Me, Scott, and $22 beer. |
Banged out show. |
"Wonder had gone away, and he had forgotten that all life is only a set of pictures in the brain, among which there is no difference betwixt those born of real things and those born of inward dreamings, and no cause to value the one above the other." --H.P. Lovecraft, The Silver Key
Me, Scott, and $22 beer. |
Banged out show. |
He's running free... |
Maiden’s first two albums are a compelling fusion of punk and heavy metal, blending everything that made that moment in time unique. And that made Paul Di’Anno just what Maiden needed as a lead vocalist.
Di’Anno had an unpolished, angry, raspy style, perfect for songs like “Prowler,” “Running Free,” “Wrathchild,” and “Killers.” He brought a menace to the stage and looked like he might kick your ass after completing the set.
But that’s probably underselling Di’Anno, who also could straight out sing in an emotive, soulful way, as evidenced with songs like “Remember Tomorrow” and “Strange World.”
I am someone who firmly believes Bruce Dickinson greatly elevated Iron Maiden. Founder and bassist Steve Harris wanted someone with greater vocal range, stage presence and professionalism, and found him in Dickinson. Maiden would not have achieved the heights it reached had Bruce not joined the band.
But that does not diminish Di’Anno’s contributions in the slightest. They are immeasurable. And those first two albums are still damned good. Today they sound as fresh and unique as ever, and still make it into my rotation.
RIP Paul, and thanks for the music.
This book can have none more attitude. |
This thing is a beast, an obvious labor of love. 456 pages. 20 stories. Illustrated throughout. An incredible lineup of authors. How the hell did editor Jason Waltz manage to land this group, a who’s-who of fantasy writers? Each story gets an outro penned by Waltz, a smattering of biographical info coupled with his insights on what makes each story fit the prescribed “sword-and-sorcery attitude” that unites each of the stories.
This book has attitude.
Did we mention attitude?
Waltz plants an Iwo Jima-esque flag for what sword-and-sorcery means to him. It can be summed up in one word. Attitude, with a capital A. Always. Stories of vital, never-say-die protagonists, shouting “enough talk!” before contemptuously hurling a dagger into their garrulous foe (this actually happens in one story). Think of Conan cutting down a magistrate and hacking his way free of a corrupt courtroom, or running down a cruel Frost Giants’ Daughter in the snowy wastes. “An indomitable will with the passion to live,” Waltz proclaims, in his introduction to the volume “It’s Not Gentle.”
This attitude accurately describes a large swath of S&S, and undoubtedly draws many fans under its bloody banner. Including me.
It’s an interesting and compelling way to look at the subgenre, even if it does circumscribe S&S a bit more narrowly than I’d prefer. I suspect it might leave out the Clark Ashton Smith weird/antiheroic strain of Satampra Zeiros that I enjoy, for example. I’m not sure if it permits a story like “The Best Two Thieves in Lankhmar,” or most of the Elric stories. I fear something like HP Lovecraft’s fuck around-and-find-out, dreamy and atmospheric “The Doom That Came to Sarnath” would not make the cut.
Even Conan realizes the pen is often mightier than the sword, and diplomacy is needed.
On the other hand Waltz’ theory allows for a story like “Suspension in Silver,” a story set in the present in which werewolves attack a tattoo parlor that most probably would not consider S&S. So in another sense, it’s permissive.
Sword-and-sorcery can mean different things to different people, and readers gravitate toward it for many reasons. Though it is admittedly a relatively narrow subgenre dominated by men and women of action, there are different strains within it, not all flush with attitude.
We can decide what sort of S&S we prefer. And that flexibility allows an editor to curate a vision for what type of stories he or she wants to publish.
Waltz plants a firm fucking standard in the ground with NBNY. A giant middle finger at the sky, drenched in blood. I commend him for this.
Are the stories any good?
Of the 20 tales, I liked at least 13 of them. S&S anthologies are never perfect and I consider this a very good hit-miss ratio.
My absolute favorites included:
• Soldier, Seeker, Slayer, John C. Hocking. A powerful story with an end that hits like a ton of bricks. A mercenary who has lost his memory has it all come crashing back.
• The Stone from the Stars, Chuck Dixon. This was well-told, amusing, and entertaining start to finish. Reminded me of a Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser story with a little more gross-out action.
• Evil World, John Fultz. Fultz is one of the best S&S writers working today and delivers the goods every time I read him. This story taps into the mythic, with battles against external evil and weakness within.
• Reckoning, Keith Taylor. Taylor is an excellent author, full stop, one of the best of the S&S “silver age” or whatever you want to call it, late 60s to early 80s. The author of Bard takes us back to his sweet spot, Dark Ages Ireland for a tale of Nasach. The combat is 10/10. Great little tale.
• Bona Na Croin, Jeff Stewart. I don’t believe I’ve read anything by Stewart before but I loved this gritty story from an unknown to me author. Very Taylor-esque with its ancient Celtic setting, good use of grit and historical realism that makes its irruption of weird magic powerful and horrifying.
• Virgins for Khuul, Steve Goble. Another new name I was pleased to be acquainted with. This was like a much better told Death Dealer story, over the top but in a fun way. Includes a massive snake and a protagonist with the moniker “Slaughter Lord” … but it all works.
• The Last Vandals on Earth, Steven Erikson. Erikson is a great author even if I have no intention of wading through his Malazan series. Powerful and well-written with an emotional charge, dying letters written in blood never fail to move me.
• Maiden Flight, Adrian Cole. Very apropos ending for the book. Concerns a Valkyrie and a warrior not ready to depart for the halls of Valhalla. The Northern thing never fails to land with me and this one stuck the landing.
Five other stories were good, entertaining if not as unqualified good as the ones above. Seven failed to land with me, likely a matter of taste and style. The only disappointment I want to mention is the Joe Lansdale story. I am a HUGE Lansdale fan and was greatly anticipating this one, but I bounced off its gonzo style and (very) strange subject matter. It reminded me of his The Drive-In, which I also did not particularly enjoy. I love Lansdale’s Hap and Leonard stories, and several of his standalone novels including The Bottoms. He writes humor better than any author I’ve read, save Douglas Adams. He can do pathos and action with equal facility. I’m firmly in Joe’s fan club and he can take the critique. Other reviewers seem to like “The Organ Grinder’s Monkey” so make of this what you will.
TL;DR, get this book and read it. You will be entertained, and your testosterone levels will increase. It’s pretty metal.
Rock on.
Nosebleed seats but what a view! |
Spiraling into a (digital) void... |
While bands in the sixties and seventies got robbed by dodgy managers, modern artists and groups get robbed by streaming services like Spotify, who pay a fraction of a cent per play. It’s not even worth looking at Sabbath’s income from Spotify, it’s so small.
People tend to ask me: Could Sabbath happen now? The truth is, probably not. The odds of four working-class lads coming together in a rough place like Aston, writing very heavy songs about their gritty reality and making it in the music industry are slim to none. They wouldn’t look “right,” they wouldn’t sound “current” and they’d be too much of a risk for major record companies.
Take a bow, dudes. |
Scott (of Scott's Thoughts) and I waiting for the metal madness. |
Damn this was good... but probably not $18.25 good. |
(Editor’s note: Scott’s Thoughts are occasional guest posts penned by my friend Scott. And by occasional, I mean, once every sixteen years or so. You might recall the prior entry in this series, a list of his top 3 Arnold movies, Stallone movies, and heavy metal albums. Today is a more reflective post. I hope you enjoy it. Please stay tuned for part 3 expected sometime in 2040).
Back by popular demand..... Scott's Thoughts! Something you don't need or want, but here we go!
Today's thought concerns sincerity.
When you're down in the dumps, you need Scott's Thoughts to Cool You Off! --Paul Stanley (probably) |
To me the difference between Kiss and AC/DC is sincerity.
Murph and I have discussed before how Kiss was going through the motions the last 15 years of their touring career. It reeks of a money grab. AC/DC continues to put out albums and tour, yet it seems like they truly enjoy it. Actor Michael Caine at least had the guts to admit that the only reason he did Jaws the Revenge was because his mother needed a new house! You can't fake sincerity, or at least you shouldn't.
Over the next eight months Murph and I are going to see three concerts: Judas Priest, Metallica, and Iron Maiden. Three bands who would never be mistaken for young, yet all three are still producing new material. As Murph recently reviewed, the new Priest album is incredible! If you don't enjoy the newer Maiden progressive trend, that's fine, but I haven't heard of them being accused of going through the motions. Some bands like to experiment and try new things over the course of their career (Maiden, Rush) while others stay the same yet still kick ass (AC/DC). I'm OK with all of it (even though I prefer early Rush).
Once I perceive a band to lose sincerity, I'm out. Stay Sincere!
That’s all for now, time to watch Jaws the Revenge.
The first time I saw Black Sabbath live was on the Ozzfest tour, Mansfield MA, June 1997.
27 years ago.
Black Sabbath released its debut album, the self-titled Black Sabbath, in 1970.
27 years prior to Ozzfest.
That means, Sabbath had the same distance from its earliest days playing clubs in Birmingham to that warm June night in 1997 as I do, right now.
Ozzy was 49 years old then, a year younger than I am now.
Kind of mind blowing.
What made me just think of this bit of ephemera, other than it came to me in the shower and compelled me to fire off an inconsequential blog post? What does it matter?
Don't ask me, I don't know.
False metal cowers before this shield. |
The boys from Birmingham haven’t let me down, yet. Heck I even like Turbo.
Could they do it again?
Yes they can, and they have. Rob Halford is 72 years old and this is JP’s 19th studio album. They’ve earned the right to do nothing, even coast on mediocrity… but they’re still bringing the heat.
Really, the new album is a marvel.
If you’re a true fan you’ve probably already read the reviews. Invincible Shield is about as good as the press it’s getting. I say “about” because I still perhaps enjoy Firepower a bit more, but that might be because I’ve listened to it far longer. I need a new more spins of the new disc before I decide.
It’s way better than I hoped.
I was trying to think of how to review the album and honestly, there’s not much I can say that hasn’t already been said. Though I have said something, and you will find that below. I lack the technical music vocabulary to be a good music critic. I know what I like (classic metal) and Invincible Shield is it.
What you might not have heard so much about (at least I haven’t, though admittedly haven’t gone digging, either) is the lyrical content of the opening track, “Panic Attack.” Which to me is a brilliant critique of almost everything that’s wrong with the world today.
(note: if you don’t want to hear this semi-rant and just get the review skip to the section break)
I actually think there isn’t nearly as much wrong with the world today as we believe there is. With one massive exception. The internet.
Judas Priest isn’t necessarily known for its thoughtful lyrical content as compared to say, Iron Maiden. Priest is more apt to write up tempo rockers, songs about motorbikes on the highway, powerful metal warriors, or gay sex (I love “Eat Me Alive” BTW, no bigotry here).
But of course Priest can write thoughtful stuff from time to time, and “Panic Attack” is one of these songs. I’m not saying it’s Neil Peart level lyrical content, but it is an on-point critique of the internet fueled panic that I believe is the root cause for the high rates of teenage anxiety and depression, and adult political division, we’re seeing today.
Really, are things actually worse today than they were in say, 1940? Or 1860? Or 1660? Do you actually believe this?
You know the answer. They’re not.
We are wealthier, healthier, in almost every measure today than we have been at every point in our history. But I don’t blame you if you don’t agree. You’ve been programmed to think that way.
So have I. So have we all.
Yes, we have problems today. I’m not making light of foreign wars, terrorism, global warming, bad politicians, inflation, on and on.
But what you don’t hear about are the rapid elimination of poverty. Medical improvements. We’re wealthier, better fed, live longer lives, with higher IQs (YouTube comments to the contrary).
But we’ve all been deluded by the virtual reality we live in, which is rapidly becoming reality. At least in our minds.
If everyone in the U.S. had a cellphone in 1863, or 1918, we would not to be able to get out of bed. We’d be watching thousands slaughtered on the battlefields of the South, or dying in the millions from the Spanish Flu.
Things aren’t great all over, there is cause for alarm… but the world is getting better overall. But our mindsets? Worse.
I always say when you’re looking for an answer to a complex problem, follow the $. Bad news attracts eyeballs, it’s part of our flawed human nature, so news outlets and independent creators on YouTube focus on telling these stories and sewing division to get more ad revenue. The platforms want you to spend every waking hour on them, and reward that behavior.
Politicians know they get airtime when they sling mud or label everything a crisis, or describe the outcome of every election with the solemn intonement “our democracy hangs in the balance.”
We’re so reduced to soundbites that this is what passes for thoughtful discourse.
The result is an endless supply of apocalypse. On call, 24-7, on your mobile phone. A twisted funhouse mirror on what is actually real, the world outside your window. Until, as Halford sings, “there’s no way left to tell what’s right from wrong.” Unless you “disconnect the system.”
We all need to put our phones down and touch grass. I hate that fucking phrase but there you go.
Division sells. We’re doing this to ourselves, fueled by a constant stream of technology driven negativity. The winners are Google and Apple and TikTok and Facebook.
The Priest has exposed this problem with “Panic Attack.”
The clamour and the clatter
of incensed keys
Can bring a nation to its knees
On the wings of a lethal icon
Bird of prey (aside: is this a Twitter reference?)
It’s a sign of the times when
bedlam rules
When the masses condone
pompous fools
And the scales of justice tip
in disarray
The good news is that I see some signs of people pushing back on this, booing AI for example, which is as inhuman and fake as it gets.
The actual album review
As for the album? Short review: It kicks ass.
Longer review? It kicks serious fucking ass.
The first time I heard it, I was like OK, “Panic Attack” is killer. Now how about “The Serpent and the King?”
That destroys too. I like it even better. Might be my favorite song on the album. At least at the moment. The guitar behind the chorus mimics the sway of a serpent, I swear. Love it.
Now we’ve got “Invincible Shield.” Title track, so it’s got to be good… and yep it is. It’s awesome.
Surely it must let up at “Devil in Disguise.” Or “Gates of Hell.”
Nope, and nope. If you’re keeping track at home that’s five fucking straight songs of all killer, no filler, for a metal band whose first album, Rocka Rolla, came out FIFTY YEARS AGO. “Gates of Hell” might even be my favorite track on the album.
I even really like song six, “Crown of Horns.” It’s a melodic, slow tempo song, but we NEED it here, to break up the metal destruction. You can only take getting your ass kicked so much.
OK finally, things let up a bit with song seven, “As God is my Witness.” But it’s good.
The rest of the album is uniformly good, even if it doesn’t rise to the height of the first half. But “Giants in the Sky” is wonderful, would make for a terrific coda to Priest’s career and the end of the metal era (“homage to the legends ‘til the better end, leaving such a legacy my friends.”)
Giants indeed.
Overall, the production and sound of the album is a 10/10. Halford can still sing (and he’s not what he was circa 1974-87, but who is?). Richie Faulkner is a guitar hero. I’m incredibly pleased with it, and happier yet I’ll be seeing these guys next month and will get to hear some of it, live.
I celebrated a milestone birthday this past week at the Outer Banks, Corolla NC. This was not conceived as a "Murph's 50th"; we and three other families had been planning a summer trip as a “farewell to all that” sendoff for four daughters headed off to college in the fall. Four families about to become empty-nesters, and we wanted to give us and the kids something to remember. After many planning meetings and hard scheduling sessions we finally landed on the week of June 24, which happens to coincide with the day I turned 50 (b. June 26, 1973).
Which worked out beautifully. Geddy Lee fruitlessly prayed for time to stand still, recognizing that children inevitably grow up, and old friends have a tendency to grow older. Still, there was no better way to celebrate getting old than together.
16 people. One enormous (10K square feet, 3 floors, 8 bedrooms) rented house just a short walk to the beach. Imagine a seven-day party among great friends with whom you’ve watched your children grow. Folks with whom I’ve spent many memorable weekends, but never something like this.
We saw wild horses, ascended a lighthouse, jet skied, played mini-golf with buckets of beer, went bar-hopping to the Sunset Grill in Duck, and beyond. Walked the beach, saw sunrises and sunsets.
And I was treated to a surprise birthday party for the ages.
On Monday us six dudes (Steve, Rob, Brian, buddies all about my age, plus two sons) hit a local taproom, a pay by the ounce joint (amazing concept BTW). Which was awesome in its own right, but proved to be a ruse to get me out of the house. While we were out, the 10 gals back home went to town decorating and getting dressed up for a metal party.
As we pulled into the driveway I noticed odd decor on the front door. Skulls, devil horns, you know the rest. My metal senses were tingling. The door opened and I could hear KISS’ “Rock and Roll All Nite” blasting on the third floor.
And walked up to this.
It was bedlam. Metal karaoke. We sang Whitesnake, Judas Priest, KISS, Poison, Iron Maiden, AC/DC, Twisted Sister, you name it, we queued it up. I was treated to a 10-minute pre-recorded video with wonderful tributes from friends, my wife, and, apropos to the occasion, KISS guitarist Tommy Thayer. Since my daughter uploaded it to YouTube I’m including it here; feel free to watch even though its personal (mother, brother, sister, wife, daughters, others, referencing stuff from my childhood and you will miss many of the references). I may or may not have dabbed a tear. Must have been the hairspray.
My wife Susanne, master planner and organizer, knocked this out of the park.
The party continued on the outside decks. At this point our neighbors couldn’t help but take notice and they crowded their decks to watch the nonsense. A couple party goers jumped up on a picnic table and we had everyone singing “Rock You Like a Hurricane” and “Cum on Feel the Noize.”
As dark descended we walked to the beach rolling the karaoke speaker with us, blasting “Turbo Lover” and illuminating the boardwalk with strobe lights. Sang Whitesnake and Bon Jovi with the waves crashing behind us. Then came back home.
Later that night I started a conga line that ended up in the swimming pool. One of the ladies forgot her phone in her back pocket. We stuffed a hot tub and kept the tunes and booze flowing. It ended with the cops coming out (noise complaint, justified) that finally ended things just short of midnight. Probably for the best since the celebrations started at 9 a.m.
We might be getting older but we still rock.
I’m officially an old fart, but also officially the luckiest man on the planet.
The wife and I... married 26 years, still metal. |
Metal Friday is a day late this week but coming in hot, ready to smash your face in with the death tone of amplified guitars and massive hammers of war.
Most metal album cover ever? Probably. |
Yes Manowar has a few ridiculous songs … and I love those too.
Here are five guaranteed to raise my testosterone levels to the level of the occupants of a Viking longship circa 9th century AD, and get me ready to fight the world. Whilst eating beef and drinking ale.
Warriors of the World. The first comment on Youtube is I just played this song for my 4 week old son. He’s now 40 and a navy seal. Manowar has this effect, I've seen it. Probably their ultimate anthem.
Hail and Kill. By Divine Right, this one rips.
Fighting the World. I’ve been fighting the world every fucking day for nigh 50 years and will keep doing so… stripes on a tiger don’t wash away.
Master of the Wind. Manowar can do wistful ballads too … infused with mighty power. Manly tears. Might be played at my funeral.
The Sons of Odin. Love the groove in this one, hits you in the face from the opening beat and never lets up. Sword and axe sound effects. Valhalla I am coming, open the door.
Honorable mentions: "Mountains," "Carry On"
Me and Scott... and 24 oz. Miller Lite |
It strikes me that I haven’t reviewed nor mentioned the recent Iron Maiden show I attended last Friday at the Prudential Center in Newark, NJ. I went with an old buddy of mine, Scott, a dude I brought to his first Maiden show back in 2008.
I first saw Maiden back in 1991 on the No Prayer for the Dying tour, so I was an old hand when I broke Scott’s Maiden cherry 14 years ago. It was great to see Maiden with him again. We may be getting older but we’re still rocking.
What can I properly say about Iron Maiden that hasn’t been already said? Very little. They’re probably the greatest heavy metal band of all time. They are to metal what the Beatles are to pop rock, or Johnny Cash is to country. Fucking legends, full stop.
But I have to say something. So here's a statement.
What makes Maiden special to me is that they don’t compromise. They have integrity. They do what they want, they don’t change with the times, or blow with the winds of fashion. If you don’t like it, tough shit.
Not everyone likes their current direction. Yes, they are writing long songs, and perhaps deserve some criticism for too much repetition.
But I’ve come to accept that it’s what they want to do. They’ve earned the right to do what they want, after 40 years of entertaining us. And frankly, I still like what they are putting out. Not unreservedly, but some of it.
Maiden opened up with three songs off their new album, Senjutsu. That’s probably the kiss of death for many bands. But not these dudes. The crowd was into it. And the third song, “Writing on the Wall,” was met with a roaring reception. “Writing on the Wall” was written pre-COVID-19, but it has an apocalyptic feel, apocalyptic lyrics, and the timing of its release makes it feel like a commentary on the state of the world circa March 2020. It still feels like we’re on the brink of disaster every day, between climate catastrophe, looming nuclear war with Russia, saber-rattling with China, and the general savage in-fighting between Republicans and Democrats, and everyone else on Twitter and Facebook. We’re living in a shit-show and this song captures the Four Horsemen quite well. I love it. Listen below.
I also liked that Maiden played “Sign of the Cross” and “The Clansman,” despite the fact that both of these songs are from the Blaze Bayley era, a time when Maiden was at its lowest ebb. It doesn’t matter; they’re great tunes, and are just awesome in concert. Kudos to Bruce for swallowing his pride and playing songs from an era where he voluntarily left the band. He knows they kick ass.
Again, integrity.
My one criticism? No songs off Somewhere in Time or Seventh Son of a Seventh Son, the two albums where I believe the band hit its creative peak. But, I can’t complain too much. Maiden has begun advertising a 2023 “The Future Past Tour,” which if you see the imagery will feature a heavy dose of SiT. So, I’m OK with it. They still cranked out “Revelations,” “Fear of the Dark,” “Aces High,” “The Trooper,” “Flight of Icarus,” and of course “Hallowed be thy Name” and “Run to the Hills,” among other hits. A great mix of classics and new material. “Blood Brothers” has become a classic from the modern/post Bruce reunion era of Maiden, a pean to the spirit of the brotherhood of men, and of boys and their fathers. Bruce sounded great.
So, there’s Maiden. No compromise. Still kicking ass in 2022. I’m so glad they’re still around when they could be enjoying their retirement years on a beach in Maui.