Thunderfist - S/T

Ok, where to start with this one?!

First off, I gotta say something about that cover.  I mean, come on!  If that ugly beast with the fingerless leather gloves isn't a nuclear explosion of face-erupting rock fury I don't know what is.  It's so awesomely ridiculous that I had no choice.  Must-put-CD-into-player.  Consider that a successful, subversive mission.  Cover art that is so awesome it demands I play the CD.

Now for the music.

Maybe it's because there was the famous mad skin banger back in the glory days of Samson (and Iron Maiden at one point too) named Thunderstick.  And maybe it's because there was a primo NWOBHM band named Fist who released some killer, thrashing metal back in the day.  Maybe its because the obvious combination of these two names would be Thunderfist, that I had all kinds of preconceived notions that what awaited me was gonna be a hell-unleashed fury of NWOBHM-tinged, explosive rock and roll mayhem.  Check.  Consider that another successful, subversive mission.  Name equals music.  Thunder and Fist!

Thunderfist are all that and more.  Raw and primal and full of spit and semen and scorn, the five crazies who compose the band churn out sleaze and slippery, uncut gunmetal rock with unfettered abandon. And damn, do they do it good!

Guitars wail and riff and destroy all land-based creatures in their path.  Drums harken the holocaust.  Bass vibrates the clothing off young women.   And throughout the whole mayhem, Jeremy Cardenas gasps and wails and screams and pulverizes any poor sap in his wake.  This is the unruly spawn of Motorhead in a love-oil fest with AC/DC in the NWOBHM pleasure tent of Motley Crue.  And the Crue reference here is only in the amount of my-own-dick loving sleaze that goes on here, not the music. Because, quite frankly, I'd listen to the real as fuck rock of Thunderfist over the cartoon hijinks of Motley Crue anyday.

Seems the Thunderfist crew have been at it for a while with a couple of other albums to their name, produced by legendary Jack Endino. Which makes sense.  I hear these guys and I think of other Endino creations like Dirty Power.   Pure, unadulterated, primitive rock.   The guys come from Salt Lake City, hardly the bastion of sperm-fest rock, but the boys insure us that none of them are married to their sisters and I suspect their middle-fingers are raised so often up the butts of the ruling Mormon elite that they gotta wear splints to prevent ligament damage.   Seems the boys like nothing more than riding motorcycles, fixing cars and beating the shit outta rednecks, then providing them with drugs.

Yep, that sounds about right.

What we got here are 8 original songs of neanderthal post-NWOBHM metal, and a couple of covers, including "None of Your Business"originally by the Streetwalkin' Cheetahs.  But the boys definitely take that one over, pounding out a primal-punk, metal swear-fest.   As for the original, hold onto your jockstrap coach, cause these misplaced Utah rockers are a terror.  "Cut and Run" is pure Lemmy-is-God, post Motorhead madness with supercharged tempo and mind-crushing riffs.  Man, that chorus is pure gold, with the backing vocals cutting in amongst the blitzing guitars.  A super, rifftastic song.

"Hit the Bottle Again" kicks off with the type of riff that I ate for lunch when the NWOBHM was fresh.  Rolling ascending, then descending runs of guitar madness.   Ride that E for a while then tear into the "All fucked up, all fucked up tonight" hook.  Yes!  Hit the bottle again amid a raging chorus that spits out like a lost treasure from some pre-historic metal album.  "Don't Get it For Free" again screams NWOBHM to me.  Maybe the real Fist this time, or the early killer Def Leppard stuff like "Rocks Off"  You know, back when Leppard used to be a real band.  I don't know.  Everything sounds kinda familiar to me, but all amped up and definitely made their own.  Thunderfist don't sound like anybody but a bunch of guys who love the fuck outta rock n roll.

And they do the whole thing with enough humor to reveal how much fun their having.  They named their record label, ECG Records, for El Chango Grande.  Why you may ask?  Because bandmate Jeremy looks like a big monkey when he performs.  And, yes, El Chango Grande means big monkey.  They keep that humor running through their music with such classics as "Eskimo Pussy is Mighty Cold" with it's soon-to-be legendary refrain "I don't know what I've been told, Eskimo pussy is might cold.  It's cold in here!"

There's not a weak cut here. (except for their cover of Eric Carmen's "That's Rock and Roll" - which in their defense isn't a bad cover, it's just that I'd much rather hear more of their own material).  From the epic doom majesty of "The Wizard's Lament" to the AC/DC Bon's-back-from-the-dead blitz of "As Good as it Gets" this is gunbarrel-shove-the-cattle-prod-up-the-religious-wankers-ass metal done right.

And I can guarantee you this baby will reappear in my Top Ten list for the year.  It's way too much fun not to.

--Racer

My First Album - Def Leppard - Pyromania

In the early 80’s, as well as most of the 70’s, I was a sheltered child.

I discovered rock n’ roll through a neighborhood buddy whipping out his older sister’s Kiss collection and being stunned by the images of spacemen and demons, and the sounds that subsequently rattled around my brain. They were so savage! So aggressive! So filled with testosterone that my five or six year old self could hardly contain himself.

As soon as my Mom caught wind that I was listening to the devil’s music, well . . . that was enough of that! I was already enrolled in a strict Christian school that abhorred music and dancing, and really, I believe the characters from Footloose were based on my upbringing.

Fast forward to 1983-ish, and I’m around 11 or 12 years old and I’ve made friends with an older school chum who reveled in the music of the Beatles, The Police, Devo and who turned me on to Mtv. That was really the last day of any semblance of innocence that I had. There was Michael Jackson dancing with zombies, Prince struttin’ his stuff and singing about a little red Corvette, Van Halen figuring that it was just better to jump. Wow! What was this new, colorful, exotic and sometimes erotic channel filled with music?!? And then my world collapsed into light . . . and I saw for the very first time . . . a hooded figure speaking some gibberish before the explosive concussion of drums rattled my little television set on its stand. Def Leppard. “Rock of Ages”.

I had to have that album! So . . . I scraped up enough money to send a friend on what I considered a suicide mission. A girl from up the street mentioned that she was going to the record store, so I gave here my hard salvaged cash, probably about $10 . . . enough for the cassette tape and some left over for risking life and limb to get me my contraband. I paced up and down the hallway, every third circuit I’d peek out the window to see if the friends’ family car was back in the driveway. Pure torture, but I knew . . . I knew that the glorious sounds of this wee British band were soon to be mine . . . ALL MINE!!!

And once said friend arrived with said cassette tape, I didn’t simply tear the shrink-wrap off of the case. I basked in the glow of the damn thing and gingerly peeled the cellophane from the cases exterior. I relished every second of that moment . . . my first album that I purchased with my own hard, er . . . well, I didn’t really earn the cash so much as I found coins littered here and there around my house. I pulled the cassette from the case, removed the J-card to review the liner notes, and insert the cassette into a portable tape player that my Mom used for recording lectures.

I can’t remember the details of the next eight hours, but suffice it to say, I listened to a lot of Def Leppard. Loved “Foolin’”, “Rock of Ages”, “Rock Rock (‘til You Drop)” and “Too Late For Love”, songs that would soon be staples of my pre-teen day to day . . . always hated “Photograph” (song just bugged me then as much as it does now). And, though now, I can’t listen to that Pyromania without wanting to retch, it was important on so many levels. It introduced me to Def Leppard, which if you started with the band during the Adrenalize or Hysteria era’s, I pity you. Pyromania led to High and Dry, and then that led to other like music such as Motley Crue, Ratt, Dokken, Twisted Sister, Quiet Riot . . . you know, all the music that’s reviled today. But then that led to Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Dio, Motorhead, Queensryche, and more . . . which then led to the Big 4 (kinda freaky to think it was only 2 years from Def Leppard to Big 4), then the underground, then back above ground, and ultimately to The Ripple Effect and Ripple Music.

Youthful rebellion led me to follow the rock n’ roll path and one that I constantly find fascinating today. This musical journey of discovery isn’t simply moving forward. It’s kinda’ like time traveling a little, stumbling on a cool piece of music history from my childhood or before, and no matter when I discover it or from what year it came, it’s always fresh and new!

The lone regret I have is that I don’t have the original copy of Pyromania that I fretted over so much on that one day so long, long ago . . . coz’ man, that would be cool to see again. Kinda’ like seeing an old friend again.

-          --Pope JTE

Big Truck Keeps on Rollin'! Ripple Music is Proud to Announce the Signing and Debut Album from Ireland's Trucker Diablo

The folks at the 2011 Download Festival felt it.  Fans who saw them opening for Black Stone Cherry felt it.  The lucky masses who'll be at Hammerfest 2012 are about to feel it.  Soon everyone will know the band that Def Leppard's Joe Elliot has called "absolutely awesome stuff!"

Ripple Music, the home of authentic, retro rock and metal, is proud to announce the signing of Northern Ireland’s most explosive rock n’ roll import, Trucker Diablo!   After blowing away the crowds from the stages of 2011’s Download Festival, this Irish four-piece grabbed the attention of the U.S. rock label Ripple Music and immediately began working on plans to get the music heard around the world. The Devil Rhythm is a 40-plus minute thrill ride of rock n’ roll album that will have every head banging to the heavy groove and rocking to its muscular riffs and adrenaline.

Having formed in 2008, Trucker Diablo quickly garnered the adoration of some of rock n' roll's biggest names, including Joe Elliott (Def Leppard), Cormac Neeson (The Answer), Dee Snider (Twisted Sister), and Ricky Warwick (Thin Lizzy, The Almighty), who also makes a guest appearance on the Trucker track “Juggernaut”.

And now Ripple Music will be bringing the Big Truck right to your door!  The Devil Rhythm will be released in the U.S. on January 3rd, and in the UK and Europe on February 6th. Available in all fine record stores, eBay, Amazon, CD Baby and at the Ripple Music home.  Check out the debut video "Drink Beer, Destroy" and catch the early buzz of a band sure to have people talking in 2012.

Lock up your daughters and hide your wives, cause when the big Truck rolls into town, high -octane rock mayhem will be sure to follow!

www.ripple-music.com

The press raves:

"The Devil Rhythm is an exceptional effort!.  This album will undoubtedly satisfy both new-generation hard-rock fans and old-school rockers alike.  Joe Elliot of Def Leppard described Trucker Diablo as "Absolutely Awesome Stuff" and I couldn't agree more." -- Road Rage Metal Mag

"The Devil Rhythm is a fantastic first album from Trucker Diablo. Ten furious paced, no messing rock ‘n’ roll tracks that sound more like an established artists greatest hits and not a new bands debut album. Opening songs "Drink Beer Destroy", "Juggernaught" and "Big Truck" crash on your ear drums and continuously beat you into submission; overpowering you with every riff and selling themselves as the saviors of hard rock in Ireland. But it doesn’t end there!  It’s time for the public to stand up and take notice of what could potentially be one of the most successful rock bands to emerge from the North since Therapy." -- Goldenplec

"In 25 words or less: “This band needs to be heard, so listen, share, talk, tell everyone about Trucker Diablo…” -- May the Rock Be with You

The Devil Rhythm is now available at the Ripple Music Store and world-wide through Clearspot International in Europe and Code 7 Distribution in the UK on February 6th, 2012. 


 

Quartz - Stand Up and Fight

Back in high school, Brett and I were brothers in arms.  Rock and roll arms that is.  A tad more seasoned than I was, Brett burst my musical cherry by taking me to my first big-time rock concert; AC/DC, Cheap Trick, Ted Nugent, Blue Oyster Cult, and Boston.  Or was it Journey headlining?  Hell, with all the acrid smoke wafting in and around my virginal nostrils that day, I’ll never remember. 

But I do know that Brett also introduced me to the endless hours of joy that became known as the bargain bin dig, and opened up my ears to crazy new sounds in metal, like UFO.  Influential in my life, hell yeah!  It’s safe to say that The Ripple Effect would not exist in many ways, if not for Brett.  A while back I wrote of “big brother” Danny shaping my musical childhood, well Brett was responsible for my much louder heavy metal adolescence.

And with a brother like that in the late seventies to early eighties, you better believe we launched headlong into the NWOBHM and launched hard.   Seemed like we were on a quest to constantly outdo each other, being the first to turn the other guy onto a new band.  For every Tygers of Pan Tang, Girl School, Bitches Sin, Praying Mantis and Witchfynde that Brett found, I pulled out an Iron Maiden, Def Leppard, Saxon, Vardis, and Motorhead.  He popped out an AIIZ and I whipped out an Angelwitch.  Wild Horses, Raven . . it didn’t matter.  We were there.

Then how in the hell did we miss Quartz?

Perhaps it was because Quartz were just a bit ahead of our time, their debut album being recorded in 1976 and 1977.  But that shouldn’t of mattered.  This rambunctious platter I now hold in my hot and steamy hands, Metal Mind's just released reissue of Quartz’s second album, Stand Up and Fight, was originally put out in 1980.  That was our time.  And further, Quartz were originally championed by Tony Iommi and his management group.  He produced their first album and Quartz Geoff Nicholls left the band to join Black Sabbath in 1979.  And we were definitely huge Sabbath fans.  So how this record escaped the attention of two pimply-faced, metal mad teenage boys with a ’66 Mustang remains a mystery never to be solved.

But thank God it’s been rectified, because Stand Up and Fight is one helluva blitzkrieg of riff-mad NWOBHM.  A molten cauldron of screaming guitar licks, trodding bass lines and bone-shattering drums.  An album chock-full of one pounding primal metal fest after another.  An album not to be missed.

Mike Taylor was a singer for the ages, with a voice gruff enough to stand out against all the fey pretty boys of the day, but still sweet enough to scale the heights and bring the passion to the songs.  The closest similarity I can find to his voice is Daryl Braithwaite from the latter Aussie band, The Sherbs; but that reference is probably too obscure, so let’s go with a husky Geddy Lee with a case of laryngitis.  Guitarist Mick Hopkins could shred and rip with the best of them, laying down wailing solos or tearing through grinding gears of riffs.   And the rhythm section of Malcom Cope and Derek Arnold were steadfast in their dedication to rock. 

And boy, could they rock.  Ignoring the sole misstep of “Can’t Say No To You,” a timid American-aimed rocker that sounds suspiciously like Foreigner's “Feels Like the First Time,” the rest of the album and the one extra bonus track “Circles” are the true essence of the NWOBHM. 

I’m not going to go into each track here, because I’m gonna run out of adjectives way to soon.  There’s just no way to sum up the raging riff drag race of “Charlie Snow" and it’s cocaine reference.  It’s impossible to describe the bullish metal assault of “Rock ‘n’ Roll Child,” or the angry power wrapped up in powerchords and wailing solos of “Revenge.”  I don’t have the words to lay down how I feel about the mad rockers, “Wildfire,” “Circles,” or “Stoking Up the Fires of Hell.”  Let’s just simply say that Stand Up and Fight is simply . . . simply fantastic.  Raw and primitive, riff-mad metal.   An album that absolutely shouldn’t be missed.

Brett, brother, have I got one for you!

--Racer

Buy here:  Stand Up & Fight

Fist – Turn the Hell On

Iron Maiden with Di’Anno or Iron Maiden with Bruce Dickinson?

That’s a debate Pope and I love to have, over and over, endlessly for the last 19 years.  Pope’s firmly in the Dickinson camp, and his reasons are sound. Dickinson had the pipes, the air raid siren vocal chords, and there’s no doubt he’s a great frontman.  Without Dickinson, Maiden never would have become, well . . . MAIDEN.

But that’s not what it’s about for me.  With Di’Anno, Maiden possessed something they lost the day Dickinson walked into the band room; something primal, something raw, something vital. Maiden’s first album, and the entire, early NWOBHM scene was around raw guts.  It was a D.I.Y. effort created entirely from passion.  The NWOBHM was heavy metal’s punk rock moment.  Their rebellion against the status quo.  It was metallers taking their records and distribution literally into their own hands.  Scores of bands pumping out furious, riff-maddened metal, on clumsy, self-manufactured, barely produced singles and tapes. Selling em by hand out on the streets.  It was bizarre guys having air guitar battles at sweaty, stink-filled underground metal clubs, and frothing at the mouth at the next band to emerge onto the scene.

And it didn’t last long.  NWOBHM started around 1979 and by 1981, certainly by 1982, the scene had already bowed down to the man, becoming a commercial megalith.  If you followed the music, you could feel the transition hit you like running into a brick wall.  There it is, right there, when Maiden switched to Dickinson, when the Tygers of Pan Tang switched to Deverill, when Def Leppard put out High N' Dry.  In each of their own ways, these moves heralded the death of the raw NWOBHM in favor of a slicker, more produced, more commercial sound.  Not that it was all bad mind you, just different.

And not my NWOBHM.  My metal was guts, baby.  Riffs flying at the speed of sound.  Technically, maybe not the best.  Vocals were strained.  Playing was primitive.  But passion.  God, the NWOBHM was about passion.

And to that effect, I offer you this brand new Metal Mind reissue of the debut album from long forgotten early NWOBHM hooligans, Fist.  Don’t go looking here for the refined polish of Number of the Beast-era Maiden.  Fist were plying their workingman’s trade way back when the scene began, releasing their first single on a Neat Records compilation tape way back in 1979.  Many times in Ripple reviews, Pope or I will write the words “we can’t understand why this band didn’t find a bigger audience.”  Not here.  Here, it’s beautifully clear why Fist were never commercially successful.  Their sound is barely finished, their playing sufficient, their singing rough.  And damn I wouldn’t have it any other way.   Raw, primal passion, baby, it’s all raw passion.

Remember this is the punk moment of metal, and Fist burst out of the gate with that flag flying high.  “Hole in the Wall Gang,” sums it all up perfectly.  Staggering, stuttering riffs married to a sledgehammer beat and walloping bass.  Their sound is familiar, certainly a product of the era.  Think a combination of early Praying Mantis with On Through the Night-era Def Leppard and you’ll get the feeling.  And if those names give you giddy chills, then Fist will too.

I was being a bit flippant when I said their playing was sufficient.  In truth, these cats could pump out a riff and a quick solo with the needed precision of their sound.  Sure, it’s not “Phantom of the Opera,” by Maiden, but it’s not supposed to be.  It’s tough and ballsy and would’ve got the yobs shouting with fist-clenched beer stein in the pubs.   Keith Satchield used the full range of his voice, like a young Joe Elliot, often straining his vocal chords beyond their comfort zone.  But I dig that.  I’m the guy that prefers Tino Troy’s vocals in Praying Mantis over the many singers who came later who could clearly sing better but lacked that “guts.” I’m the guy who prefers Di’Anno.  I dig Satchield.

“The Watcher,” is another perfect period rocker, a jaunty, thudding riff-fest, sounding even more Mantis-like this time, but with all their own style.  Fist knew how to write a song, their compositional strength is strong and they always know how to throw that chorus or bridge at you to hook you fast in your seat.  “Collision Course,” is a mid-tempo, near power ballad that actually rocks.  “Forever Amber,” chugs along with a Nugent intensity.  “Axeman,” is fierce and has such groove it’s downright sexy.  “Vamp” is a proto-Leppard rocker.  And the whole album is like that.  A perfect microcosm of all that I loved about the early NWOBHM movement.  Energy, melodies, riffs and hooks.  And the more I listen to this album the more I love it. 

Two bonus tracks tacked onto the end complete the package.  “Brain Damage,” and “Law of the Jungle,” and these tracks burn!  If anything, these tracks are heavier than most of the cuts on the album proper, and definitely fill the disc out. This was a great debut record, a lost NWOBHM classic, finding a band just brimming with promise.

Turn the Hell On won’t please all metal fans.  Heck, it may not even please all NWOBHM fans.  It’s ugly and has warts and flaws.  But if you’re like me, and see the Di’Anno Maiden as the true king of metal, then I expect you’ll find those blemishes on the Fist album to be just as beautiful as I do.


--Racer

Buy here: Turn The Hell On (Remastered)