SKULL458

CAN OF WORMS, Can of Worms  (2011, self-released EP)

The skull:
What is this mess? Maybe if you stare at the cover just right, not too intensely nor too lazily, you’ll see the image of a can of worms appear, or perhaps an actual depiction of a tricky situation which requires much effort to resolve. Like one of those random dot autostereograms. Yet I keep staring and all I see is an ugly, skinny, indistinct skull hovering through what appears to be Birmingham. Or maybe it’s Detroit.

The music:
French death/thrash, according to Metal Archives. And it’s weird, the last album I voluntarily listened to was Sepultura’s Arise, and then this band comes crashing into my transom with the exact same intent. And the skill level is nearly as high, but, no dice…Sepultura did it first and did it better. Memorability and song writing acumen are lagging far behind prime Sepultura as well. Broken record time: it’s been done before, in many different derivations. Even if Can of Worms are extremely good at what they’re doing, and I’ll admit that they are, there’s nothing here you can’t live without. Back to Arise it is then.
— Friar Wagner

SKULL433

TSJUDER, Atum Nocturnem (1999, demo)

The skull:
This fanged fellow, emerging from the blackness and mist, would look a whole lot scarier if his eyes weren’t LEDs. If he leapt out at you you’d probably think, “Shit! How did I end up in Halloween Adventure?” before petulantly swatting him down and saying, “Knock it off!” And then he’d slink back into the shadows, his skully tears threatening to short out his diodic eyes, as he mumbles that no one thinks he’s scary and what good is a skull who can’t scare anyone, etc. He just needs to meet up with Rudolph and that dentist elf and maybe some holiday-themed redemption could be his.

The music:
“Tsjuder” is apparently the Norwegian spelling of “Chud,” although that sadly does not refer to cannibalistic humanoid underground dwellers. Instead, it refers to any of a group of Finnic tribes from what is now Estonia. Doesn’t sound very evil to me, but what do I know? Anyway, Tsjuder are one of those black metal bands that has been around forever (they formed in 1993) and has a certain cult cachet, but who haven’t recorded all that much and whose main output came long after the peak of that scene. I never really cared to check them out, even though they’re fairly well known, and that’s worked out for me so far, because this is the kind of lame buzzy, braindead second wave black metal that I generally can’t stand. Strictly by-the-numbers stuff, corpse paint and all. I guess Immortal would be the closest point of comparison, but maybe there’s a more apt one to be made by someone more knowledgeable than me. Friar Wagner is our resident black metal experct, but I find it hard to imagine that he likes this all that much either. I think anyone still making exactly this kind of music in 1999 is unlikely to have been very clever about it.
— Friar Johnsen

SKULL267

DAMNED PLAN, Beyond Strength (2010, self released)

The skull:
“What have we got here, detective?” “Well, it would appear the victim, a renowned brain surgeon, was examining an x-ray and trying out his new fog machine when the assailant…” “Hold on, detective. Fog machine?” “Yes, sir. The doctor was evidently also a real Halloween enthusiast. Puts up a big display at his house every year. The kids loved it.” “Gotcha. So, he’s looking at the skull in the fog and then what? “Well, sir, we believe the killer was able to enter the room without the doctor noticing because of the fog. Ironic, really. Anyway, the assailant then hit the doctor in the head with a hammer, killing him instantly. The blood splatter on the x-ray supports this theory.” “Hmm. Good work, detective. Any suspects?” “Not yet, sir, but we’ve pulled some prints from the hammer, and we’ll run them through the system.” “Okay, keep me informed, and detective? Turn off the god damned fog machine.” “Yes, sir. Sorry about that, sir, but I have to admit it created a spooky vibe. The doctor knew what he was doing.”

The music:
You think these guys liked Dimebag Darrell? Jeez. Put some effort into your band name and album title, guys. They don’t sound any more like Pantera (or Damageplan, I guess) than any other groove metal band, but they’re close enough. It’s funny how some of these tribute genres work. You get 1000 bands that all kinda sorta sound like the inspiration, but all sound almost identical to one another. Every now and then with Damned Plan, you get a flash of some other influence, like maybe modern In Flames, and occasionally singer Doyo busts out a high scream that (unfortunately) reminds me of Ripper Owens more than anyone else, but these extra-Abbottian additions to the Damned Plan sound don’t do much to pull the album out of the muck. It’s just another boring aggro slugfest that tries to groove without soul.
— Friar Johnsen

SKULL228

BURDEN OF GRIEF, Haunting Requiems  (2000, Point Music)

The skull:
Dirty, wretched, aged skull hangs eerily in the fog, leering and sneering. It’s the eyes that deliver the creeps: where the pupils would have been there are instead threads of blue electric energy. “Electric eye…in the sky…feel my stare…always there.” What could have been a dull and dumb cover is actually rendered well enough to convey the dread it’s supposed to. Gaze upon its countenance and shudder. Well done.

The music:
For those who lament that “melodic death metal” now means “anemic weak metalcore” versus what the originators of the form intended (early In Flames, early Dark Tranquillity, Eucharist, etc.), Burden Of Grief are here to fly the flag. More Sacramentum than Soilwork, these Germans sound Swedish as hell. The vocals throughout Haunting Requiems recall the scathing tones of early Mikael Stanne (Dark Tranquillity) and the music goes there too, along with a healthy shot of every-era At The Gates. This is like the missing link between early At The Gates and the refinement they underwent on Terminal Spirit Disease — all shimmering, haunting, minor key riffs and melodies, screaming vocals, and a triumphant, Maiden-esque sort of vibe, arranged more consisely than early At The Gates yet not quite as stripped down and ferocious as AtG would become. There’s even a cover of Iron Maiden’s “Prowler” here. The comparisons to better and better-known bands tells you Burden Of Grief are second-tier (“Smashed to Pieces” is so close to early Dark Tranquillity that it can be called a rip-off), but it’s certainly some of the better second-tier melodic death metal you’ll come across. Worth checking out if your hunger for the sound of real melodic death metal takes you out of Sweden and out of the ’90s.
— Friar Wagner

SKULL114

MARTIRIO, Decadencia  (2009, demo)

The skull:
Ooooh, spooky. This skull would look utterly terrifying if it weren’t for the random baby crying for mama in the lower right portion of the artwork. Huh? Also, note the ghostly growth of a skull coming out the skull’s upper left cheek. Again I say, “Huh?” But those fangs are sharp and ready to rip. The foggy haze adds some atmosphere to this frightening/silly scene, and if that skull’s goin’ down, he’s gonna mangle a few baby heads doing it. Apparently.

The music:
If I didn’t have a band picture for reference, I’d say these guys were the sort of modern death/thrash band that takes influence from fourth generation bands like Carnal Forge. You know, Xerox copies of Xerox copies of Xerox copies until the original root is lost. It just has that stock sort of sound to it. It’s very capable stuff, musically, and the vocalist is strong if utterly interchangeable with hundreds of similar others who bark in that Anselmo-meets-Cavalera sorta way. But see, the guys are wearing Metallica and Slayer shirts, so I guess they do have a deeper understanding of thrash’s history than it sounds. Still, there’s really no reason you should seek out Martirio’s seven song demo since there’s so much more easily accessible stuff around that delivers exactly the same sort of thing. Unless you cannot get enough Carnal Forge or something.
— Friar Wagner

SKULL69

DR. SKULL, Wory Zover (1990, ADA Müzik)

The skull:
Look at that fuzzy pink mohawk. Just look at it! And the golden snake earing. And the out-of-focus band picture. And the fog. And the FROG. Then look at the mohawk again. If Big Dumb Skulls were a contest, this would probably win. Shit, no “probably” about it. This is the ne plus ultra of BDSery, the pinnacle of the form. Also, the skull’s name is Vehbi.

The music:
Although this came out in 1990 (really!) it sounds like a time capsule buried in 1982. Dr. Skull were Turkish, but they sound most like early Scandinavian bands such as Gotham City or Heavy Load, plus of course those bands’s NWOBHM contemporaries. Dr. Skull are never particularly heavy, exhibiting a strong hard rock undercurrent, but if we admit there’s a fine line between early (sounding) metal and rock, this definitely lands on the right side for us, decked out in singing guitar harmonies and huge vocal choruses with hooks aplenty. The lyrics are in English, and in fact the title of the album is a play on words, a homophone for “War Is Over”. A strong anti-war sentiment permeates the entire album (which actually opens with a metalized take on “When Johnny Comes Marching Back”), and this friar finds the band’s earnestness very endearing. The thin and cheap production perfectly suits the music and further strengthens the illusion of early 80sness that enshrouds the entire project. If you’ve tapped out the NWOBHM and have all the FWOSHM material you can afford, you could do a lot worse than tracking down a copy of this excellent little obscurity.
— Friar Johnsen