AC/DC: Blow Up Your Video 1988

Every red-blooded American boy’s journey into Heavy Metal uber-fandom has to start somewhere. For this young lad, that starting place was none other than a hard rockin’ band of Aussie’s named AC/DC.

I cut my teeth on that shit.

If memory serves right, the first AC/DC cassette I ever bought was Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap. I bought it at an ACME grocery/department store in Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio. My mom would take my brother and I with her to go grocery shopping. I would beg her to let me break away and visit the music department. Once there, I would stare at the album covers, the illustrations, the wild, pointy logos — I could only imagine what the music inside must sound like.

Wasting time in the music store was one of the few things in my childhood that I truly loved. I would keep lists of cassettes that I wanted to buy. AC/DC, Iron Maiden, Pink Floyd, Def Leppard, all made the cut. However, once I purchased Dirty Deeds, all those other bands had to take a backseat. I had found my favorite band. The best part was, by that time AC/DC were already over ten years into their career and had amassed an impressive back catalog for me to discover. Let There Be Rock, Powerage, Highway to Hell, Back in Black, all awaiting my anxious discovery. It didn’t take long for me to get caught up. That was what was so special about the release of Blow Up Your Video. It was going to be the first new AC/DC album that I ever bought. I couldn’t wait.

Blow Up Your Video really gets slagged by AC/DC and hard rock fans on the internet. That always shocks me. How could these trolls not be hearing what I hear? The most common complaint is that the album has too much filler. I disagree. I think every track is a winner and certainly as a whole, the album is more consistent than much of the Brian Johnson era output, with the obvious exception of Back in Black. Even today, I would argue that Blow Up Your Video is that last truly great AC/DC album.

The album kicks off with the lead single and modest hit, Heatseeker. I can remember the t-shirts for this song in the record stores back then, they depicted Angus Young straddling a giant missile with all the phallic subtlety of a hog dog going into a doughnut. The second track and single is an old school AC/DC foot stomper called, That's the Way I Wanna Rock 'n' Roll. It’s in this song that AC/DC proclaims their desire to “blow-up” MTV and the music video culture that had transformed the record industry in the eighties. AC/DC wanted their rock-n-roll simple and to the point — free from the image obsessed trends that MTV and record labels had cultivated. Meanstreak follows, and is a nifty, bluesy, number that suits Brian Johnson’s nicotine ravaged pipes nicely. In fact, it should be noted, that this is probably Brian Johnson’s last truly great vocal performance to be entered into AC/DC’s catalog before his voice finally succumbed to years of abuse. Kissin’ Dynamite is one of my favorite tracks. It has a dark, nihilistic feel, which is unique for a band whose music is typically upbeat. Some Sin for Nuthin’ shares a similarly dark vibe, but is more bluesy in nature. Two’s Up has an epic feel and fits nicely on the later half of the album. The albums closer, This Means War is as close to speed metal that AC/DC will ever get. It is a relentlessly upbeat track that features a sick riff that sounds like a combination of Highway to Hell’s Beatin’ Around the Bush and The Razors Edge’s Thunderstruck.

Top to bottom Blow Up Your Video is classic AC/DC. The choruses are well written and avoid the hard rock cliché of simply repeating the title of the song four times. Angus’s leads are standard issue Angus, but seem to feature more pinch harmonics than usual — think Billy Gibbons of ZZTop. As the first “new” AC/DC album I ever bought back in 1988, it exceeded my expectations and got me through many trips to and from school on my Walkman. For me, this record really cemented AC/DC into “favorite band” status.

As a pre-teen, I can remember actually asking my mom if she cared that I listened to, and had purchased a copy of Highway to Hell. She didn’t. I knew that AC/DC’s music was questionable listening for a young person like myself at the time. I suppose I was looking for some affirmation or perhaps even permission to pursue my love-affair with AC/DC. With a mother’s permission granted, I dove head-first into the sweaty, beer-soaked waters of AC/DC. Maybe I’m not qualified to write an objective AC/DC review. If it helps my credibility any, I felt that 2001’s Stiff Upper Lip and 1995’s Ballbreaker each had a handful of sub-par tracks. But Hell, I’d rather listen to a shitty AC/DC track than the best song Nickleback ever wrote. Blow Up Your Video rocks. Fuck you, internet h8trs. 9/10

Guns-n-Roses: “The Spaghetti Incident?” 1993

I am alone in my love for this album.

After the bloated self-masturbatory slab of egomaniacal cheese that was Use Your Illusion I & II,  1993’s The Spaghetti Incident? felt like a return to form for the once untouchable G’n Fuckin’R. As the first post-Nirvana Guns-n-Roses album, The Spaghetti Incident? was born during the height of the grunge rock movement — a movement that rejected everything the eighties stood for; greed, fashion, excess, blind consumerism, Reagan-era nationalism and top-down economics. In some respects, I think the album was an unsuspecting victim of the era in which it was released. Guns-n-Roses — a band of street trash that hit the big time — went from being the only band that mattered in the late eighties to being poster-children for corporate excess and conceited rock star arrogance. Much of this was their own doing (or more specifically, Axl Rose’s). Ill-advised MTV mini-movie music videos for November Rain and Estranged were beyond ridiculous and not befitting a snot-nosed, drug-addled L.A. rock band.  The videos took the edge off of GnR’s bad ass-ery and transformed them to uber-rich, elitist, Hollywood celebrities. Fans who longed for the Appetite for Destruction GnR, now had to endure daily tabloid headlines and narcissistic music videos detailing the rollercoaster relationship between Axl Rose and supermodel, Stephanie Seymour.

In short, GnR became Keeping Up with the Kardashians.

It’s no wonder Generation X jumped ship and bought Nevermind.

The Spaghetti Incident? is a covers album comprised mostly of punk songs. This might seem like an odd choice to the often narrow-minded GnR metal-head fan base, but the punk format stripped GnR back down to its essence, and the band is better for it. Gone are the excessive orchestrations and indulgent arrangements that plagued Use Your Illusion I & II. Instead the band wisely embraces their punk rock influences and cover songs by the likes of The Dead Boys. The Damned, and New York Dolls.  The result is a re-energized Guns-n-Roses reminiscent of the early Live! Like a Suicide era of the band.

The lead vocals on The Spaghetti Incident? are often split between Axl Rose and Duff Mckagan. They even share lead vocals on The Stooges classic, Raw Power. Their cover of U.K. Subs, Down on the Farm is loaded with attitude and is equally hilarious as Axl adopts a phony British accent. The best track on the album is a cover of The Damned’s Ain’t It Fun. The song just feels epic and Slash shines on lead guitar. Other stand-out covers include The Misfits (Attitude), The Professionals (Black Leather), and even 70’s radio rock staple, Hair of the Dog by Nazareth. There is also an excellent but controversial cover of Charles Manson’s Look at Your Game Girl.

The Spaghetti Incident? is Guns-n-Roses last effort before Axl went completely bat-shit crazy and fired the whole band to embark on a seventeen year journey into the depths of naval-gazing self-importance that would ultimately and eventually result in the commercial bomb that is Chinese Democracy. It’s unfortunate because what should have happened, had the rock-n-roll stars aligned, is that GnR would have rediscovered their hard rock roots as a result of The Spaghetti Incident? and went on to make Use Your Appetite for Destruction II & III. 8.5/10

Death Angel: Act III 1990

This album is criminally underrated.

The third record by California thrash band, Death Angel, is aptly titled Act III.  It is a stunning effort and represents tremendous growth for the band in every way — song writing, performance, lyrics, and musical diversity — from their previous two releases, 1988’s Frolic Through the Park and 1987’s The Ultra-Violence. Standout cuts like Why You Do This and Bored off of Frolic Through the Park hint at what was to come, but even the most enthusiastic Death Angel fan could not have anticipated the gigantic leap that is Act III. 

Act III opens with the sound of waves crashing on the beach before the band crashes into Seemingly Endless Time, its thrashing opening track. Like all of the tracks on Act III, Seemingly Endless Time doesn’t just thrash, it boasts a stellar vocal performance, well-crafted hooks, and memorable leads courtesy of guitarist Rob Cavestany. Simply put, he is one of the most underrated players in metal. Following Seemingly Endless Time is another Death Angel thrasher titled Stop. The band really shines on this song. The rhythms are barreling along at a million miles per hour but still effortlessly stop, start, and shift tempo. Mark Osegueda’s lead vocals are incredible and work particularly well during choruses when the band, who knows how to write a hook laden backing vocal, sings along. 

On the third track, Veil of Deception, Act III takes an unexpected turn. An acoustic number with incredible lead and backing vocals, Veil of Deception grabs you at the first listen. The guitar playing is tasteful and mature in execution. The vocal harmonies elevate the track and separate Death Angel from many of their harmonically challenged peers. Death Angel should also be applauded for having the guts to insert such a diverse track into Act III a mere nine minutes into the album. Typically, bands bury these kind of musical diversions deep within a records track list, almost as if they are embarrassed of their own experimentation.

The Organization and Discontinued follow and return Act III to its rightful, thrashy, disposition. Once again, catchy, gang-chant backing vocals make each song instantly memorable. The next track, A Room with a View, was a minor MTV hit and the band enjoyed frequent exposure on Headbanger’s Ball. A ballad that once again showcases the bands ability to pull off thoughtful, well-crafted songwriting, A Room with a View demonstrates musical maturity beyond their respective years. Once again Rob Cavestany’s lead guitar shines.

The second half of Act III is equally as strong as the first. Stagnant, X-TC, Disturbing the Peace, and album closer Falling Asleep all kill. Act III is strong from start to finish. There isn’t a bad cut on the album; in fact most are downright great. The album thrashes, but adeptly shifts gears. The album is diverse, but is never a challenge to the listener. When I listen to Act III, I am always amazed that the album didn’t propel Death Angel to superstardom. Two years later Metallica would become the first thrash band to break into the mainstream with the “Black” album. For my money, Death Angel beat them to the punch. 9.5/10

Metallica: Death Magnetic 2008

For many in Generation Y their first exposure to Metallica was probably Enter Sandman or Until It Sleeps. That thought just blows my mind. As a proud, card-carrying member of Generation X, I grew up with a very different Metallica. My Metallica was a band that you did not hear on the radio or see on MTV. They did not release albums with lofty commercial expectations. They rejected their peers in the music industry. They mocked them. They viewed themselves as fans that happened to be on stage. Their stage clothes consisted of tattered blue jeans, unwashed hair, and bad acne. Their bass player was still wearing bell-bottoms in 1986. Their sound was both uncompromising and trail blazing. They were at the forefront of a new strain of metal music that would become known as Thrash. Unlike eighties hair metal, this new music bore no resemblance to Chuck Berry’s rock-n-roll. It was a fusion of underground European metal and hardcore punk. All speed, no swing. Their tapes circulated around my high school like a bag of skunk weed or a lesbian porno. It was contraband. For this introverted and misunderstood teen, Metallica was dangerous and taboo. It was must have music.

Then came 1991 and everything changed.

Metallica became the mainstream.

After seventeen years of radio airplay, music videos, award ceremonies, magazine covers, photoshoots, interviews, documentaries, major motion pictures, soundtracks, therapy sessions, rehab, tribute albums, line-up changes, and enough self indulgent musical experimentation to make Styx blush, Metallica have allegedly returned to their roots with 2008’s Death Magnetic. The results are mixed.

The album starts off with a heartbeat as if to indicate that the Metallica of old are still alive and are just seconds away from reemerging from an almost two decade slumber. The beating heart segues directly into That Was Just Your Life, an at times thrashy number that features James Hetfield almost rapping (!) the lyrics. The End of the Line follows and is, in my opinion, the best track on the album. The track features all the trademark riffing one would expect from classic Metallica and boasts several dynamic shifts in tempo and mood. The third track is also the albums first single — The Day That Never Comes starts off by borrowing liberally from 1984’s Fade to Black and concludes by essentially rewriting 1988’s One. It’s a good song but seems a bit too familiar. It’s also on this track that the most problematic aspect of Death Magnetic is most evident...

Clipping.

When the chorus of The Day That Never Comes kicks in you will start to wonder if you’ve blown a speaker. Fear not, your stereo is fine. It’s the song that sucks. Or more specifically, the songs post production. You have just fallen victim to The Loudness Wars. Much has been written about The Loudness Wars online, I’m not going to rehash it here. You can research it yourself. But to make a long story boring, music has been mastered at increasingly higher volumes for the past twenty years, thus resulting in a product that while louder, sacrifices dynamics and range. Oh... and it clips.

Death Magnetic makes your speakers sound like they are farting. Which coincidentally is what 1988’s ...And Justice for All made my speakers do too. Just check out the intro to the track Eye of the Beholder. Which begs the question -- how can one of the wealthiest and most successful bands in the world consistently put out records that sound like shit? Death Magnetic is clipped beyond the threshold of enjoyable listener-ship, ...And Justice for All had zero bass guitar but somehow still managed to make my speakers fart, and 2003’s St. Anger was a complete creative and audible abortion. Do they even care? I seriously have to wonder. I saw Metallica in concert on the Death Magnetic tour. Kirk Hammet managed to butcher the iconic intro solo to Fade to Black. It’s a song he’s probably played a million times since its release in 1984. Sometimes I think they are just going through the motions.

Sonics aside, Death Magnetic starts out strong through four tracks and then fades the rest of the way. We are given a completely unnecessary third part to the Unforgiven. The chorus reminds me of Creep by the Stone Temple Pilots and James actually sounds bored singing it. Cyanide and The Judas Kiss sound like Load era tracks. Suicide & Redemption is okay, but easily becomes their fifth best instrumental behind Orion, The Call of Cthulhu, Anesthesia (Pulling Teeth), and To Live is To Die. The closing track, My Apocalypse is my least favorite. It sounds like a forced rewrite of 1986’s Damage Inc.

Death Magnetic has its moments and is definitely Metallica’s strongest effort in over a decade. Unfortunately for Metallica, they will always be both blessed and cursed by the strength of their own early legacy. They have coasted on the success of their first four landmark albums for nearly twenty years. They have used their legendary stature as creative license to explore whatever misguided musical whim they please. They have tested their fans loyalty and with Death Magnetic, they hope to win them back. Perhaps with the muscular production of Master of Puppets they might have succeeded. Instead we have the fuzzed out and over-cooked clip job that is Death Magnetic, leaving this fan to wonder if they even care. 6.5/10

Danzig: Deth Red Sabaoth 2010

I am a Danzig fan. I own everything the man has ever done. Misfits, Samhain, Glenn Danzig and the Power and Fury Orchestra, Danzig, Black Aria I and II… all of it. Shit, if he somehow dug up an old garage recording of his high school band, Whoodat and Boojang, I’d probably buy that too. I have a Misfits, Samhain and Danzig totem pole tattoo thing taking up much of my left arm. Clearly I mean business when it comes to Danzig fandom.

That’s why this review is going to be painful to write.

Danzig’s ninth studio album, Deth Red Sabaoth in some ways represents a return to form. Unfortunately for me, it also represents a continuing and frustrating trend -- the belief that with proper, even decent production -- this could have been a truly great Danzig album.

Despite internet scuttlebutt to the contrary, the problems that plagued 2002’s I Luciferi and 2004’s Circle of Snakes are present here as well. This is one of the most poorly mixed albums I have ever heard. The vocals are either buried by the muddy mix of Glenn’s backing band (Deth Red Moon) or sound as if they were recorded in a tin can (On a Wicked Night). Admittedly, Glenn’s earlier punk output with the Misfits and Samhain lacked quality production. Often it was downright awful. However, the vocals were always upfront in the mix. The best pipes in punk, gloriously on display, to the delight of all devil-locked Danzig devotees.

The Rick Rubin years continued this trend and even added a more musically sophisticated backing band. Eschewing his punk rock roots, Danzig the band, morphed into a blues rock powerhouse, complete with “borrowed” Howling Wolf and John Lee Hooker riffs. In spite of the benefit of a band of more capable musicians, Rubin knew who the star was, and wisely kept Glenn on top of the mix.

Compounding the fact that Glenn’s vocals are once again non-existent, is the inexplicable dominance of guitarist, Tommy Victor. The guitars are WAY up front in the mix, blanketing the entire band in pinch harmonics, directionless shredding, and dive bombs. There are more leads on this record than a Steve Vai solo project. Which is odd, because Glenn has had a history of frustrating past guitarists (John Christ) by limiting their lead guitar contributions. I can’t help but to imagine how fantastic an album by the original line-up could have been if Glenn had ever turned John Christ loose like he did Tommy Victor on Deth Red Sabaoth.

If you can get past the sonic malady, the material itself is at times, strong. Hammer of the Gods (one of a handful of tracks in which Glenn is audible) is a thunderous opener reminiscent of the I Luciferi era. JuJu Bone, is a bluesy track that would have fit nicely on 1992’s How the Gods Kill. Glenn has always had a knack for powerfully epic album closers and does not disappoint with Left Hand Rise Above. Deth Red Moon would have been the best cut on the album if the vocals were even remotely audible.

The album packaging is more of the same for later-era Danzig. Half-naked porn stars in skull masks, illegible copy littered with typos, tastelessly photoshoped images, and of course, Glenn mean-mugging for the camera. He really needs to hire a skilled graphic designer. The cover painting is good if you can get past the GIANT Deth Red Sabaoth type treatment.

Glenn is heading toward 60 and running out of time to put out another quality release. I really wish he’d go the Johnny Cash route and just do stripped down acoustic blues records from here on out. I think it is his best shot at regaining some much needed artistic credibility. No one wants to see an aging metal dude, acting like a hard ass in a fishnet tank top, singing about Satan, to a crowd of mulleted, unemployed stoners.

As for Deth Red Sabaoth? It is an album that will not make you forget the fantastic output of the Rubin years, but instead will likely have you messing with the EQ and counting the days until we get a properly remixed and remastered release. 6/10