tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2632879095833895232024-03-04T23:40:49.807-08:00Burning SteelDragon Brotherhood of Burning DragonSteelMasterlord SteelDragonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818449025588004254noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-263287909583389523.post-92197346043735141362014-07-14T15:35:00.000-07:002014-07-15T22:22:48.363-07:00Chelsea Grin - Ashes to Ashes: Masterlord SteelDragon's Decree<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Upon finding a suitably steamy batch of manure (preferably fresh from the bowels of an herbivore), the dung beetle will fashion it into a ball and roll it forward in a straight line over any and all obstacles. I recently watched a video in which a number of rather ambitious dung beetles pushed their respective fecal orbs up a small sand hill. Mysteriously, only one was able to conquer the dune, and it arrived at the peak swelling with pride in its feculent creation. With shining carapace it looked down at its beetle brothers - all pushing identical dung balls, but for some reason failing to clamber to the top.<br />
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<b>Chelsea Grin</b> is the ascended dung beetle. Apparently hailing from a magical land in Utah where guitars have only one string, they have somehow emerged from the droves of indistinguishable deathcore acts to relative popularity, likely with the aid of some unnamable cosmic force bent on the rape of Our Beloved Lady Metal and the theft of Her purity. Their latest album, <i>Ashes to Ashes</i>, offers you nothing more than what you'd expect: a cringe-worthy hour of brainless/shameless chuggery so disgraceful that my wife (Her Majesty Mrs. SteelDragon) pleaded with me to change her Spotify account to "private" before playing it.
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Even when the music is listenable I consider a 58-minute runtime to be excessive if not self-indulgent. Here it's actually offensive. Chelsea and the Grins are determined to cram<i> Ashes to Ashes</i>' unfortunate duration to the brim with hackneyed breakdown after hackneyed breakdown, likely pandering to the base instincts of their deeply confused demographic. To their credit, they cater to their fans: teenage girls will have something to scare their parents with and many invisible ninjas will fall to the squishy fists of sweaty life-duds in the moshpit. For those of us with more than a single brain cell, however, there isn't much to enjoy here.<br />
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Each throwaway riff serves as little more than a brief separator - a necessary nuisance to get out of the way before they can move on to the next breakdown. And they make no secret of their eagerness to do so, as most of their life-spans are pathetically short. The only remotely headbangable groove in the entire album, found at the beginning of "Pledge Allegience," survives for five whole seconds before being snuffed out by the dreaded chugmachine.<br />
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The fact that this music is undeniably witless does not necessarily mean that these boys can't play their instruments. There is, arguably, some degree of technicality on display here. However, the sweep-picked arpeggios so haphazardly included come across as a hamfisted attempt to prove something, as if to remind the listener that they <i>can </i>use the high strings, but prefer not to. These occasional, quasi-technical passages are aimless and spring up completely devoid of context, reflecting the skill of the guitarist much less than a fundamental inability to compose.<br />
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Alex Koehler contributes his "talent" in the form of generic deathcore vocals and evidently uses poems he stole from the diary of a neglected 7th-grader as his lyrics. Most of it is just the same tough-guy dross that dullards like him have been regurgitating since the early 2000's. Look no further than "Playing with Fire" for Pulitzer Prize-worthy literature such as "Burn. Burn. Burn, burn, burn. Let's burn this bastard to the ground."<br />
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What's worse still is the band's occasional self-important attempt to transcend what their genre is by definition (i.e., moshbait). They aim for uplifting and meaningful but land flat on their faces somewhere between trite and embarrassing. It's difficult to elicit any emotional response beyond uncontrollable laughter when your lyrics have the subtlety of a freight train but the impact of a wet fart. "Dust to Dust..." showcases Alex's sensitive side with such self-aware lyrics as: "I stare from my window looking outside. Sometimes I wanna just die." "Letters" repeats this four-part cliché at least two million times: "We won't be pushed or shoved. We won't give up on love. It's time to take a stand. And take life by the hand." Truly painful. I'm left astounded that there are six people on Planet Earth that passed off on these lyrics, or anything else on this Crom-forsaken album.<br />
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It could be that <b>Chelsea Grin</b> doesn't know any better. To the dung beetle, the dung ball is everything. It is its food source and its brooding chamber. It knows nothing beyond it. And so it is reasonable that the dung beetle stands atop the hill with such high regard - proud of its product, proud of what it has accomplished. At the end of the day, however, it's still just spherical shit.Masterlord SteelDragonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818449025588004254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-263287909583389523.post-37813864755475518642014-07-08T17:52:00.002-07:002014-07-09T15:24:49.801-07:00Why It's Important for You to Listen to Noble Beast<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When your favorite genre's subject matter typically alternates between death, dying, killing, Satan, and dying, you need something to remind you that there are good things left in this world - like imagining a fantasy world that actually has good things in it. Where the winged dragon roams the skies above castle-crowned hills and everflowing streams. Where valor is prized above all and conflicts are reduced to the glorious simplicity of steel versus steel. Where climbing your staircase doesn't make you gasp for air and you can hide your frankly impressive acne under an iron crafted helmet. Doesn't that sound nice? Well, my bummed-out brethren, Noble Beast can take you there.<br />
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The sad truth is that <b>Noble Beast</b>'s self-titled debut was overlooked by too many of you self-proclaimed metalheads when nary a soul should have missed it this year. Throw yourself at the feet of the metal gods and beg forgiveness, because I can't remember the last time I heard a cut of ballsy power metal this good, let alone on a new band's debut album.<br />
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Riffs unparalleled in their supreme headbangability trade off with choruses so catchy they'll claim your feeble mortal mind and nourish it throughout the day with power and metal wisdom. Rob Jalonen's vocals are incredibly theatrical but also rugged and robust, which stands out refreshingly in the endless sea of castrated male singers that dominate the genre. He stands with Joakim Brodén of <b>Sabaton</b> as proof that power metal needs more baritones. </div>
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These anthems of heroism and steadfastness in the face of certain death will send direct a pillar of undiffused zeal to your shriveled heart raisin and cause the darkness to flee to the unknown depths of distant Cimmerian caverns. Listen to <b>Noble Beast </b>and steel yourself against the ceaseless beatings you subject yourself to as a metalhead. You need this. It's for your health.<br />
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<iframe seamless="" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=3406650323/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=0687f5/tracklist=false/artwork=small/track=2471809086/transparent=true/" style="border: 0; height: 120px; width: 100%;"><a href="http://noblebeastofman.bandcamp.com/album/noble-beast">Noble Beast by Noble Beast</a></iframe><br />
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<br />Masterlord SteelDragonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818449025588004254noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-263287909583389523.post-82846966321694112012014-07-07T15:01:00.000-07:002014-07-07T23:15:12.768-07:00Vintersorg - Naturbål: Masterlord SteelDragon's Decree<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Masterlord SteelDragon has some time on his iron hands, and instead of searching for new employment or helping Mrs. SteelDragon out around the house, he's been putting it to good use: sitting atop his skull-throne with Trollson Cromcakes as his footstool, and his dominion stretching ever before him. It's given me the opportunity to listen to more music than usual, and one album in particular has been monopolizing my time. I don't like waxing poetic because real men don't wax anything ever, but <b>Vintersorg</b>'s <i>Naturbål</i> is so deserving of your attention that I'm going to review it.<br />
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In 2011, the release of <i>Jordpuls </i>marked the beginning of a four album series based on the classical elements. Let's play a game. I'll show you images of the album covers, and you tell me which element the album is based on. Ready set go:<br />
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Ok, wrong. "Trees" is not an element. What is wrong with you? Here's a hint:<i> jordpuls</i> translates to "earthpulse." Wrong again. "Pulse" is also not an element.<br />
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I bet you were going to say Water. You were, weren't you? Well guess what, nerd? You're wrong again because <i>orkan </i>means "hurricane," which represents Air. I'll admit that one was tricky, what with all of that blue water. I will award you half of one half of one steel half-credit.<br />
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Which brings us to <i>Naturbål</i> or "Nature's Bonfire." Yes - this one is about Fire. Eat like a king tonight and enjoy the comfort of many fine women, for you have earned it. To the guy who said "lava" or "volcano": compare yourself to them and then kill yourself.<br />
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<b>Vintersorg</b>'s last outing came to us in 2012, scarcely one year after <i>Jordpuls</i> was released. Knowing this, I was hopeful that <i>Naturbål </i>would be hot-on-the-heels of <i>Orkan</i>. Still, two years is nothing to sneeze at in a genre where the likes of <b>Necrophagist </b>and Jari Mäenpää's <b>Wintersun </b>tramp about unpunished, especially when you consider the quality of the material here. Andreas Hedlund and Mattias Markund have delivered the same blend of black metal and melodic, prog-laced folk that fans have come to expect from them, and that, my minions, is a very good thing.<br />
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After an obligatory but inoffensive intro, Hedlund belts out a familiar rasp and "Ur aska och sot" erupts into a squall of blast beats and trem-picking that sounds as pissed off as anything I've ever heard out of <b>Vintersorg</b>. In fact, this entire album feels considerably more aggressive than their previous work, with a higher percentage of black metal and more harshness in general. It's even reflected in the more subdued interludes prevalent in <b>Vintersorg</b>'s music: while in<i> Jordpuls</i> they were spirited and blithe, here they brim with an almost threatening volatility.<br />
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But, shower singers rejoice! - the extra dose of aggression doesn't detract from Andreas Hedlund's mastery over the memorable chorus. His knack for crafting beautiful and unconventional melodies is in full force here, and his phrasing weaves unpredictably over the bouncing riffs. Take notice, because albums that will satisfy your fiery metal heart while still being catchy enough for your imaginary girlfriend don't come around very often. I've been singing "Överallt och ingenstans" in broken Swedish for days, and "Lågornas rov's" endearing quirk reminds of the excellent chorus in <i>Jordpuls</i>' "Klippor och skår."<br />
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"En blixt från klar himmel" almost lost me but eventually managed to reclaim my attention with <b>Enslaved</b>-flavored riffing under harmonic, Viking-like chants. In sections like this, the prog abides, but followers of the band won't be surprised to hear that Hedlund is continuing his recent trend of dialing down the progressive influence in favor of a more traditional sound, which means plenty of folk for all you kilt-clad tankard-raisers out there. Parts of "Elddraken" even have a bit of a Baltic gypsy vibe reminiscent of<b> TrollfesT</b>. Permission granted for Trollson to dance about in my hall, but let it be known that any further <a href="http://burningsteeldragonbrotherhood.blogspot.com/2014/07/threshold-take-us-to-threshold.html" target="_blank">slander</a> concerning my truly impressive proportions will result in my bibbing from your cloven skull as if it were a goblet.<br />
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As great as this record is, there are a few minor missteps which the hardened music critics and/or chronic bellyachers among you are bound to notice. Apparently a certain Simon Lundström is responsible for contributing bass guitar this time around. I say apparently because if I hadn't read it with my own two charming eyes, I wouldn't have believed that he showed up to the studio at all - I can't hear a damn thing he supposedly did in there. I'm aware that requesting audible bass when black metal is involved is a fruitless endeavor, but it never seemed to be a problem for <b>Vintersorg</b> until now and I miss it dearly. Some of you will also be sure to notice that <i>Naturb</i><i>ål</i>, like all of <b>Vintersorg</b>'s work, is a perilous concoction of busy and loud. Audiophiles, be ye warned!<br />
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I've heard some additional complaints from the endless herd of bovid populating the internet that <i>Jordpuls</i>, <i>Orkan</i>, and now <i>Naturbål </i>(all based on different elements, remember?), don't sound any different from one another. To you I say - thou art dorks. If you can't hear the jovial nature of Nature in <i>Jordpuls</i>, then you obviously don't know what an earthpulse is and should read a book for once in your life. If the windswept melodies of <i>Orkan </i>don't conjure up lucid visions of gale and gust, then you've never left the drab cave in which you were so unfortunately born. From the frantic intensity of "Ur aska och sot" to the soft glow of "Själ i flamma," <i>Naturbål </i>bleeds Fire, and bleeds it well. If you need more Fire than that, go jump in a furnace.<br />
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<b>4.5/5.0</b><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Naturb</i></span><i style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">ål is out now on Napalm Records.</span></i></div>
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Doom. Crushing, unrelenting, pummeling doom. The groove, the fuzz, the down tuned emissions from that great and mysterious monolith. Pulsating waves of unforgiving acoustics echoing from ziggurat to ziggurat as per the mandates of whatever horrifying force resides in the Necropolis.</div>
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Welcome to the aftermath of the apocalypse.</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 19px;">"The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age." - </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 19px;">H.P. Lovecraft, </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 19px;">"The Call of Cthulhu"</i></blockquote>
That being said, there's some creepy shit out there. Like me. If you haven't been fed nightmares by my goblin shamans it means it's already too late for you. I don't have a lot of time to ponder, what with blazing the realms with a screaming horde astride great beasts with a thirst for blood. When I do, I think long and hard and deep. Like my bardiche in your chest cavity.<br />
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I can't help but think back to the darker realms of science fiction and fantasy when I find a crushing doom project. The hulking, silent coffin ships of the Necromongers or the steady, crushing charge of the Mûmakil. R'lyeh will rise to the smothering sonic wizardry of Doom. When Dagon or Nyarlathotep turn a world to cinders, all that will be left is blackness and a pentatonic scale on a bass guitar.<br />
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As a warmaster and battlemonger I, Trollson Cromcakes, can attest to effectiveness of crushing. Men, empires, dynasties, bones to make bread, I have crushed them all. Here is a track that is a close second to my mighty prowess.<br />
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Bongripper.<br />
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From miserable Chicago these doomsters have laid some of the most spacey and esoteric tracks to some of the most merciless doom riffs since Pangaea split. There is a lot of tongue-in-cheek in album concepts and even merchandise, but they take their tone seriously. I find a band that doesn't take themselves seriously to be an automatic win. Like in a who-has-a-bigger-penis contest between Masterlord SteelDragon and myself. Hint: Masterlord SteelDragon would lose. He would like to be a man, but he has too much bitch in him. Deep down inside his vagina he knows it.<br />
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I give to you as a harbinger of your destruction, the newest Bongripper track - Endless.<br />
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Behold the maw! The teeth and face of your demise!<br />
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The opening riff is simple and builds upon itself. Layer after layer. You feel like you've been laden with stones. At first you tell yourself that your pathetic mortal frame can tolerate the pressure or weight. 1 minute 20 seconds in and the drums kick in like hammers to your soul. 1:45 - the layers of riffage supreme start to put the strain on your tendons and you sink lower and lower as the earths gravity increases, like it's being sucked into a dying sun.<br />
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If you aren't head banging by 3 minutes you have no place amongst us. You are fodder. Carrion fit for the bellies of crows.<br />
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5 minutes in and a few variations have been thrown in. The battle trance you've entered into has by now steeled your nerves and readied your bones for the impact of the enemy's lines.<br />
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6:10 - a small amount of force has elevated the rhythm. The walls are coming down. The great tower has been breached. There shall be no quarter.<br />
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8 minutes! Your constitution or lack of brain activity has lead you this far! Finally a break! The stars are still and the event horizon has given way to a bridge of heavenly colors. Could it be that we've weathered the storm? We might survive!<br />
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10:22 - We're not going to make it. The worm hole has opened and the behemoth hive mother has warped in. The great sea beast has breached and whatever is left of your once great dreadnought will serve as kindling for the foul things at the bottom of the sea. (Yes, they need fire. Don't question it.)<br />
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When I make it to Furya or Helion Prime at the head of my legions, after sweeping their defenses in a single night, I will exit my fortress and march through the ranks. As my mighty battle cruisers bow in homage and my great army kneels before my victory march, this song will be poured through the streets of the conquered.<br />
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I actually find this song quite relaxing. This is a good come-down after a workout. I'm enjoying it after a deadlifting competition with a fellow weight lifter. He was dispatched hastily of course. Honorable, but no match for me. This song is my reward and my reminder that the search for strength and foes to test that strength is as the title says...<br />
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Endless.</div>
Trollson Cromcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02902695946667701545noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-263287909583389523.post-26357394740108291672014-07-03T16:15:00.002-07:002014-07-07T14:17:35.248-07:00Under the Covers: Black Sabbath<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Welcome to the first installment of "Under the Covers!" To the slew of obviously unsatisfied women who approached me under the assumption that this was a column in which Masterlord SteelDragon would divulge his mysterious and arcane love-making secrets, you have my sincerest steel apologies. I'm actually going to be talking about song covers, but that doesn't mean this can't be a sensual experience. Relax, and let's get started.<br />
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Before I get any further, let me just say this: I have a deep respect and love for High Riffmaster Tony Iommi and his stupid ass shade-glasses. That being said, there is something I love far, far greater than he. That is crushing my opposition underfoot and quelling the defiant. Our other author's affection for <b>Black Sabbath </b>(read as: fanboyism) may very well be unrivaled by all except Douchelord Osbourne himself. For this reason I have resolved to devote this segment to disparaging them. Here are three <b>Black Sabbath</b> covers that are better than their original counterparts. Enjoy or despair.<br />
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<u>1. Ulver - Solitude</u></center>
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By 1998, after recording two undisputed classics in <i>Bergtatt </i>and <i>Nattens madrigal</i>, <b>Ulver </b>decided they were kinda bored with pioneering black metal and roamed robe-clad into uncharted ambient realms. Their take on "Solitude" fits right in on their excellent 2007 release, <i>Shadows of the Sun</i>. <b>Ulver</b>'s<b> </b>mastery of dense atmosphere manages to evoke a level of forlorn hopelessness that <b>Black Sabbath</b> couldn't achieve. The decision to swap out the flute in favor of saxophone was a nice touch; it flourishes dream-like over the ambiance. Kristoffer Rygg's layered, reverb-drenched vocals echo over the desolate soundscape and are a welcome change from Ozzy's insufferable crowing. What? Shut up, he's annoying. The dude sounds less like a heartbroken man singing an ode to loneliness and more like an old lady with Alzheimer's who just can't remember where she put the tapes of her favorite programs. "Everything I possessed - now they are gone!"</div>
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<u>2. Havok - Children of the Grave</u></center>
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Face it, these lyrics are bad. They're dumber than all the haircuts in the FIFA World Cup combined. Lyrics this bad belong in one of two places: the secret diary of a low I.Q. sixth-grade flower child, or thrash metal. The light-hearted stylings of <b>Havok </b>provide the appropriate environment for such poetry, while Ozzy "take-myself-super-seriously" Osbourne makes it sound contrived. Yes, that's his real middle name.<br />
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<u>3.Týr - I</u></center>
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Ok, this one is cheating because it's not actually better than the original. Why? Because the original was sung by Ronnie James Dio, whose involvement makes it unequivocally metal by default. It's like the Midas touch, except instead of gold, everything touched by his mighty metal hand turned into glorious shining steel. Still, this version holds it own. The harmonies added to the chorus only supplement its majesty and power. Plus, there's something about a leather-clad Viking belting "I'LL SMASH YOUR FACE IN, BUT WITH A SMILE" that makes me really believe him. </div>
Masterlord SteelDragonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818449025588004254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-263287909583389523.post-81512955700474147552014-06-30T22:18:00.001-07:002014-07-07T14:19:15.537-07:00Kings Among Sheep<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Apparently I am to be pardoned for my crimes against the crown. I would have responded sooner but I was preoccupied LAUGHING AT YOUR FOUR WINDS! You think to govern me?! <a href="https://www.blogger.com/profile/06818449025588004254">Some young whelp</a> had better rethink his strategy before I feed his muffin topped women to the gaping maw of Shai Hulud.<br />
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Some milk drinkers think themselves King, others like myself have donned the title of Conqueror by winning it through glorious combat. Others have earned their place doing thus.</div>
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Herein rules such a king.</div>
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<b>King of Asgard</b>.</div>
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And this king is to bless us once again with an acoustic bludgeoning with the upcoming release of <i>Karg</i>.<br />
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Prepare to drop to your knees and beg to be purified.</div>
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This mighty horde of <b>Einherjar</b> charged into the world of metal with their debut <i>Fi'mbulvintr</i> in August of 2010. Founding member <b>Karl Beckman</b> had shred and pillaged his way into our ice-covered hearts with the skin-smith <b>Karsten Larsson</b>, building on the mighty foundation they once laid together in the legendary group <b>Mithotyn</b>.</div>
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If you know your Viking-influenced metal, you will have raised a frothy horn to the heavens on hearing the name of <b>Mithotyn</b>. If you haven't, feel free to throw yourselves upon the thorny altar of guilt-ridden bone sorrow. Of despair. (<a href="http://burningsteeldragonbrotherhood.blogspot.com/2014/06/metal-beginners-guide-to-making-metal.html">See making metal song titles</a>)</div>
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Though laden with <b>Mithotyn</b>-ic sound, Karl adds a more ferocious approach, like covering a mighty steed with layers and layers of innards-covered blades. <i>Fi'mbulvintr</i> and the their 2012 release<i> ...To North</i> are some of my favorite releases of this decade. The guitars are as sharp and clean as a bearded ax with folk influenced melodies as well as some of my favorite and creative chord progressions to date. The melodies <b>Falconer</b> took from their <b>Mithotyn</b> days are good, but its warrior spirit and ferocity of are held firmly in the gauntlet of <b>King of Asgard</b>.</div>
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Some have compared them to <b>Amon Amarth</b>, but these are fools, useful only as meat shields for the volley of arrows and lances. Lyrical themes have similarities, but this is <b>Karl Beckman</b>, and few can match his prowess with the axe. I daresay <b>Karl Beckman</b> is to Viking metal/folk metal as Tony Iommi is to doom metal. </div>
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<b>King of Asgard</b>'s previous albums have hit clean and hard with the ease of a hot sword carving through snow, but from what I've heard of their next album, we won't be surviving. They have beefed up their sound and the guitars are as thick as the shields found on the Gokstad ship. If <i>Fi'mbulvintr</i> and<i> ...To North</i> were axe strikes, <i>Karg</i> is going to be a shield bash.</div>
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May Crom strike you dead if you fail to heed His metal servants. There are many claims to the throne, but only one can claim the seat of the Allfather himself.</div>
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Trollson Cromcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02902695946667701545noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-263287909583389523.post-47055814659133714132014-06-28T21:49:00.000-07:002014-07-07T14:23:16.134-07:00Metal Beginner's Guide to Making Metal Song Names Metal (with Examples)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Like <strike>most</strike> all things in life (except food and maybe pillows if you're a bitch), you want your song titles to be as metal as possible. While there are a few ways to go about this, the first step is typically the same:<br />
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<b>Use some words that are metal.</b> Some words and ideas are metal, others are not metal. Some are obvious, some are more ambiguous. We will not discuss in detail what makes a word metal. It sufficeth to say only this: that the true of heart can feel it deep within their loins. Can't feel it deep within your loins? Do not despair, for not all are chosen to be born as we were, with heart and loins clad in burning steel. Dr. Bruce Dickinson performed a C-section on my mother with a rapier and no anesthesia, and I know for a fact that the birth of our resident folk-metal enthusiast Trollson Cromcakes went a lot like that part in Game of Thrones where that weird shadow assassin squeezed itself out of Melisandre's birth canal. If your delivery was humdrum and mundane as the rest of your existence, fear not! Even normal birth is still pretty metal. There's a lot of blood.<br />
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Once you have an adequately metal word, you can<b> stop there and use it as the completed title, </b>or you can <b>think of additional words and put them all together. </b>Metal words in a song title are a lot like mutton in your hopefully bearded face; the more you can cram in there, the better.<br />
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The adventurous among you may want to take it a step further by <b>removing the spaces. </b>There are certain situations in which spaces are not very metal.<br />
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Those reaching for the far-flung pinnacle of wordcombination may even find the gallantry within to <b>conjoin three</b>...<br />
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Another option is to <b>use your chosen words to craft an actual sentence. </b>This pedestrian approach is not generally recommended. But if you must, know this: in the realm of metal you are not obligated to craft a coherent phrase. Incomprehensibility is metal.<br />
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Still having trouble? Do not fear, mortal! This is something even unread peasants and most rappers are capable of: <b>make up your own words</b>.<br />
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See, that word means nothing. But it oozes metal. Actually, I think that's the first thing my dear grandmother said to me after her ischemic stroke.</div>
Masterlord SteelDragonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818449025588004254noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-263287909583389523.post-8626866462165559992014-06-27T16:23:00.001-07:002014-07-07T14:26:27.441-07:00A Gruesome Recommendation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Be it known that despite <a href="http://burningsteeldragonbrotherhood.blogspot.com/2014/06/i-trollson-cromcakes-hereby-commence.html" target="_blank">futile attempts to supplant</a>, Masterlord SteelDragon holds sway of the Burning SteelDragon Brotherhood of Burning DragonSteel<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: x-small; line-height: 22.399999618530273px;">™</span><span style="line-height: 22.399999618530273px;">. Notwithstanding, </span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/profile/02902695946667701545" style="line-height: 22.399999618530273px;" target="_blank">the accused</a><span style="line-height: 22.399999618530273px;"> is hereby absolved of his sins by virtue of both the density of his beard and his admirable efforts to draw the Metal from the dry teet of a plebeian children's book. That being said, further confusion will result in certain death. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 22.399999618530273px;">Speaking of death, do you like <b>Death</b>?<b> </b>If you answered no, kindly remove yourself from this esteemed blog and then the entire planet. If you answered yes then congratulations. You've earned your keep. <b>Death </b>rules. But this post isn't really about <b>Death</b>. It's about <b>Gruesome</b>, a band that sounds like <b>Death</b>.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><b style="line-height: 22.399999618530273px;">Exhumed</b><span style="line-height: 22.399999618530273px;"> vocalist/guitarist Matt Harvey, ex-</span><b style="line-height: 22.399999618530273px;">Malevolent Creation </b><span style="line-height: 22.399999618530273px;">drummer Gus Rios (recently fired by his doltish/apparently homophobic band mates),<b> Possessed </b>guitarist Daniel Gonzalez,<b> </b>and bassist Robin Mazen of </span></span><span style="line-height: 22.399999618530273px;"><b>Derkéta</b> have gathered together this day to worship the Old Gods of death metal. If you happen to like any of the aforementioned bands, which you should unless you suffer from severe hearing loss due to a perforated tympanic membrane, you are hereby advised to check out <b>Gruesome</b>. Furthermore, if you suffer from severe hearing loss due to a perforated tympanic membrane, seek medical help immediately. Because you might experience blood or pus drainage from the ear. Which is actually more metal than you.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 22.399999618530273px;">Matt Harvey's feral snarling has been focused into filth-ridden groaning and howling about blood, guts and all things gruesome. Muddy tremolos and frantic drumming churn together into a froth of metal slop reminiscent of your gross blood-pus, which we discussed. Slower, heavier riffs burst through the spume-layer just to uppercut you with the primitive cudgel of </span><b style="line-height: 22.399999618530273px;">Death</b><span style="line-height: 22.399999618530273px;"> and leave you alone in the muck. Naked. No, it's nothing new</span><i style="line-height: 22.399999618530273px;">. </i><span style="line-height: 22.399999618530273px;">But it </span><i style="line-height: 22.399999618530273px;">is</i><span style="line-height: 22.399999618530273px;"> something old done the right way. One who often finds themselves missing the gory days (HA!) of death metal might want to check it out. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b style="line-height: 22.399999618530273px;">Gruesome</b><span style="line-height: 22.399999618530273px;"> recently signed with Relapse Records and their debut is set for release in early 2015. Until then, you can buy two killer demo tracks on their </span><a href="http://gruesomedeathmetal.bandcamp.com/" style="line-height: 22.399999618530273px;" target="_blank">Bandcamp</a><span style="line-height: 22.399999618530273px;"> for the price of your choosing (yes, even $0.00 you dick). Did I pay for them, you ask? That's none of your business because you don't know my situation. What if Masterlord SteelDragon just got shitcanned from his exceedingly metal occupation: packaging and shipping trinkets and souvenirs (of steel)? Leave me alone. Just go listen to <b>Gruesome</b>. As their lyrics say... "Death lies waiting just beyond."</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 22.399999618530273px;"><iframe seamless="" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/track=129122769/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=0687f5/tracklist=false/artwork=small/transparent=true/" style="border: 0; height: 120px; width: 100%;"><a href="http://gruesomedeathmetal.bandcamp.com/track/savage-land">Savage Land by Gruesome</a></iframe></span></div>
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Masterlord SteelDragonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818449025588004254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-263287909583389523.post-67864365573509225942014-06-27T09:42:00.000-07:002014-07-07T14:33:45.790-07:00Defilers and Usurpers Curse Them<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;">I, Trollson Cromcakes, hereby commence the debauchery of the Burning SteelDragon Brotherhood of Burning DragonSteel and usurp command of the 7 Kingdoms and the staves of the 5 Istari.</span><br />
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Look Upon My Works Ye Mighty And Despair.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;">I'm going to ramble and rant about shit that I enjoy. Herein lies such a shit.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;">Behold the Troll Romp.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">One of the </span><span style="line-height: 20px;">definitions</span><span style="line-height: 20px;"> of "romp" can be found in <i>Webster's New World College Dictionary 4th ed.</i> by Wiley publishing 2004 as "</span><span style="line-height: 20px;">boisterous</span><span style="line-height: 20px;">, lively play, or frolic." A similar word, "rumpus", may also be applied as a synonym meaning "a boisterous upstart or commotion."</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">The use of the phrase "rumpus" was first experienced in my childhood through a favorite children's book under the name of <i>Where the Wild Things Are.</i> Written by Maurice Sendak in 1963, it won the Caldecott Medal in 1964. While it may seem like a fun "childhood invention," (wtf?) critics have even gone so far as to </span><span style="line-height: 20px;">interpret</span><span style="line-height: 20px;"> it as "one of the very few picture books to make an entirely deliberate, and beautiful, use of the psychoanalytic story of anger." This anger is clearly channeled and exhausted with the memorable phrase "Let the wild rumpus start!" as soon after the rumpus the boy grows tired and returns home. The rumpus (or romp) can be seen as a way to channel anger and stress, stop being so fat, have fun, or just lose yourself for a few moments. You may actually get lost. We may leave you to die.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;" /><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">I can only write about what I know. Let's be honest, I don't know much. Much knowing is beyond my ability to... have? Family trip. We had gone to eat or see a movie and returned home after dark. To our dismay we were locked outside. To add to the conflagration the sky started to LITERALLY PISS ON US. So the vote was to go through a window. However, I enjoy piss-play and decided to venture out into the backyard, surrounded by thick bushes, overshadowed by an old, large willow tree, and protected by horse kennels. Horse kennels as protectors, because those horses want your blood. I had <b>Finntroll</b> on the brain and some sort of caffeine in the veins (probably meth) so I decided to unleash my inner beast and flail around in the rain and the mud and the growth in sight of pissing clouds and my ancestors. If you've ever seen the mating ritual from George of the Jungle you have the building blocks of what I do when I'm alone (or not alone).</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">Fast forward many many years and I'm a bit fatter with some facial hair a.k.a. "a bitching warrior beard."<b> Finntroll</b> finally arrives in a nearby city. I put on the kilt and paint my face. I knew I would be the coolest guy there but to make sure I wore my beat up <b>Falkenbach</b> t-shirt so all the fat metal chicks would know that I was the trvest. The party started when the bagpiper (or <i>dudelsak-er</i> for you Duetsch) for </span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 20px;"><b>Metsatöll</b> keep thrusting his crotch near my head area and the singer for <b>Blackguard</b> anointed my scalp with his mighty metal grip. Crom Almighty, what a night! <b>Finntroll </b>came on and I stomped and flailed and flashed (kilt... remember?) until I couldn't move my neck and my bulging quadriceps could take no more.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">It was the funnest most bestest concert I've ever had. Kids, romp. Turn on the polka metal and let your inner Wilding run free. It's the closest thing I've had to a honeymoon.</span></span></span><br />
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</span></span>Trollson Cromcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02902695946667701545noreply@blogger.com0