiritual tradition.

Valkeakoski was another boring town even by Finnish standards which used to smell like feces because of the paper industry, an example of climate perfect for original death metal. At surface, the most notable characteristic of Rippikoulu was their use of Finnish language for invocation, which has often been abused but at the right hands and in the right mouth withholds the tremendous syllabic power feared by Nordic warriors since the Bronze Age, as recounted in Kalevalan mythos. The stupendous music of Rippikoulu’s two demos, “Mutaation Aiheuttama Sisäinen Mätäneminen” (“internal rotting by mutation”) and “Musta Seremonia” (“black ceremony”), bridge the grindcore influenced ecstatic physicality of Xysma with earthen, suffocated sludge in contorted, space-and-time stretching rhythmic dynamicism reminiscent of Winter‘s and diSEMBOWELMENT‘s most psychedelic lapses. It gives the impression of a blind, tormented prophet shouting fragmented glimpses of pure vision to the darkened, apocalyptic world with barely any ears left to listen to human voice amidst the collapse of industrial infrastructure. In the slow, emotional leads one could hear Paradise Lost, but in its warlike sparseness and logic, even nihilism, it’s something closer to the most doomed moments of Bolt Thrower’s “War Master” while the almost ridiculously disembodied parody of gloomy gothic organ in “Musta Seremonia” brings to mind Unholy‘s drugged haze; Faustian sorrow and blasphemous sense of humor united in one single strangely reverent and innocent package which is without question another forgotten jewel of the olden Finnish death metal scene.

Vomitor – Bleeding The Priest

On first listen some would easily assume that this release were a mere product of nostalgia of underground metal of the 1980′s, at least indicated so by the production and indication that are present here. However this is death/speed/black metal firmly rooted in the underground crossover tradition of the 80′s and retains a firmly Australian sound to it. A good description of Vomitor‘s output would be the the epic thrashing of national pioneers Slaughter Lord and the crusty, retrograde execution and production that was witnessed on Spear Of Longinus‘ brilliant ‘Domni Satnasi’ album. Seeing as Vomitor have two members of SOL in their line-up this overlap is of no surprise, and gives ‘Bleeding The Priest’ a similar quality of riffcraft and execution, which is atavistic but is well versed in older styles of metal. The attitude of this release evokes German speed metal, doing the early works of Sodom and Kreator strong justice, and the manner in which catchy guitar sequences are utilised sometimes evokes Razor, had they been influenced by Possessed rather than Motorhead. A thoroughly consistent work, ‘Bleeding The Priest’ stands strongly as a milestone of Australian metal, a like a few other traditionalist acts within this genre serves as proof of ability to make new waves from trodden water, rather than being a ‘re-hash’. Very good. 

Death Metal Album of the Week: Miasma – Changes

The Germanic nation of Austria has not churned out much in the way of quality Death Metal over the years, seemingly annexed from the rest of western Europe such that interesting bands like Disharmonic Orchestra and our summoned entity of the week, Miasma, never really got much exposure beyond the scene that belonged to them and their contemporaries. Nevertheless, their proximity to such nations as Germany and Switzerland has tangibly impacted the music of the unsuspectingly titled ‘Changes’, with the necromanticism of Celtic Frost storming the Alpine borders and charging the album with the same energy levels as the classic ‘To Mega Therion‘. Infact, Miasma launch straight into the opener, ‘Baphomet’ as though they were resurrecting the old Celtic Frost that created majestic, story-telling structures from simple patterns of power-chords, although this introductory instance of Warrior worship serves only as a reference point for the advancements of this form that ensue. Bringing the rhythmic coherence of bands like Celtic Frost and Autopsy together with the exploratory, winding sequences of German Death Metal and even a touch of the Dutch like Asphyx, gives a better picture of ‘Changes’ as an album that holds true to it’s name, demonstrating the symbols of metamorphosis and makes up for the poorly phrased, broken English of the lyrics. Also similar to what Celtic Frost achieved on ‘To Mega Therion’, Miasma break the illusion that the aesthetics of Metal causes the consicion of simple but brutal phrasing to appear more simple (blockheaded) than examples from Classical music, using some twisted variations on the opening motif of Beethoven’s 5th symphony as a point from which to progress into some intelligent and thoroughly morbid riffing, as in ‘Schizophrenia‘. Leading the listener from one perspective to another is a sign of good art and ‘Changes’ does so on a journey through history, through life and through our thoughts, crushing all those inherited, death-fearing assumptions along the way.

Death Metal Album of the Week: Lou Cyfer / Cirrhosis – What is Your Pleasure? / Alcohol Rules

No, we are not being extorted by the Brazilian mafia. Nor are these the most compelling album titles, I’ll give you that, so imagine my surprise when these brothers of Sarcófago from Belo Horizonte ended up delivering a torrent of cruel riffs, delirious melodies and the same chugging, rough death metal approach one heard in the underrated “The Laws of Scourge“. We have two bands here, Lou Cyfer going on to record the capable but not as good “Worship Flesh” album while Cirrhosis, which initially boasted the involvement of Wagner himself (alongside a creepy “invisible man” on bass), recorded something forgettable much later with other members. In this involving, over-vomited split one can get an inkling of the amount of talent that used to lurk behind the spotlights of the few famous Brazilian death/thrash maniacos.

Ironically this crudely produced split sounds more clearly defined and soberly performed than most Cogumelo Records LP’s, especially the Cirrhosis side holding back tension by chaining gothic melodies and ponderous, thundering interludes to “INRI” throwbacks with musical, logical expertise, which by some Dionysian accident got itself conceptualized into songs such as “Addicted to Alcohol”. While mostly simple Brazilian death worship in genesis, the seductive smoothness of Cirrhosis’ intoxicated bastards in building rhythmic, evil expectation like conjuring shadows of the so far immaterial black metal movement, particularly the Greek style, make these small gems such as “The Last Temptation of Christ” small but significant reminders of beauty and organization in universe, like the sight of a shimmering brook amidst a gnarled, arduous sylvan path.

Death Metal Album Of The Week: Possessed – Seven Churches

In the same year that Slayer unleashed the abyssic milestone that was ‘Hell Awaits‘, San Francisco’s occult warriors Possessed unleashed this pioneering work. This was 1985. Opening to a keyboard introduction that is a rendition of Mike Oldfield’s ‘Tubular Bells‘, opening track ‘The Exorcist’ gives way to whiplashed executions and instrumentalism that of course resembles the speed metal of it’s day, with more than an obvious nod in style to the sounds of Venom and early Slayer, but a more definably neo-classicist approach to their songwriting. This structural foundation is more or less enough to give this American act, along with Master and Deathstrike the quality of being the earliest examples of death metal on their continent, taking the anti-rock phrasings of hardcore punk and welding it together with the tonal extremes of speed metal and the progressive leanings of heavy metal.

The latter is prevalent in the lead guitar work, a series of instrumental blitzkriegs that resemble the playing heard on Judas Priest or Mercyful Fate‘s classic works, with the influence of blues music marginalized and the neo-classicist element retained in the execution, put through an industrial noise filter. The distinction on first hearing would not be too far off from when one hears the guitar work from Slayer’s axemen Kerry King and Jeff Hanneman, though pertaining more towards a dissonance that Morbid Angel would use as a basis for Trey Azagthoth’s technically dazzling leadwork. As this is the most distinct feature of the musical work on this album, there is honestly little for me to say of the bass and drum work, which work as an excellent anchor for the sonic fury conveyed here. A fearsome bark by Jeff Becerra is similar to Paul Speckmann of Deathstrike/Master, with a less hoarse and guttural delivery, occasionally pertaining to a cry that anticipates the vocal work of Chuck Schuldiner (Death) and John Tardy (Obituary).

The dark atmosphere conveyed by the production is well balanced, and like Slayer’s ‘Hell Awaits’ from the same year is given the same control of quality that allows the music to breath it’s sulphuric air, and spread it’s blasphemous wings. In the history of death metal, an absolutely essential pillar and in the eyes of the reviewer, the best metal album to be released in it’s year.

Black Metal and Anonymity: A Traditionalist Perspective

Experience dictates that the modern black metal listener is in essence a “hipster”; a self referential, individualist, egocentric and more or less self-pitying individual. Moreover, experience also dictates that the modern and profane black metal musician has more in common with the lowly pop artist than with the principles and individuals that helped to create the original Norwegian black metal movement.

There was once a moment in time when black metal, like all great artistic movements strove to express something eternal, whether that was the paradoxical juxtaposition of beauty and death, the joy in battle and the growth that ensues due to struggle, or the essentially inexpressible infinite cosmos.

One of the more salient features of the nascent black metal scenes was the romantic obsession those involved had with the past. Black metal’s obsession with bygone ages pointed to a nascent, articulated, although perhaps not fully defined, desire to rediscover traditional knowledge, including the mythology, and the social and traditional norms that defined their venerable, Indo-European culture, namely Norse. As these individuals invaded the undergrowth of wisdom distilled in the remaining works of bygone ages, listeners, onlookers and now later historians were and are provided with a glimpse into the workings of a movement that pre-eminently strove to rediscover lost wisdom and to participate and explore the multifaceted plains of reality, and its highest level therein, namely the Supreme Principle.

This desire to participate in the highest level of reality can be used to shed light on the enigmatic drive to self-imposed anonymity, such that these original European Mystics indeed strove towards. As we traverse the iconography and interviews, or lack thereof, of the original black metal scene we are forced to recognize the tools by which these individuals imposed anonymity among themselves; one recalls the corpse paint, used primarily although not exclusively to obscure their physical attributes. Indeed, we recall, the use of pseudonym to obscure, nay to eschew their name and ego. Recall lastly, the ambiguous relationship these individuals had with media, in itself the pre-emptive tool for modern ego worship, as either non-existent or outright hostile. Regardless of later sensational developments in the scene, the originators reveled in a mystique of anonymity that pointed not to a new marketing gimmick but rather to the participation in a higher principle or reality, from which peek their ego and its gratification seemed comic.      

Awaiting the sign of the horns
A thousand black clouds storms
Blasphemous Northern rites
Mysticism touched
Pentagrams burning

-Immortal, “Unholy Forces of Evil”

The Main purveyors of the early black metal scene, and especially the Scandinavian Mystic Varg Vikernes seemed to be in fact consciously aware of this higher reality, from whence all proceeds. Commenting on the “illusory” nature of material reality, and its reliance upon a higher principle for its substantial and formal manifestation, the lyrics of “Lost Wisdom” proclaim:

While we may believe, our World, our reality
to be that is, is but one manifestation of the Essence

-Burzum, “Lost Wisdom”

Although such an outright recognition of the Supreme Principle is rarely encountered as explicitly in other black metal bands of the time, the anonymity and symbolism utilized by many of the protagonists within the scene, for example Enslaved and their conscious decision to explore the themes surrounding the Norse gods and the profound metaphysical symbolism implied therein, seems to point to an implicit recognition of higher principles, and perhaps the higher principle itself, from whence an expression of anonymity logically follows.

Rene Guenon teaches us that it is a mere modern deviation from the Supreme Principle and traditional doctrine that has led to current notions of crass individualism, ego worship and “originality”. Current artists are very nearly obsessed with having works attributed to their ego, and such modern profanities have even led scholars on an endless search to provide the public, and novelty seekers, with the names of those artists who completed Medieval masterpieces. Of course these Medieval artists, due to their participation in the higher Principle from which all things emanate, had not the hubris to associate their works solely with their own ego. Likewise, a search for traditional knowledge and the participation of and recognition of a supreme Principle led to a general anonymity amongst the original black metal adherents from Norway. This participation precludes the notion of anonymity described as “infra-human”, implying the dissolution of a particular in a crowd, but entails rather a participation in a higher supra-individual order. Consider the words of Rene Guenon:

The being that has attained a supra-individual state is by that fact alone, released from all the limiting conditions of individuality, that is to say it is beyond determinations of name and form that constitute the essence and the substance of its individuality as such; thus it is truly anonymous because in it the ‘ego’ has effaced itself and disappeared completely before the ’Self’

-”The Reign of Quantity and The Signs of the Time”

The key to understanding what has been said above is to recognize that in this case the Ego has effaced itself in the face of the higher Principle from which it has emanated, nay from which all things, states and possibilities emanate, while in itself remaining unaffected and unchanged by this manifestation. It is the ego that produces the “subject vs. object” sensation and produces the dichotomy of “I and Thou”. However, participation in the Supreme Principle implies a transformation, in which one becomes consciously aware that all of existence is indeed one, and that all must fundamentally be attributed to It, the Supreme Principle. Indeed, all dichotomies will have been overcome, the barriers of subject versus object will have been overcome, and one will attain immortality. Hence, in aspiring to this reality and perhaps participating in it, Black Metal musicians were quick to live among the shadows, obscure, nameless, formless, recognizing themselves and their works as naught but one of the infinite possibilities inherent in the supreme principle. It should therefore come as no surprise in connection with these thoughts that certain musicians chose such pseudonym’s as if to reflect cosmic principles, representative of the venerable Indo-European tradition of the Norsemen.

Brahman cannot be realized by those who are subject to greed, fear and anger.
Brahman cannot be realized by those who are subject to the pride of name and fame.

-”Tejobindu Upanishad”

Delving deep into primordial traditions long forgotten, those Scandinavian mystics seem to have uncovered long forgotten mystic truths, hidden within the depths of the most primordial of the Indo-European traditions – Hinduism. It should come as no surprise to those familiar with Indo-European traditions that a study of, and adherence to strict Traditional principles, a fascination with the Norse Legends combined with some occult influences, however badly understood, would lead the black metal warrior down the road of ‘Self’ discovery. It is well known that Odin himself is etymologically derived from Gwoden, another name for Indra, a God venerated as the leader of God’s in the Hindu Pantheon. With the inherent and complimentary relationship between these two Indo European worldviews, namely Hinduism and Norse Mythology established, not only etymologically but through the recognition that all true traditions aspire to the same essential goal, realization of the Supreme Priciple, it is fair to conclude that both contain within themselves the seed for mystical realization, or a knowledge of the “essence”. Of necessity, we turn to Hinduism, a more complete metaphysical system to fill in some of the blanks as to what Vikernes and company were aspiring to during the apex of the black metal phenomenon.

Return to the ring of our forefathers gods
The flames of Midgard’s fires and ancient mysticism still are

-Enslaved, “Fires of Midgard”

According to Hindu tradition the purpose of life is to become united with the ‘Self’, Brahman, the Supreme Principle, that which is enshrined in the hearts of all, according to ones station in life and capacity to do so. Again, this is the same Supreme Principle alluded to above, from which participation in, a true supra-individual anonymity necessarily springs. Although the original black metal purveyors may not have been consciously aware of the heights to which they were ascending, nor of the full traditional implications of what they were doing, it comes as no surprise that when re-discovering their traditional legends that they would inadvertently ascribe to the goal of, and rediscover some of the outstanding tenants of a more primordial, and complete Indo-European tradition, Hinduism, whose purpose again, much like that of the ancient Norse religion, was and still is to help facilitate the discovery of ‘Self’ knowledge, participation therein and the realization that all proceeds from the Supreme Principle.

“Once again, truth is one, and it is the same for all those who, by whatever way, have attained to its understanding.”

-Rene Guenon, “Oriental Metaphysics”

May 1st 2010 – Bolt Thrower, Benediction, Rotting Christ – The Next Offensive

Awakened in remorse
To rebuild from destruction
Recreate life’s evolution

Returning from the brutality of a Bolt Thrower show to recollect the events that defined it brings to mind the task of Ernst Junger, depicting the graphic scenes of martial violence and destruction in his soldier’s memoirs, ‘Storm of Steel’. Not merely the sounds of war and chaos, but the philosophy of death is what one has to confront on such a stage, and this sums up the depth of the Bolt Thrower experience. The great elemental gods of Britannia fired the opening salvo of the evening, unleashing a torrential downpour on the troops to be in attendance once conscripted into the dismal but still functional ULU venue, around the University College London site and home of the un-elite Utilitarian philosophy. A single flash of lightning, probably striking the Cenotaph for the war dead a few minutes away in Whitehall, would indicate that this night belonged to only one elite group, and the slowly multiplying hordes as if signalled to the venue by this storm omen, proved that the headliners were in everybody’s iron sights.

In the meantime, some fairly well-known bands would run through comparitively uninteresting sets in order to plug new albums or just an association with Bolt Thrower on this Next Offensive European tour. For the one unknown band, clearly grateful to the Coventry squadron for being able to provide opening infantry support, Ancient Ascendant took to the stage with some confidence and raged through their set infront of the minimal crowd at this time. The sound was not good and the technical setup of the venue’s sonic equipment would be a recurring issue throughout the night, usually leaving bands with an unbalanced sound. Even less impressive was Ancient Ascendant’s music, which was practically educated by the newer schools of Death Metal exclusively, sounding like a more frivolously melodic version of Bloodbath. A lot of generic rhythmic business with some predictably inserted flourishes of lead guitar lines and none of the compositional sense that at the very least ripping-off the old school Death Metal formula would have imbued the songs with by default. Even the next band, The Rotted’s only listenable song was from the older generic Gorerotted project, which is not much less moronic than The Rotted who are really damn retarded in this incarnation, with their stripped down songs consisting of one riff from a later Cryptopsy song played out as blasting Punk music. It’s also quite strange and not recommended to watch old, drugged up men performing breakdowns.

Considered by many as nothing more than a brief distraction, this was soon forgotten as the once powerful entity of Promethean Greek Black Metal took to the stage and the floor swelled with eager hordes. For someone that reveres the older fraction of their catalogue as highly as the Nordic classics, the Rotting Christ set provided both frustrating disappointment but also possibly the biggest surprise of the evening (not the appearance of Diamanda Galas). The transition from ancient Heavy Metal-inflected compositions of blackened mysticism to a boring and cheap form of fast and extreme Rock music with pseudo-cultural embellishments that would make Vangelis either laugh hysterically or summon the wrath of Mars upon Sakis and company, was made quite some time ago when the band sold out to Century Media and although the recent jump to Season of Mist has only marginally improved the quality of their music, the bulk of their songs is blockheaded rhythmic work that wouldn’t sound out of place on a System of a Down joke and disembodied keyboards typical of mainstream Black Metal bands to accompany the minute flickerings of nostalgia that is the signature Rotting Christ melodic style, the same tactic used by fellow Greeks, Septicflesh. Within this disastrous but obviously crowd-pleasing selection of tracks was something quite unexpected given the current direction of the band and their most recent live performances. Almost as though the old spirit of Necromayhem broke free from his sealed confines, the band launched mercilessly into ‘Sign of Evil Existence’, flooding the crowd with a sea of beautiful, extended phrasal work, causing an absolute frenzy and evoking the first old school invocations of the night. Not content with such a brief introduction to arguably the pinnacle of their early discography, ‘Fgmenth, Thy Gift’ continued the magic of ‘Thy Mighty Contract’ with the folky but regal opening riff surging into those magestic, ascendant patterns of guitar. The higher register key of these older songs manipulated the flatness of the sound setup brilliantly, with every note perfectly audible and a memorable contender for song of the entire show.

Benediction were next on stage, an aging group of Death Metal punks fronted by Dave Hunt of Anaal Nathrakh, Mistress and Never Mind the Buzzcocks fame, who nearly talks as much shit on stage as Barney Greenway, including an embarrassing appeasement of some girl’s sob story about a now deceased Benediction fan, thankfully met with a shout of ‘Only death is real’ from the front of the crowd. The set itself was a typically reliable collection of songs spanning most of their discography, better suiting the live environment than on CD, inducing as much violence from the crowd as their primitive, bouncy Death Metal can, like ‘Harmony Corruption’-era Napalm Death meeting ‘Tower of Spite’ by Cerebral Fix. It wasn’t much of a loss to have a guitar cut out during their stint, as the rest of the band seemed to push onwards, building up as much aggression as possible and justifying their placement on the bill, though it was huge relief to hear the end of Benediction at long last, for the lights to dim and the next offensive to commence proper.

Anticipation was immense for the legendary Grindcore/Death Metal ensemble and the battle hordes pushed forward like a scene from Braveheart, rivalling the force of a 90,000 strong audience gravitating towards the celebrity status of Metallica. Faint sounds of approaching war lingered from the amps over the field as Bolt Thrower finally took to the stage and launched straight into the sombre yet mammoth opening riff to ‘IVth Crusade’. The deliberate, sinister pacing of the double bass began to roll through and the crowd imploded into deadly chaos and aggressive force. As bodies began raining from the skies like mortar fire, crushing necks and leaving temporary indents of fallen victims, the atmosphere became thick with the smell of blood, sweat and the disturbing fragrances of shampoo. A large bulk of the set consisted of tracks from the last album but these were all delivered with enough power and rousing, anthemic vigour to blend seamlessly with the more skillful dynamics and evocative melodies of the older songs, from the brilliant rendition of ‘World Eater’ into ‘Cenotaph’ to the unforgettable lead guitars of ‘…For Victory’. Bolt Thrower commanded the crowd, Karl Willets looked like a war-torn veteran but still yet to be tamed as the ferocity of his vocals didn’t let up for an instant. Jo-Anne Bench is undoubtedly the most menacing female presence in the entire Metal scene, and the poorly balanced sound worked well to render the songs with more bassy fury than can be heard on record. The subtle rhythmic variations of Baz’s guitars on the other hand were not as discernable, but for a seemingly undiscerning crowd, this did nothing to quell the primal violence that tore bones asunder in a ritual of combat replication. The signature riffs were also fairly muted but managed to somehow shine through like the sun between Afghan mountain peaks, and as the band returned for an encore, the perfect choice of songs scorched the stage like a vast napalm attack, with the ominous theme of ‘War’ transforming into ‘Remembrance’ as though the sorrows of Arjuna had been cast aside as he takes to the empty plains of Kurukshetra, seeing the world as it is.

Even as the band exited, the feelings of confrontation and pugilism reigned as brawls ensued and battered humans walked out to count their wounds. The show proved how bands such as Bolt Thrower who retain their integrity, remain possessed by this same eternal process of nature’s evolution and deliver like a well-trained soldier, with precision and consistency will rule for the longest time. We will remember them.