SKULL31

NUCLEAR ASSAULT, Alive Again (2003, Steamhammer)

The skull:
As dashed-off afterthoughts go, this is among the laziest, as the skull is not original to this album, but a close-up crop of the skull from their classic sophomore release Survive. Excised from the original cover and plopped, translucent, over a terrible collage of a cemetary, a lyrics sheet, and a clearly-not-moshing crowd, this once proud skull now stares blankly into the middle distance, wondering how it all came to this. “I was signed to fucking Ian Copeland’s label…” he barely recalls as he nurses a double of whatever well whiskey the bartender at the club provided in exchange for his two drink tickets.

The music:
Somehow, I never saw Nuclear Assault back in the day. I had tickets to see them on the Out of Order tour, with Coroner opening, but the show was cancelled due to lack of interest. While it stung mightily to miss Coroner, I never really felt too bad about missing out on Nuclear Assault, as their subsequent live album, Live at the Hammersmith Odeon was pretty terrible, and the band had a reputation among the kids at my school for kind of sucking live. That said, I fucking adore 1990’s Handle With Care, and in fact, all the albums up to that point were good to great. So, when they got back together in the early aughts, I finally got a chance to see them, and they were amazing! They played the tiny upstairs bar of the club they were supposed to play in 1991, and the place was still only three quarters full, but they tore shit up. John Connelly, who is the most adorable little heavy metal hamster you can imagine, was funny between songs and lacerating during them, and the band was on fire. So how’s this live album recorded around that time? It’s okay. The sound is a bit rough, and though it takes the band a few songs to really get warmed up, they play well, and Connelly’s love-em-or-hate-em vocals are as good as you could possibly expect. But, listening to this just doesn’t capture the actual sweaty energy of seeing these guys, long after they gave up on making it, just tearing through a set of the classics because they love it. There’s more energy here than on that first live album for sure, but I think the only way to properly experience Nuclear Assault is the old fashioned way.
— Friar Johnsen

SKULL30

LUNATICS WITHOUT SKATEBOARDS INC., Welcome to the Asylum (1989, Aaarrg)

The skull:
A jawless skull smashing (exploding?) a skateboard! And, do I detect swirls of hypnosis and/or mesmerism in the sockets? A very nice painting that would make Pushead happy, until he realized that copyright law generally protects this kind of shameless style-aping from prosecution. This is a solid and well executed BDS in every way. You might even call it professional, befitting a legally incorporated band. Hopefully they filed as a C Corporation, as I’m sure Lunatics Without Skateboards Inc was a money-losing venture from the start.

The music:
Braindead speed metal that never stops. Everyone remembers the many great bands on Aarrg like Target, Mekong Delta, and Siren. Then they recall that the label also hosted some enjoyable if generic acts such as Holy Moses and Living Sacrifice. Only in the dim recesses of nightmare, at the midnight of the soul, do collectors realize that if they want to own the label’s entire, highly-collectible discography, they’re going to have to buy Welcome to the Asylum and that Calhoun Conquer LP. Night terrors ensue. Fortunately for no one, this album was reissued a few years ago with bonus demo tracks.
— Friar Johnsen

SKULL29

BLODULV, III – Burial (2005, Eerie Art)

The skull:
Staggering in its simplicity, we have yet another black-and-white photograph of a skull on a black background. That’s it. Its lower mandible is missing, as seems to be all the rage in the world of real skulls. You need springs to keep a skull intact, and apparently these are in short supply or something. The Blodulv logo, a boring old stock font we’ve seen a million times over, is superimposed on the forehead. We love it big and dumb here at Big Dumb Skulls HQ, and it doesn’t get any more exemplary than this. 10 out of 10 fucking skulls.

The music:
Blodulv are a minor but noteworthy entry in the pantheon of 2000s-era U.S. black metal. They kept it more traditional than the disturbed psychedelia of peer bands such as Xasthur and Leviathan. Blodulv sounds downright polite, really, recalling Under a Funeral Moon- / Transilvanian Hunger-era Darkthrone. I know, YAAAWWN, right? Those are such highly copied albums, and there’s nothing better than the original. And even Darkthrone, love their early stuff as I do, were not exactly original on those influential albums. So, Blodulv is dust now, leaving three albums and numerous demos, splits and EPs behind as legacy. Next!!!
–Friar Wagner

 

SKULL28

FREQUENCY, Compassion Denied (2008, Scarlet)

The skull:
Time was, if you wanted a big dumb skull on your album, you’d have to photograph one, or hire an artist to paint one (or draw one in study hall). For as dubious an aesthetic choice as it was, it was at least a conscious and aforethought decision. Nowadays, you can just email some guy on deviantART and ask for something evil, and he’ll photoshop a bunch of tentacles and tubes to some skull he found on the internet and call it a cover. It’s a shameless state of affairs which The Council has embraced only out of a relentless passion for big dumb skulls, and what is more dumb than mismatched and only barely anti-aliased Photoshop layers?

The music:
Workmanlike modern power metal not unlike Nocturnal Rites’ last few releases. Good singer, hummable hooks, lazy-but-acceptable riffing. Journeyman vocalist Rick Altzi (At Vance, Thunderstone, Masterplan) is the appeal here: a modern Dio disciple in the Russel Allen vein. As with most European power metal, when the singer is doing his thing, the guitarists are coasting on whole notes or undistinguished chugging, but when the singing stops, there are occasional moments of interest from the six (or, more likely, seven) stringers. The production is of the icepick-in-the-eardrums modern variety, all sharp edges and hard limiting, which makes it difficult to listen to the whole album at a go, but it’s probably best enjoyed piecemeal anyway, since all the songs start to sound the same by the end, even if they’re enjoyable on their own.
— Friar Johnsen

SKULL27

SCENTERIA, Art of Aggression (2004, New Aeon Media)

The skull:
An interesting attempt to make one very dull and boring skull look somewhat arty, with the tiled/mosaic sort of treatment. Mission half accomplished. The mid 2000s was when a ton of metal album cover art was rendered in browns, and while this one is mostly on the bone-white end of the spectrum, it has that same dull color scheme so many albums of this era had. Dull, dull, dull…but perfectly big and dumb. We roundly approve!

The music:
As with the album cover, Art of Aggression is competent and professional, but lacking in all originality. What to call this? There’s a strong foundation in post-’80s Testament and Overkill style thrash (chunky and downtuned), a hint of melodic death metal (they are from Sweden), and you assume they have a few Pantera records in their collection. Cut-and-paste death/thrash typical of the aughts, but if In Flames had written songs like  “Dead Point of View” or “Acts of Lunacy,” older fans would have lapped it up instead of shying away from whatever it is In Flames is doing these days. “Dead Point of View” is a good summation of the cover art too.
— Friar Wagner

SKULL26

OERJGRINDER, Skull Head (2005, demo)

The skull:
And thus, with this Belgian band, the Skullection begins delving into the depths of obscurity for worthy skull covers. This one’s big and dumb mos’ def’! Plain white skull over a combat-green background, and the demo’s called Skull Head, which makes us wonder: what other kind of head is there? The band’s completely unmemorable name is written in terrifically unreadable death metal graffiti that we wish wasn’t obscuring the skull so much, but the unimaginative concept here is one we cherish.

The music:
At least this band knows it: the slogan over the top of the skull reads: “Creator of Stupido Grinding Stonecore.” As death/grind goes it’s as competently played as it is white-label generic. The kind of stuff that’s fun and funny for about 30 seconds, then you move on and remember there’s more to life than this sort of time-wasting superficiality. They may have grown up a little since this early demo, I don’t know. They’ve released six albums since this demo came out, in addition to the almost mandatory splits and EPs favored by bands of this sort. They’ve even recorded some “acoustic grindcore” material. It all makes me want to scream “grow up!!!,” but then again I’m a grown man writing about skull album covers, so what do I know?
— Friar Wagner

SKULL25

RAGE, Reflections of a Shadow (1990, Noise)

The skull:
Although it looks like it was painted in fifth period art class by a junior class goth, this is a nice, simple skull that works despite an amateur execution. The left-to-right dome-to-teeth orientation is an unusual one in the skullection, as well. It is not clear that we’re seeing any reflections, but at least the shadow of the skull is there, so: points for thematic unity. This is notably one of the few Rage covers that don’t feature the band’s mascot Soundchaser, who is himself fairly skully. Band leader Peavey Wagner, it should also be noted, is a literal collector of skulls, albeit primarily of the inferior animal kind, but his personal collection of hundreds of skulls is nonetheless regarded with admiration by the Council.

The music:
While it was a widely known fact that my love of Rage knows almost no bounds, even I can admit that this is a spotty album. Situated between the awesome Secrets in a Weird World and the monumental Trapped!, Reflections rarely convinces on the merits. While “True Face In Everyone,” and “Flowers That Fade In My Hand” are among Peavey’s best (and most progressive) tunes, the awkward clunk of “That’s Human Bondage” and the corny stutter of “Can’t Get Out” drag the album down to middling in this band’s astoundingly large discography. This was also the last album where Peavey thought he had any business trying to hit the stratospheric high notes, which even he admitted sounded a bit like Mickey Mouse, although the final screams in “Flowers” are a spine-tingling highlight of a poignant and personal song. Compared to their last few albums, this is still a very good disc, and if it had come before, or after, their prime period (instead of smack in the middle) I think it would be held in much higher esteem by me, by the fans, and by the band.
– Friar Johnsen

SKULL24

SEVERED HEAD, Heavy Metal / Killing the Kids (1983, Plastic Canvas)

The skull:
This is easily one of the finest skulls in the BDSkullection. This skull kept its eyes, eyes that have lasers or some other kind of light ray scanning out into the void, the top of its head a spaghetti-like mess of patch cords both coiled and straight. Considering there are female band members, is it an intentional nod to Medusa and her head of snakes? The logo is simple but bleeding. Looks like we’re gonna have to strap ourselves in for a very heavy experience. But, nope, not really.

The music:
This 7″ single is the only official release from this short-lived U.K. band, coming in at the tail end of the NWOBHM surge. The Head features two female vocalists in their ranks, but the girls seem more like curbside appeal than crucial elements of the band’s sound, as they perform only background vocals. Girlfriends of a couple of the guys? At least give them tambourines, for shit’s sake. It’s fairly competent stuff, even something that might have landed a deal with a major label subsidiary in the late ’70s, but by 1983 this already sounds dated and not as dark or vicious as the best NWOBHM. The “good time heavy metal rock!” refrain in “Heavy Metal” is Helix-level retardation. The skull artwork is about 4,000 times better than the music, but in their defense, any band would have a hard time measuring the expectations set by the name/logo and brilliant cover art.
— Friar Wagner

 

SKULL23

SAINT VITUS, C.O.D. (1992, Hellhound)

The skull:
A classic in terms of bigness and dumbness. Very much looks like a last-minute “Album cover? Uh…I don’t know. How about a skull?” sort of decision. We’re on a roll here with skulls missing the lower mandible: SKULLs 22, 21, 19, 17, 14, 11 and 3 are all incomplete yet are super-skully skulls. What happens to a skull’s lower jaw, anyway? Many are lacking the power to chew even the most tender of flesh, which is a damn shame. So, the C.O.D. skull looks kind of holy with that celestial light beaming from its noggin. Incidentally, this is possibly the most bucktoothed skull in the Skullection. Not that there’s anything wrong with the bucktoothed. Don’t be hatin’.

The music:
I love that this forever born-too-late band named their album after a now completely obsolete form of package delivery. Actually, it’s short for Children of Doom, and in the title track’s chorus Saint Vitus rhymes that with “give us some room.” Sure, you got it guys. This Don Dokken produced album is, unfortunately, the band’s most underwhelming album. It’s fine, it just doesn’t offer much in the way of freshness. It’s all rather redundant, despite new blood in vocalist Christian Linderson (ex-Count Raven). The extra tracks on the CD version make the album better, adding some variety to the otherwise repetitive eight main tracks on the vinyl version. It’s not a terrible album at all; Vitus have a tough time doing any real wrong, sez me…it’s just not comparable to their best stuff. Skull-worthy for so many reasons…
— Friar Wagner

SKULL22

Krux, Krux (2002, Mascot)

The skull:
Sweden’s Krux have been firmly committed to the skull, and this same image appears on their Live DVD of 2003. This skull has lost his lower jaw, and sits amongst a psychedelic wash of green with yellow edges. Comfy in its plainness, it’s just a skull. A big dumb skull.

The music:
I am a huge fan of Candlemass, but never got totally into Krux. They’re good, I like the vocals and keyboards especially, both of which set this apart a little from Leif Edling’s main band. (Although Krux does bear a lot of resemblance to Candlemass’s Dactylis Glomerata era.) Krux is built on what sound like stripped down Candlemass riffs, which are usually pretty simplistic to begin with. Minimalist doom, maybe. This is also reflected in their consistently unimaginative album titling and totally simple artwork concept (but we love it!). There’s also some Candlemass crossover here: the song “Nimis” was first recorded by Candlemass in 2001 and it appears again here. Heck, this might as well have been called Candlemass. Best thing about Krux is we get to hear Mats Leven at the mic, a guy who never got to sing on a truly classic metal album, but should have been on tons of them. An amazing set of pipes, this guy. I’ll listen to Krux just for his work alone.
— Friar Wagner