Vikings, Romans and engineering museums.
I read news today oh boy
Not sure i’m doing that again soon
And thought the view is rather glum
We have some faith in better things, better things are yet to come….
Metal sounds wrong now, but in fact, it always did.
Metal in 2018 is brickwalled, uber-compressed, each lick recorded separately, Pro-Tooled to death. But metal on record has maybe never sounded like it should.
To hear what it should sound like, we need to go back. Not all the way back to the beginning – to the first Black Sabbath record and early occult rock efforts by the likes of Lucifer’s Friend or Bang – but to 1980.
1980 was Year Zero for the metal demo scene. These tapes, which were obscure then, but priceless now, are metal how it should be heard – drowned in tape hiss and testosterone, recorded in the drummer’s dad’s garage, the bass player’s O-level art-standard homemade backdrop a magical totem presiding over this great initiation rite of (mostly – at this stage) teenage boys in fertility-endangering skintight denim and studs.
Sure, some of these spotty young men would go on to be multibillionaires and make slick MTV rock. Others would still be playing their local pub 38 years on. They all believed. The beautiful motherfuckers.
The music, on this mixtape – from a handful of demo tapes produced during those early fumbling years of 1980-84 are all too fast, too noisy (in fact barely audible at times), and absolutely no one can play their instruments or sing. The guitar solos are incredible.
While some of these bands would later become mainstays of metal and still draw considerable audiences, at this great equalising level of the shonkily produced first demo, they’re all just as terrible and delusional as each other.
What’s worth remembering is this was music at the cutting edge – no records sounded like this yet, but in the coming years and decades labels and other bands would catch up with this visionary assault.
If you love this unaffected, screaming noise even a hundredth as much as I do then that will make me very happy.
O fons Bandusiae, splendidior vitro,
dulci digne mero non sine floribus,
cras donaberis haedo,
cui frons turgida cornibus
primis et venerem et proelia destinat.
Frustra: nam gelidos inficiet tibi
rubro sanguine rivos
lascivi suboles gregis.
Te flagrantis atrox hora Caniculae
nescit tangere, tu frigus amabile
fessis vomere tauris
praebes et pecori vago.
Fies nobilium tu quoque fontium,
me diecente cavis impositam ilicem
saxis, unde loquaces
lymphae desiliunt tuae.
As Heather Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams she found herself unwilling to be shot dead just for going to fucking school.
Although she tried her hardest, Heather could not think of any reason she would need to own a gun except to kill someone or something.
Heather and her fellow school kids decided it was no longer safe to go to school, and so no one did until it was safe for them to do so.
Life is short. Filled with stuff. Don’t know what for. Some ball of various stuff. Like the love of your friends. That’s the important stuff. The rest never got going. But i have a business proposition.
I learned all I know. By the age of nine. But I could better myself. If I could only find. Some kinda seed funding and a tax haven. Some kinda inheritance i never worked for.
I’m looking, I’m looking I’m looking for, something only a few of us are lucky enough to be born into.
Like wages don’t rise. Like corporations don’t pay tax. Like we need a minimum living wage. This baby needs…
An FM radio jock telling you who each moment in your life was sponsored by, and how helpful that is to your very existence.
We’re honoured today to host a guest mix from the pummelling, Brisbane-based EBM machine Multiple Man!
Multiple Man is indeed multiple men – though two crafted from the same basic DNA – brothers Sean and Chris Campion.
Their New Metal LP has been a big favourite of ours this year, and this fantastic mix for 20JFG really allows us a peak under the bonnet at their cornerstone influences.
Art is from Experiments in Motion Graphics (1968) by John Whitney Snr.