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I’m not religious, so the only true spiritual uplift I encounter is when listening to music. Naturally, this level of zealotry extends beyond the records themselves. A self professed evangelist for whatever-it-is-I’m-currently-into, I’m also inclined to seek out other crusaders, to dial into their frequency.

I thought about writing a review for my favourite podcast, Disgraceland, but I fail to see how it will adequately convey the rush I experience when listening to Jake Brennan’s phenomenal conjuration. …


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Of all the competencies I’ve developed, writing has come most naturally.

I’m great at writing from pieces of my own design. I’m terrible at interpreting the vision of others.

I don’t mean making something that already exists better. Rather, knowing how a person wishes to express themselves and translating that onto the page. It’s more complex than an accessible tone-of-voice document can affect.

Where I excel, is in copy editing. Copy editing is true collaboration. It is the embodiment of trust, an exchange of ideas, and a translation of thought into meaning. …


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Let’s start with a little context. After all, it’s been 25 years.

Once Upon The Cross was released on April 14th, 1995. This interview was conducted between myself, and the Deicide frontman, Glen Benton, around March of the same year. I’d been able to get three or so listens of the advance tape in (yes I mean cassette!) before the call took place. Already well versed in the band’s first two abominations, it was more Benton’s temperament I was curious about.

He seemed a little frictious at first, contrary throughout, but it resolved in an enjoyable interview. Granted, he didn’t…


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True story…

  1. It sounds killer. That burly bass tone, those more Thrash-Metal-than-thou roto-tom rolls, that zipper-esque guitar tone and Angelripper’s inimitable voice. It’s a heavy record, with a bleak aura. Not a typical representation of mid to late 80s Thrash Metal, despite being an effective expression of it.
  2. They elected to evolve. I worship at the altar of the Bestial-Black-Death-War-Fago-Metal altar as much as the next guy, but where were they going to go after Obsessed By Cruelty? If you think of contemporary bands that make album after album in effectively the same current, (Revenge, Proclamation, Morbosidad, Blasphemophagher etc) this…

By Jase of Spades — November/December 2016.

Motörhead is my favourite band, period. The reason I was asked to write this band history, is largely because I spent 2016 listening to nothing but Motörhead. Across 53 blog posts, I wrote over 70,00 words about the experience, digging deep into these records, and theorising what it all meant — questing for an answer that may not even exist.

The crusade I undertook doesn’t make me qualified to write this; I am however, both privileged and honoured just the same.

I say honoured because I agreed to write this when asked, under the condition that it was published as…


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Image By Hieronymus Bosch — LINK. Public Domain, LINK

In no specific order.

One:

Question: Did anyone write greater riffs than Tom G Warrior on Morbid Tales and Emperor’s Return?

Answer: No.

Two:

Tom G Warrior, or Satanic Slaughter as he was known in his Hellhammer guise, reimagined Venom’s Novocastrian calamity, transforming their primitive battery into an approximate primordial art form.

I know it’s proper to refer to Cronos and co as Geordies, but Novocastrian sounds infinitely cooler and decidedly more absurd when referencing Venom. Faster and over the top! Aaaaarghhh!

Three:

H.R. Giger provided artwork for the band. The sleeve design of To Mega Therion, equally iconic as…


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On its face, this seems a dumb article to write.

No one is better off for harbouring a belief that one of these records is superior to the other.

From my perspective, it always boils down to the rush. All that really matters is how a record makes me feel. There is no higher law than this.

What if it was possible to undertake a points based assessment of these records. What would that reveal?

Below is a list of categories I have defined as important. Each afforded a rating out of 10. …


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The 1960s was synonymous with the hippie movement. Peace, love, and the celluloid soundtrack of Woodstock, Monterey and Altamont — the latter, another knife to the heart of the revolution; a scant four months beyond the depraved Manson-Family murders of 1969.

Emerging from the shadows of the decade were casualties of acid indulgence. Psychedelics were entertained liberally; blotter paper tabs paving a portal into unexplored dimensions of the mind, resulting in kaleidoscopic visions of altered reality.

Luminaries of the 60s psychedelic movement, Pink Floyd’s Syd Barrett, and Roky Erickson of the 13th Floor Elevators, are often cited as two of…


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December 2019 marked the 13th anniversary of his death; summer in my part of the world.

People say it happens a lot during the holiday season. That may be true; I’m unclear as to the intended benefit that is being extended through that insight. I guess condolence manifests in a host of ways. It’s not like I knew what to say.

13 years is a long time. Long enough to learn that some pain is perpetual, even if it becomes more adequately compartmentalised, and less visceral.

I still remember receiving a message from his cousin. I’d been out, doing…


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“It looked better in the brochure.”

Imagine that you’ve reached that point in your nine to five where you’re consumed by the anticipated rush of quitting. Plenty will feel it; some will consummate the urge.

Do you want another, by-the-books, please-give-me-a-nice-reference resignation? Or do you want to be feted by your peers, deified for your courage? Decision is obvious, I’d say.

And once you’ve crossed the rubicon, the likelihood of being asked why is almost absolute. Subsequently, your opportunity to burn a bridge has never been better staged.

I recommend submitting your resignation verbally.

Following the, “I’m resigning,” declaration, a…

Jason Healey

Over-thinker, conflator, philosophizer. Record collector/music enthusiast. Been writing about music for over twenty years. Only black humour is real.

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