Get a haircut and get a new god

So this is what the enlightened socialist paradise known as Sweden has contributed to the world of culture- a one man horrorshow named after a dead Hungarian countess. Well, all I can say is this- what have you done, Cambodians? How about you, the Qataris? And you, proud people of Mozambique, what have you done for the black metal scene over the last twenty years?

Seriously though, I don't intend to indict every Third World nation in this review for their lack of Satanic thrash metal bands. Most of those living in impoverished and war-torn countries simply have no time for writing noisy, chaotic paeans to the Lord of Hell and Fire. Heck, I live in the most "advanced" nation on the planet (or so they tell me, though a drive through parts of Louisiana might cause one to doubt such a claim), and I find myself too thinly spread to start up a black metal juggernaut.

That's why living in Scandinavia would be a dream come true. Apparently, Quorthon, the founder/only member/sole contributor to Bathory, was not forced to get a real job by the socialist utopia in which he lived. He was able to just sit around in his Stockholm residence, writing reworked Venom ditties at his leisure. The man never even played live, which is a sure sign of laziness. I always thought the northern European work ethic was a little more heavy-handed, but apparently I was wrong.

OK, let's get this review on its proper course.

In 1986, Bathory (aka Quorthon pretty much by himself) released its third album, the highly acclaimed "Under The Sign Of The Black Mark". It is a typically noisy, fast, intimidating affair that superficially explores not only the struggle between good and evil, but between nouns and verbs as well. Quorthon, you see, was a man who could not get subject-verb agreement right. He also didn't know how to properly utilize things such as tense ("now the hour is comed") or adjectives ("lowered into the *moisty* ground"). I expect a person from one of the most educated societies on the planet to handle English better than the average American, even if the individual in question is a dead metal guy for whom English was a second language.

"Under The Sign Of The Black Mark" is divided up into Sides Darkness and Evil, a fairly strong indication that the Satanic obsessions of albums past have not vacated Castle Bathory. Nor have Quorthon's musical gimmicks, which include searing guitar-borne chaos, fast to uber-fast tempos, and man-on-his-deathbed vocal sounds. In other words, not much sets this one apart from its predecessors, though fanzines around the world would have you believing this to be the Second Coming of the Cheap Gas Prices.

Beginning on a suitably ominous and misspelled note is the standard Bathory intro known as "Nocternal Obeisance". The winds of damnation blow, the eerie violins creak in the distance, and the thundering noises induce a great deal of anxiety. These opening things are always the most evil-sounding parts of the Bathory experience.

"Massacre" comes in faster than you can possibly imagine, and seems to be a battle scene between, well, warring parties of some kind (including the eternal foes, Subject and Verb). Quorthon shows off one of the least sexy voices on the planet, and the images of "cascades of blood and brain" aren't likely to enhance its general appeal. Nor are such award-winning lyrical constructions as "dead bodies finally comes to piece".

Hey...it's more thrash! "Woman Of Dark Desires" is Bathory's theme song of sorts, dealing as it does with the Countess herself. Quorthon shows a talent for details as he waxes Satanically about hazel-brown eyes that glow with bloodlust, and cold walls that "entombs". The major sin against the laws of English grammar would have to be "now the life you've lived have comed to life and unfolded is your perversity". Still, the song is kinda neat, with a spooky organ middle part that probably hatched the entire Norwegian black metal trend, and a solo that sounds as if it was bricked up alive in a fortress of effects.

The spooky synth intro of "Call From The Grave" was, I suppose, intended to make us think of a premature burial or something. It's slower, more of a march or goosestep type of tempo, and even has a melodic lead (with Maidenish harmonies) that makes the song sound more glorious than it should. Lyrically, we are handed down "the times was comed", "my souls would come to peace", and one of my favorite funniest understatements, "god of heaven, hear my cries of anguish- I'm in pain".

More evil synths give way to chugging axes and growling devil-adoration on "Equimanthorn", which is fast and punchy (who'da thunk?). Not only has "the moment comed", we also hear Quorthon ask to borrow the "eight-legged black stallion of Odin". Now THAT would be one souped-up Nordic horse.

The feel of a panzer division rolling up to one's front door can be felt on "Enter The Eternal Fire". Think The Scorpions' "The Zoo" being vocally handled by three month old roadkill, with an interesting picked-out guitar part in the middle. We've "comed this far" to a place "in which the fire burn" and "the heat scorch my flesh", and "the fall seem never to end". Even more poignant are the following lyrics, which were included in the CD booklet for those who couldn't figure them out: "oh noooooo", "nooooooo", and "Noooooooooo". That, my peeps, be poetry.

Though you might be inclined to think or desire so, "Chariots Of Fire" does not conjure mental images of people jogging to a catchy piano line. It's the extremely speedy height of Quorthon's English language desecrations, with a "damned earth commot under starspangled sky as the sound of destruction increase" while "the chariots emerge the poisoned air". Huh? We also receive the lukewarm news that "Hell's jaws are opens wide", revealing "toungs of red fire" that "unit with the cold northern breeze". You know, my unit used to have a "cold northern breeze" as well, but one time when the zipper came down, a powerful polar wind damn near killed Sharise and I had to

It's not the kind of "13 Candles" you'd expect to see Molly Ringwald in, if that's what you were thinking. Here we have "Satan's spawn being borned" and the "seed" being "sawn in a holy place" now that the "12th night is comed". I always try to imagine a bunch of guys with a hacksaw attempting to bisect a sunflower seed on the steps of St. Peter's.

The last tune, "Of Doom......", in addition to having a bunch of unnecessary periods in the title, seems to be Bathory's equivalent to Metallica's "Whiplash"; you know, the song designed to get the hardcore fans worked up into a frenzy. The fact that Bathory never played live must, of course, be kindly overlooked. Alongside the usual breakneck-party-in-your-hellfire can be found more lyrical enlightenments such as "Bathory Hordes is the uniting force", "you mailed us your hails/you spread our name and commotion", "we salute thy", and a mysterious allusion to a garden tool ("that's called shear bloody f*cking devotion").

And that, my folk, wased the review of a Bathory albums. It has all the rapid-fire devil thrash you'll ever need, plus a lifetime's worth of grammatical errors. It also has a minotaur or something on the cover showing off his guns (a local word for arm muscles) and progressive sense of fashion. It was obviously one of the starting points for the Norwegian thrash pack, who added stabbing one another to death and burning down churches to their resumes.

After this album, Bathory went off in a slightly more palatable "Nordic" direction. The thrashier elements were toned down a touch, and the lyrics explored less Satanic but equally-unwelcome-to-Christian topics as Viking slaughters, Odin's antics, and whatever it was that Thor did. In other words, Quorthon rediscovered his pagan Scandinavian roots, ditched the devil stuff, and floundered in obscurity until his recent early death.

Any questions? Concerns?

Consult my other Bathory reviews:

Bathory http://www.epinions.com/content_171596222084
The Return http://www.epinions.com/content_172710596228