SKULL151

KRABATHOR, Dissuade Truth  (2003, System Shock)

The skull:
Not quite sure how this big ol’ skull is dissuading the truth. What is the truth? Is it whatever’s written on the scraps of parchment shown on this cover? If these texts are the truth, how does a littering of rib cages, bones and this solitary big dumb skull dissuade it? It might be beyond our grasp, it might be beyond all earthly, human understanding. Which would make Krabathor the sole keepers of the secrets of the universe. And if that’s the truth, god help us all.

The music:
Dissuade Truth is this Czech band’s final album, Krabathor finally calling it a day over 15 years after after forming as Krabator (not sure why the extra “h” was eventually added). They appeared at a time when only serious metalheads were discovering this new form of music called death metal (1988) and I’ll bet if they came back here in 2013, they’d still be considered second-rate, despite their style being warmly welcomed right about now. Because they were always lackluster. Think Divine Empire or Jungle Rot — sturdy, simple, monochrome brutal death metal, nothing fancy, nothing overly technical, dry as a bone and totally unpretentious in its mission. Some cool guitar leads here and there that seem to come from the school of Schuldiner/Death, and a few good drum fills too. It’s certainly nothing egregiously bad. Master-mind Paul Speckmann was in the band by this time, but would you really be able to pick out his bass playing style if you hadn’t known this in advance? But go ahead, listen to the nine songs and 36+ minutes of Dissuade Truth. It’s easy to do, not at all taxing on the brain cells…enjoyable if you haven’t heard death metal for 10 years and want a reminder of its basic structure. But you probably want more than that, don’t you? I come away from this after final song “Saving of Mind” with some respect for their time in the trenches, but if it weren’t for having to review this for Big Dumb Skulls, I might have forgotten all about these guys.
— Friar Wagner

SKULL150

HATEFUL AGONY, In the Name of God (2008, self-released)

The skull:
This skull is a martyr for all the world’s ills: a crown of thorns (or black stuff that sorta looks like thorns) sits atop his head as he sadly peers down at the futility of it all. Images of religion, money, guns and sheep are obvious or symbolic reminders that no matter what, oppression, greed, violence and conformity are comin’ ta get ya. All in the name of God, apparently.

The music:
These Germans first released music in 1998, and have self-released five albums since that time. This one is their fourth, and it kinda shows why they’ve never been on a label: they’re boring. They play fairly violent thrash with gruff, not-quite-deathly vocals, and everything you hear on the 11 songs of In the Name of God has been done before. Whether it’s a collision of Vio-lence and Kreator (“Son of Sam”) or Any-Given-Bay-Area-Thrash-Band meets Schizophrenia-era Sepultura (everything else), it comes off as competent but hardly mandatory or even important. Their influences can’t be disputed — I’ll gladly listen to all the originals, but Hateful Agony are just the sort of derivative thing I can’t get excited about. Hateful Agony seem a hapless but harmless trio of dudes out for a good time, some brews, and some early slots at mid-level festivals. Apparently they’re not super-ambitious, but hey, they can’t all be Vektor, right?
— Friar Wagner

SKULL149

KATAKLYSM, Serenity in Fire (2004, Nuclear Blast)

The skull:
It’s been a while since the last real Photoshop abomination here at Skull HQ, so this truly abysmal effort is almost a welcome reminder of just how fucking dumb a skull can be. Really, it’s hard to imagine how the snake here could look less like it was actually coiled in and around the skull, which is itself glowing, for some reason, and nearly transparent, for some other reason. The (serene?) fire is terrible, and the crosses (also mysteriously transluscent) look like stone and shouldn’t be burning at all. And of course, the background and general palette are best described as “warm shades of brown.” When all these shitty digital collage covers were coming out in the mid aughts, I guarantee every band that used them thought they were so fucking badass, but I thought, “In ten years, these will all look completely ridiculous.” I was totally right.

The music:
There are some albums on the great list of big dumb skulls that completely intimidate me as they heave into view on the spreadsheet. It’s not because the albums are sure to be terrible; terrible albums are the most fun to review. And it’s not because the albums are so good that adequately capturing their excellence in a 200 word review is paralyzingly daunting; that basically never happens with skull albums. It’s because these discs, which are usually released by one of the bigger metal labels, are so middle of the road, so predictable, so completely as-expected that it’s nearly impossible to muster the energy to even listen to them, let along write about them. Serenity in Fire, it won’t surprise you to read, is a perfect example of this phenomenon. Modern Kataklysm (defined as post-Victims of This Fallen World) are not a terrible band by any stretch, but there’s absolutely nothing about them that appeals to me. They sound like pretty much every other legacy death metal band, somewhere in the middle of Morbid Angel, Deicide, and Immolation, with an occasional nod to European melodic death. All these bands have terrible triggered drums and singers trying entirely too hard to sound like evil men. They all abuse the privilege of pinch harmonics and blast for no good reason. But, they all more or less write “songs” in a traditional sense, and for this reason alone I should at least sort of appreciate them, when so many of today’s death metal bands dispense with arrangement altogether in favor of a formless sequence of interchangeable riffs. I don’t, though; I just can’t bring myself to give a shit about Kataklysm and their ilk. They bore me to death, ever and anon. And so, even though I forced myself to listen to this entire fucking album, I just can’t muster the energy to say anything specific about it. It came and it went, leaving nothing in its wake.
— Friar Johnsen

SKULL148

TAKASHI, Kamikaze Killers  (1983, Mongol Horde)

The skull:
Third horny skull in a row for this friar, and those two pointy accoutrements are all that’s unique to this very basic skull face. It’s cast in a mold of solid steel, which might have been Takashi anticipating demand for mass-produced Takashi skull masks to sell at their sold out arenas shows around the globe. Or maybe a tribute to Han Solo’s rather unfortunate fate in that second Star Wars movie. (Or if you want to get all nerdy on me and correct me, “uh, that’s the fifth Star Wars movie.” Fine.)

The music:
Alas, Takashi didn’t quite have the goods to make it to the world’s biggest metal venues, but their music sure aspired to look and sound like big boys like Ratt and Motley Crue — with a bit of a harder edged sound. Not quite Omen or even Armored Saint, but they certainly wouldn’t have been out of place on the first Metal Massacre comp. Maybe a bit like Odin’s earliest stuff? Yeah, that works. All those California band references, even though Takashi hailed from New York City. Sure doesn’t sound like it. Adding to that, and typical of the era (unfortunately), the vocalist sounds like Vince Neil. This four-song EP was the band’s only release, and I don’t regret never picking it up in record stores first time around. Other than the $ I could probably flip it for these days.
— Friar Wagner

SKULL147

RECIPIENTS OF DEATH, Recipients of Death (1988, Wild Rags)

The skull:
A standard issue horny skull impaled on an upside down cross. This whole thing screams “1988!” One thing that I do like about hand-drawn covers like this is how the logo and the title are worked in as components of the art. No Photoshop layers here: you get it all in one glorious shot. I wonder, was this photocopied straight off someone’s textbook wrapper (do kids still wrap their books?), or was it redrawn from that original and inked in sharpie for the final art? The skull-cross, evidently the band’s totem or mascot, would make a second appearance on the band’s next, and last release, this time in a much finer, painted form, but where’s the charm in that?

The music:
As goes the cover, so too, the music: this is as generic a slab of late 80s Angelino thrash as you could imagine. Dark Angel is a good starting point, with a little Slayer thrown in for good measure, although I do detect a tiny hint of the groove that would creep into thrash as the 90s approached, especially from up the coast, and more than a hint of California hardcore. The playing is decent and the production is more than good enough, especially for a Wild Rags release. The vocals are the weak link, naturally, delivered with a crossover sneer obviously modeled after Kurt Brecht. When the basketball beat goes full-court-press, these overly wordy, barked vocals really underscore the monotony of the material. There’s a reason why this band only managed to eke out a couple EPs, but I’d still rather listen to this than Municipal Waste or Toxic Holocaust.
— Friar Johnsen

SKULL146

RIPPER, Into Oblivion  (2010, Blackwater)

The skull:
This could technically be disqualified as unworthy of BDS’s strict standards under the “no skulls” rule. This skull is carrying a kind of necklace of two smaller skulls, but they were ruled inconsequential in a controversial Council 5-4 ruling. Also note that since this skull has no neckbones, it can hardly be called a necklace. Just a couple skulls clinging to some sinew or spew handing off the main skull’s chin. The big skull itself is one horny bastard. Leering with evil intent isn’t enough to show his malicious intentions, so he has not one but two sets of horns, a smaller set and a ram-like helix, and with some junk dripping off everything, this bad boy is ready to rip. Great cover, we wholly approve!

The music:
This Portland band bring to mind the dirtier work of Chris Black, like a more melodic and traditional metal-slanted Superchrist with the fun energy of High Spirits. Raw and blazing with Motorhead-like speed, it’s the melodic component that really sells this. Like early Iron Maiden with a shot of punky attitude, the riffs and melody lines strangled out by the guitarist are played with a ton of enthusiasm, and while they’re melodies we’ve heard somewhere before, they do their job, giving Ripper a hard-to-dislike sort of appeal. I like the recording, very raw but not deficient in any area…it works perfectly for what they’re doing. The vocals also bring Chris Black to mind — nothing virtuosic, but sung from the gut and heart…and Lemmy-like, of course. Once you get to the middle of the album you realize Ripper is a one trick pony, but it’s a good trick, and it lasts no longer than it should (28 cozy minutes).
— Friar Wagner

SKULL145

CANDLEMASS, Epicus Doomicus Metallicus  (1986, Black Dragon)

The skull:
One of the most iconic skull images in metal, the Candlemass skull needs no introduction, but what about it is so memorable? The horns and the spears. The horns are a diabolic touch; the drumstick-like spikes spearing the skull and forming a crucifix pattern are clearly awesome. Plus, the grainy black-and-white is perfect in its minimalism, and even has a bleakness about it. The gothic/Olde English logo font and Combat-style font for the album title…just everything. A perfect album cover, and one of the finest skull covers you will ever see.

The music:
Finally we have a skull cover that not only rules but has equally excellent music to match. This album is a mere six songs but totally complete in every way. Its atmosphere is morose and epic, the very best definition of “doom metal” possible. Interestingly, the session guys provide the most musically impressive performances: the leads of Klas Bergwall are soaring things that make the most of both aggression and melody, very much minor key and apparently taking influence from classic music, especially reminiscent of various religious hymns. His passages sound like they’re coming from the minds and hands of a church organist and not a mere rock guitarist. Bergwell is clearly a skilled player who never recorded on another metal album again (damn shame). Same story with vocalist Johan Längquist, who is not only magnificent in his pleading, desperate, booming delivery, and not only the best singer the band ever had, but actually turns in one of the most memorable performances on any metal album. Another damn shame that he would never sing on another Candlemass album. The whole thing has a creepy, medieval, ancient vibe. Leif Edling’s riffs and note sequences are amongst the most memorable in the genre — check the main riff of “Black Stone Wielder.” Awesome. What Edling lacks as a bassist he more than makes up for as a songwriter. Candlemass is only a live entity these days, no more studio recordings (so they say), and it’s just as well, because as good as successive albums might have been, they’ve never topped this one in terms of epic doom metal purity.
— Friar Wagner

SKULL144

TOURNIQUET, Where Moth and Rust Destroy (2003, Metal Blade)

The skull:
You can’t fault Tourniquet for failing to address the title with their big dumb skull, as this guy here is indeed rusting through and beset by moth. The logo and even the white background are also falling apart, which earns the band bonus points for total thematic unity. None of that makes this cover any cooler, unfortunately. If I didn’t know this came out in 2003, I’d say it could have been done in some iPad drawing app, and I’m certain that it was knocked out with the minimum of effort by some friend of the band with a Wacom tablet.

The music:
Tourniquet were never very good, although for some reason I pretend that their 1992 release Pathogenic Occular Dissonance was alright. It really wasn’t, but it almost could have been. It’s got a nicely overwrought title that suggests some kind of tech thrash, and their singer back then was not bad, but Tourniquet’s brand of aspirationally progressive thrash has always come up short in the quality department. After their original singer left, a dude going by Luke Easter (which is a very suspicious name for a guy in a Christian metal band) took over, and while his snarly Mustaine-meets-Hetfield delivery isn’t bad, per se, it nevertheless comes off as cut-rate. The music, at least since their 2000 “comeback” (after a few years trying to make a go of selling out) is also vaguely Megadethian, following the pattern of the Friedman years without even quite reaching those middling heights. And at that, Where Moth and Rust Destroy is about good as it gets for post-Occular Tourniquet, although to be fair, I haven’t heard their most recent album. There are even some nice Dimension-era Believer influences coming through here, and a song about giant squids. As with a lot of Christian bands, Tourniquet seems to get by on the guaranteed sales at Mustard Seed stores or whatever; no secular thrash band this mediocre would be able to secure label support year after year. Well, maybe they could now, especially if they played up the squids and played down the Jeebus.
— Friar Johnsen

SKULL143

SCOWL, Impetus Ex Caenum (2013, Speed Ritual)

The skull:
Man, that’s a lot of bullets. But, if you look closely, you can see the outline of the lower jaw, and from its position, it doesn’t appeal that the teeth are parted. So, maybe these bullets were drawn in after the fact? The way they extend around the back, it’s as if the entire skull were opened up to accomodate them, when clearly that’s not the case. But, whatever, man: Scowl’s artist didn’t waste his time in school time learning anatomy or perspective from The Man. He draws what he knows, and what he knows is a big dumb skull in a silly hat with a mouthful of bullets. What’s not to like?

The music:
The music, that’s what, Impetus Ex Caenum is low-fi D-beat of the dullest sort. If it wasn’t recorded live in their rehearsal room, then they certainly spent too much at whatever studio they went to. Everything about this is a sloppy mess, but the drummer deserves a special mention for his ineptitude. I don’t know why anyone would go to the hassle and trouble of starting a band, just to make this. Scowl makes me long for the fabled creative genius of Skullfather.

SKULL142

SKULLFATHER, Order of the Skull (2008, self-released)

The skull:
A garden variety skull photo, limned in red, and framed by a terribly ugly and distorted, tattoo-parlor olde English typeface for the logo and title. What else is there to say? The Council does commend Skullfather for the singularity of their commitment to the skull. It’s in their name, their demo title, and on the cover. A trifecta! But, we’ve seen some variation on this cover several times since Big Dumb Skulls was launched, and we’re hardly one-fifth of the way through all the skulls collected by The Council. It’s gonna be a long couple of years, I think.

The music:
One man, bedroom Entombed worship. And not even the good stuff, but the watered-down, post-death rock throwback stuff from the mid 00s. Then again, maybe Skullfather isn’t an Entombed clone, but a Desultory clone. Double meaning! Allx (sic), the presumed Skullfather, does a pretty good job emulating the Sunlight Studios guitar tone, but his songs are boring, his vocals unimpressive, and his drum programming pedestrian. I guess even Allx was bored with this shit, because he only produced these four songs before his one man band broke up. I won’t miss them.
— Friar Johnsen