Cooking with Satan

Although their last good album goes way back to “Filth Pig”, Ministry’s discography was so far totally flawless (and yes I regard “With Sympathy” as a great album) and exemplary.
I saw them live for the first time when I was something like 13 or 14 and they left a really strong impression on me and my auditory system. I remember especially the “SHUT UP!!!” Al yelled at the sound man so he could cut the shitty background music. Blackout. The crowd screams, I sense something big is about to happen. And then the first notes of “N.W.O” engulfed us all in a storm of decibels and flames. “What the…?” said the old me…
I remember mostly sounds, barely images, I was far from the stage and it was a summer festival but I’m pretty sure what happened that night is pretty similar to the content of “Fix: The Ministry movie”.
“Fix” captures the band’s madness at its peak, during the “Filth Pig” tour, and their descent into a boozy drug-addled paranoid madness from which they, alas, won’t recover. Yes, the band never ever recorded a good album since… Paul Barker left a couple of weak records later and Al is now relocated in El Paso, drinking vino, gardening and playing thrash metal with is back-up band. I haven’t seen the movie yet so I can’t go too much into details but from what I read here and there, despite its total lack of structure, it’s smart enough to leave you wondering what’s the part of reality and stagecraft in this dangerous mess. Mess here, mess there, chaos, drugs & death. That’s what we all came to see and yes, you’ll see it all, whether it’s staged or not… But I mean, isn’t it the very essence of rock n’ roll? Even if only a part is true, which I doubt anyway, so be it: death to reality, long live the myth. Ministry’s legend is indestructible and I don’t care much if the band is long dead and gone. Their legacy kicks some serious ass.

Learn more about Fix and who are the lunatics behind this insanity here

Trailers #1 & #2 below, for your viewing pleasure.

And now introducing one of my latest obsession:
White Horse is the project of Ben Chisholm (Chelsea Wolfe) and has released three EP’s so far.
This serie has been baptized: “The Revenant Gospels”. Indeed, White Horse music is made out of eerie rhythmic sounds over dead people’s voices. Simple but stunning. From old baptist gospel to Freddie Mercury’s “Bohemian Rhapsody”, White Horse brings back to life these souls from the realm of death. If it almost sounds sometimes like they are surprised, angry or upset of being here, it always feels like they’re much alive again. This invocation-like effect gives White Horse music all its depth, mystery and beauty.
A track like ““So That Death Will Tremble To Take Us” (which was featured in our latest podcast) is absolute perfection and a true gem. Since these vocals are not looped, I personally prefer when the track is built around the vocals and not the opposite. So, quite probably, a better balance could be found on a couple of tunes but this is definitely one of my favorite thing to listen to at the moment. All hail the Dead!

Since it’s uploaded on their bandcamp, I didn’t see any problem with also sharing here, but please support the artist.
All three EP’s can be directly purchased here.

The night is august 17th. A wednesday.

Chelsea Wolfe makes her NYC début tonight and the club is packed.
The lady is expected I guess… And the fact she’s playing solo on that very special night makes it even more exclusive baby. No backing band as usual but a dark canva of electronic sounds provided by Mr. Ben Chisholm (AKA White Horse, AKA voices of the Dead) to support Chelsea Wolfe’s delicate universe. Try to picture Countess Bathory high on ketamine, lost in a David Lynch movie and you’re almost there. Somewhere between the Carpathian mountains and Sunset Blvd, Chelsea Wolfe music is nothing but a sweet haunting nightmare. Any move she makes or any cord she plays and the audience is all eyes and ears. My friends, it basically took her 15 seconds to hypnotize everyone. I don’t know if she took the veil thing from Metallic Falcons or not, if her music is goth, witch house, brutal death or christian rap and I don’t really care actually. It looks stunning and sounds awesome. In short: just fucking amazing.

Before that: shoegaze gloom bedroom band Planning For Burial made his guitar cry out loud. Sounds like I’m making fun but seriously: his guitar riffs are just so damn epic in their sadness it’s astonishing. Planning For Burial “Leaving” LP is really cool and out for a little while now, we already played some in Beastie Box, check it out.
And to conclude the evening: a spastic, rabid, intense Cult Of Youth played a 15 minutes set. Way too short, I was definitely up for more… I’m just hoping the delayed schedule this evening was the only reason for such a tease!

Chelsea Wolfe stole the night anyway, and this first New-York gig will definitely be part of the “I was there” kind of shows two years from now. That should be what it will take for Chelsea Wolfe to conquer the world. She, for sure, got what it takes.

Oh and don’t forget to purchase their new record out on Pendu!

Here are a few shots from the evening, I’ll post more once I’m through all my jpegs.

CULT OF YOUTH

Fuck yeah! New Diapsiquir!!! This band is getting better and better over the years and their new album is the finest piece of shit they’ve released so far. For those of you weaklings who don’t know the band, I would call it a mix between avant-garde norwegian black-metal from the nineties (“666 International” and all that shit), industrial music and french artists like Daniel Balavoine or Booba coupled with a badass attitude, lots of booze, drugs & piss. All in all, a big wet stinky hairy hole from which is crawling out devil worshippers, pedophiles, junkies, crazies, suicide bombers, hooligans and hoodlums. If you have vertigo, don’t look down: this album is an abyss spitting blood and cum.
The songs’ structures are as chaotic, broken and deliciously confusing as the production is brilliant and I have to say arrangements are fucking flawless. Who has ever thought of a flamenco guitar over industrial loops and a spoken word? Yes, these guys are actually smarter than you think: from sampling Jedi Mind Tricks to Stelvio Cipriani, they got props and probably better taste than you. They play their anxiety on the grand piano, going from blast beats to break beats in a blink of an eye and don’t give a damn if you think this is not how black-metal should sound.
Actually, they are the assholes who are making fun of your ponytail and want to kick your fat ass when you’re getting drunk with your metal buddies at the Black Dog. They want to punch you in the face and I have to say they’re right. Beautiful and delicate as a crackhead hobo butt fucking an angel with a dildo made of razorblades. Gnarly.

Brothers and sisters, rejoice! The new offering from WKN temple is here! Former industrial god and presently high priest of the Infinite Church Of The Leading Hand, our beloved Reverend Sunlight Julius, is back in what shall be considered as one of his finest release. From bombastic wagnerian industrial operas to fuzzy trippy cosmic torpedoes, DB music has kept an impressive cohesion all the way, constantly expanding in its own very special universe and pushing musical boundaries super nova style. So the announcement of this unexpected, however logical, alliance with occult architects Aluk Todolo might have surprised at first but couldn’t make any more sense in regards to DB recent evolution. Aluk Todolo being undoubtedly part of the most exciting bands around at the moment there were tremendous expectations on that record and the Gods did not disappoint.
This record is a sequel to the inaugural DB/White Hills project: not your average split but a real collaboration between the two bands that basically combines best of both worlds. Even though connoisseurs will hear “who is doing what”, the alchemy totally works and I’m not going to say this is just a DB + AT kind of thing. Nope, this collaboration really bring the bands unto new territories and makes their usual sound only richer and better.
Now, I know that psychedelic and dark are the most common words you’ll probably read about this record. Personally I can’t help but finding a huge Giallo influence in it, the mix of rhythmic patterns, hypnotic bass lines, vocal samples, organ and shrinking guitars are the perfect giallo on LSD soundtrack to me. I can see the camera zooming on the black leather gloves opening the razor in slow motion as mandalas and sigils are spinning in the background… I can totally see that. And that feels really good. Maybe this record was supposed to rocket me straight to heart of the sun, instead I went down to the basement, where it stinks real bad and you can hear scratches inside the walls… Not bad either and absolutely mind fucking.
This wonderful LP has been released in limited quantity and from what I heard is almost, if not already, sold-out. It will probably be released on CD at some point so stay tuned. All praise due to the reverend!

Do you remember this legend about Dead, the Mayhem vocalist, saying he used to inhale the remnants of a dead raven he was keeping in a plastic bag before taking the stage?
Well, listening to Sale Freux’s “Subterraneus” is basically the musical equivalent of breathing a putrid raven corpse buried in some unholy ground for weeks.
I can’t honestly think of a better description…

Like any other musical genres struck by mainstream recognition, black-metal has drifted far, far away from its original essence and I’m always grateful to bands who keep the flame of the old days alive. As long as they do it with style.
And like any of these bands (there are actually not so many but all are mentioned in this blog), Sale Freux has invented nothing (who has anyway?) and owes a lot to “Transylvanian Hunger” or any other norwegian cornerstones of the early 90’s, but Sale Freux has digested a long time enough the teachings of the elders to regurgitate them with its own pestilential breath. Yes, pestilential it is: this album reeks of death, madness and a strange morbid beauty.

Black-metal is all about the atmosphere, all about the grimness.
It is about black & white out of focus pictures not glossy photoshopped sessions with shiny 20 inches spikes purchased on e-bay. It is about capturing the invisible, the unseen, not writing overproduced songs with bombastic arrangements on pro-tools and fucking triggered drums. It is about a music reaching the inner depths of your soul, not a collection of catchy hooks for drunk teenagers in the mosh-pit. And fuck all those metalhead crowds and fuck Watain too.

BM is clandestine, vile, stinky and fucking raw. Sturm Und Drang.
Sale Freux (Bloody Rook in french) embraces all of the above.

The band plays a cavernous (in the sense that it sounds like it was recorded in a cave, could be a swamp too) music echoing the rural french folklore from long forgotten days. But these echoes are more conceptual than musical, so no stupid pagan metal crap here, again it’s all about the atmosphere. If you have ever wandered in some old forest somewhere in the rural parts of France, Sale Freux music will be even more appealing to you as the band captures perfectly this melancholic, mysterious and haunting mood you can feel in these places as long as you have a little imagination and propension to tragedy (Dionysus).
“Subterraneus” is a menacing black-metal storm with ravenous melodies, the epic odyssey of a lost soul screaming along with the witches, the ravens and the sick, cursing mankind, celebrating the wicked. There’s some desperate romanticism to it, almost like a pale baudelairean sun glowing throughout the record.
All lyrics are in french which fits perfectly to the music, I can’t really tell more about this but there’s a certain poetry to it with the use of old-fashioned french, something a little similar to Darvulia syntax, although the music…
»  read on…

So here it is, finally, the long-awaited first Cult Of Youth album.
Their previous efforts showed impressive maturity, this one just oversteps everything they did before. As simple as that. So let’s keep it simple, this is what this album is to me: simple and beautiful, just like the Ramones.
Cult Of Youth is a real band now, and there’s violin, and there are drums and no, it doesn’t make them sound like the fucking Pogues either… More Folk than Dark, Cult Of Youth plays a music of celebration. No militaria gimmicks, cheap pan-germanist occultism and disenchanted tales about western decay and homemade alcoholic decoctions. Cult Of Youth is through with the Dark Folk carnival.
No, here, ladies and gentlemen, you will hear throats get scorched and drums get pounded the punk way. Imagine a choir of sailors drunk on moonshine in a Bornese saloon (but a dive bar in the lower east side will do just fine too). This album got fever, rabid fever. The opener, “Wild West”, will picture you riding the trans-siberian as a blood red sun is cutting through the clouds and a pack of wolves is chasing the train. Romantic right?
Like the final hour of a prussian hussar on the battlefield, Cult Of Youth takes no prisoner and play its music as if there were no tomorrow. And that’s what I really like about this band. This intensity gets dangerously close to a fragile perfection (“Weary”), taking back the Americana folklore to a shamanic trance state (“The Lamb”) or simply writing a irresistible pop anthem (“Lace Up Your Boots”), all sounding like it’s an easy thing for them… The rest of the album is as good as the four songs mentioned in this article.
The influences are still here but they definitely left some room for the songwriting and I’m telling you: this band will be among the leaders of the alternative (name it indie, punk or folk) scene very, very soon. I mean they kinda are already, but not enough people are aware of it yet.

Simon

Get your copy here.

Just coming back from watching “Lemmy”, a feature film about Lemmy Kilmister of Motörhead. Yup. I can remember me and my buddies joking in high-school, saying Lemmy should get a fucking statue of his own. Well, boys and girls, we’re getting there. No statue yet but a two-hours flick (in theaters please) to pay tribute to the man and guess what: he didn’t even have to die to deserve it. Yes indeed, the nineties are gone, the leather-pants-bullet-belt style is back in fashion but some never stopped sporting it… This movie talks about the one who started it.

Over countless years, he has became rock n’ roll personified. The real deal, the whole sex, drugs, fuck-off-and-die thing. Rock music the way it is supposed to be: reeking of testosterone and gasoline, making you ears bleed and scaring the shit out of your parents. Definitely not the plastic MTV rock farce for mobile phones commercials and superbowl arenas. And the entire world knows it. When “Californication” needs to shoot a scene with a rocker, they go get Lemmy not fucking Brett Michaels. Get it?
He collects WWII memorabilia, drinks a bottle of Jack and smokes two packs a day. He has definitely too many nasty habits and a too loud mouth to ever go full mainstream but he probably doesn’t give a flying fuck either. In the kingdom of rockstar wannabes, Lemmy does not play. He is just Lemmy from Motörhead. Outlaw, renegade, pirate, biker and apostle of truth. Yes, he started to play in bands to get laid, did tons of speed and booze, a handful of classic albums and 40 years later, he’s still around to talk about it from his dirty, small, L.A apartment.
Lemmy’s character and story, larger than life, carries the movie on his shoulders. Lemmy is the movie, the movie is Lemmy. Whether he’s cutting potatoes to cook french fries or shooting missiles from a german tank replica with a bunch of military freaks in the woods of California, the guy’s presence is so huge and badass he only has to appear on the screen to label it cult classic. He got style, charisma and certainly doesn’t mind a drink or two. Yes, you’d probably kill for him to be your dad, wouldn’t you?
These everyday life scenes (Lemmy showing his weapon collection, chilling with his son on the couch -and confessing they traded girls once-, having a drink at the Rainbow, going through an epic soundcheck or recording the new Motörhead album) are mixed with interviews with some big figures of the metal & punk scene. Some cool (Scott Ian and the amazing “short” story, Dave Grohl, Lars Frederiksen) some horrible (Dave “I want to be an icon too” Ellefson, Kat Von D) and sometimes totally out of line (Steve Vai, what the fuck?) plus a handful of devoted, drunk fans and his road crew. All kissing Lemmy’s ass all the way as the revered rock legend he is.…
»  read on…

I already told you all the good I think of the new Swans album but I still need to write more in depth about the amazing double CD edition of the album I received for Christmas (best present by far).
When recording “My Father”, looks like Michael Gira wanted to experiment a slightly more on his songs’ structure and sound but eventually wimped out and went for a more conventional pattern (which doesn’t take off the immense quality of the album whatsoever).
But the man wouldn’t let this die and, may he be eternally rewarded for this, finally recorded his own very personal version of the record, based on the original material, stacked with overdubs, orchestrations and other sound manipulation wonders. So what we have here is a even more epic & grand piece of music than the already sublime “My Father”. I, indeed, prefer this alternate version because of its monolithic aspect and palpable tension from beginning to end. My personal soundtrack to Dante’s “Inferno”, “Look At Me Go” is a ritualistic, sacred chant escaping from a lousy basement somewhere here in the city. And as I look at the snow falling at the window and the record is spinning, I swear to God, I can feel the darkness crawling beneath my feet and the warmth of heaven light shining high above my head.

This is a must-have, you can purchase it directly at Young God Records

Record of the fucking day…

This collection of songs, featuring all the demos recorded before their first album, contains everything I love about black-metal.
Peste Noire may not be as grand as scandinavian bands but is a filthy, rancid black-metal commando who exhales a true atmosphere of rotten bones and ancient stones. Rooted in the dark ages of french History, Peste Noire hosts a macabre feast where François Villon, our guest of honor, gives a toast to all the insane, the crooked, the sick, the pariahs, the hooligans and the outlaws sitting at the table…
No need for folk-metal bullshit or fantasy stuff to bring you back to this land of darkness and blood. This strong cultural heritage combined with the most clandestine black-metal is like the sun setting on the ruins of an ancient king mausoleum. A painting of the devil under wine-colored skies. A place that never was and will never be anywhere but in Peste Noire music.

“Mors Orbis Terrarum” was first released as a double tape limited to 3000 copies then re-released as a double LP. I’m not going to upload this here, do yourself a favor and order yourself a copy.

Did I also mention the sound is raw as fuck so this is definitely not recommended to hi-fi lovers?

The legendary folk duo made a stop in Brooklyn for their mini east-coast tour and this was an event that was not to be missed.
Much larger than the neo-folk scene they’re usually associated with, Changes is a musical act who sings tales from the old-world with the rather simple, but astonishing, use of a 12 strings guitar and two microphones. It’s like travelling back in time, in a long-forgotten place. All you have to do is sit down, close your eyes, listen to the warm and gentle voices and let yourself be carried away by the music.
Unfortunately they had to cut down their set to its half due to a strict curfew but they granted us with 40 minutes of pure magic and I’m so happy I was there.
I also got the chance to have a very long conversation with Robert N. Taylor and I rarely met such a warm and interesting guy. Too bad I wasn’t carrying my recorder that day. With topics as varied as the proper use of fire wood in winter, ancient poetry, geometric patterns or his contant book trading with Michael Moynihan, the man lost me here and there but it was like being drowned in some staggering ocean of knowledge. Wait did I miss all the bands playing before? Yeah, I also vaguely remember having whiskey shots at the bar with some random people discussing far less noble things, way after all the audience left the venue, but that’s another, and much less glorious, story I’ll keep for myself.

CLICK ON THE POST TITLE TO SEE MORE PICTURES

“My Father Will Guide Me Up A Rope To The Sky” is the title of the new Swans album. The iconic band has returned (without Jarboe, some will pout but it’s a good thing). Ok so we all know how bitter some come-backs can be, but from an artist who never made any compromise, a bad album was not an option. Michael Gira’s music is just inspired. The guy has it, that’s all there is to say. He’s just a good songwriter. Grand & epic but also fucking ferocious & cynical sometimes (“You Fucking People Make Me Sick” is sung by his 3 years-old daughter along with Devendra Banhart), “My Father” stomps and grooves in a religious, western decorum. Just like if The Stooges were wearing cow-boy hats, reading the new-testament while copping an absinthe buzz under the milky-way. The quiet fields of Michael Gira recent projects (Angels Of Light) have been left for some more ambitious, nightmarish textures that took things back where they were left 13 years ago. The opener “No Words/No Thoughts” is a hook-up that will keep you hypnotized for the next 45 minutes, up to the climax with the monumental “Eden Prison”. Overall, it’s a really solid record that totally worth getting into. This sweet poison is the sonic proof that some artists have developed their song-writings over the years without selling-out. Swans is really one of a kind and now that they’re back I realize I missed them. This said, I didn’t even fucking get they were playing in NY last week…

NB: the album is now available as a double CD including 40 minutes of additional music. Mr Gira says: “I took instrumental passages and single sounds from the “My Father…” album and tortured them and stretched them and added other sounds and orchestrations and strangled that mess until it was forced into a new form called “Look At Me Go”.

Killer.

Purchase “My Father Will Guide Me Up A Rope To The Sky” at Young Gods records.

For those of you who don’t know the band, check this out:

To be honest with you, Drunkdriver is the band in which I’d like to be. Absolument.
They have it all man, even the bad reputation. Drums, guitar, vocals and, boy, such a earthquake. Their music is similar to a punch in the face but a punch with giant motherfucking razor blades. Not fancy razor blades you know, like shiny, clean metallic ones. Nope. These blades are all dust and rust. Think about something that hurts, that scratches your flesh 5 inches deep, something nasty, like pinhead with a Lespaul discovering that distortion can also hurt. The good news (sorry for all the masochistic out there) is that though dissonant and fucked-up it may be, their first eponymous LP definitely contributes to make a the hardcore scene a fresher place to breathe. And god damn it, this is good. Punk (hardcore, noise, whatever) album of the year. These guys can be proud of that one. Drunkdriver is dead, long live Drunkdriver and fuck the internet.

Now our policy here is not to upload albums that you can easily get by sending a few bucks to purchase their new fantastic limited LP (which apparently won’t be repressed). So as Robbie used to say: “Do it, do it…“.

Don’t miss it. I repeat: “Don’t Miss It”.

Two great performances curated by the (in)famous Pendu NYC that night in Brooklyn.
The Glasslands Gallery was the perfect venue for that show even if some dumb-ass cops seem to think they are fucking Charles Bronson around here, but anyway…
King Dude is mainly TJ Cowgill, he’s hailing from Seattle and he’s playing haunting folk songs with a voice deep as a grave. It’s sad, dark and it smells like goat in winter. The kind of music you’d like to hear around a bonfire in the woods for the solstice with steak knives and liquor in your blood.
Now, I was disappointed at first when I realized that Cult Of Youth would be playing as a one-man band but actually Sean (leader and songwriter) delivered a fiendish performance, literally possessed by his music, including some new stuff that sounded very promising for the band’s future. Hell, he even granted us with a cover of “Dark Wood Too Awakes” by Current 93 and totally killed it! Somewhere between a mad preacher and a folk poet, it was absolute brilliance here.
I left before Cosmetics, the last band before the disco-dance party, played but I’m sure, even it’s not really my thing, it was a cool show as well.
So thanks to all the bands who played tonight and thanks to Pendu NYC for another great event in Brooklyn. I’m really looking forward to hear new Cult Of Youth material and to all of you out there who like folk music with horns you should check King Dude.

More King Dude here
More Cult Of Youth here

KING DUDE

CULT OF YOUTH

(All pictures by Simon for Cooking with Satan, do not use without authorization)

KING DUDE “RIVER OF GOLD” VIDEO

Yoga comes out from nowhere, torch the night in iridescent fires and crawls back to its original nothingness.
What did you exactly hear? You don’t really know… For a brief moment (but maybe much longer than you think) you visited another world.
You held your breath and closed your eyes. Space and time were gone. And that’s when the visions started: you were standing at the thin edge of reality and the gate, in a slow fractal motion, opened wide…
In stupor, fear and amazement, you saw the whole universe swallowed by a giant voracious mouth, then regurgitated in a cacophonous orgy of sounds echoing from star to star, to the furthest galaxies where the unnamable waits in hunger. Then you got tossed back on earth, like a meteor of light, wandering as a ghost in the strangest places you’ve ever been… Some flooded basement or a putrid swamp perhaps? An abandoned industrial complex in the middle of nowhere maybe? Unless it’s an Enochian temple or the ruins of some long forgotten city, lost in the desert, bathing in moonlight… Shapes and sounds kept on changing until the very last second of your trip. When you finally woke up. Who knows what exactly happened?
“Megafauna” is a sonic Ayahuasca decoction where the notions of “black metal”, “ambient”, or even “songs” can be left at the door (and all due respect, I don’t think that a black metal equivalent of Throbbing Gristle works either, a musical equivalent of H.P Lovecraft meeting Don Juan on a Jodorowsky set maybe). Yoga is all of that and none of that. Yoga is a big mystery that challenges you to face the unknown. And when you think you finally get it, this fuzzy, lo-fi mantra goes deeper in its irrevocable march to the realms beyond. This album is a vortex.
And I’m so glad it exists.

More Yoga here.

Purchase here.

REPTOIDS

ENCANTE

I THEUNSTOPPABLEDEATHMACHINES WAS LOUD
(and definitely my favorite band of the evening)

II WIZARDRY WAS BALLSY

III LA OTRACINA WAS GLOWING

… and I left before Bezoar.

(pictures by Cooking with Satan, do not use without asking, yes I’m looking at you)

Hey motherfuckers. It’s been a while. Sorry about that, these last two weeks were just intense. So what’s new?
As a young fresh immigrant, it’s with great pride that I spent my first 4th of july week-end in the states. Not barbecuing ribs no, but being terribly excited about seeing one of these rare Faith No More reunion shows on a monday evening at The Waterfront in Brooklyn, the very last date of their east-coast mini tour. Yes, their first New-York show in 12 years!!! The sun was furnacing high up in the sky on that day and, following the inevitable bare chest parade that usually occurs then, I can tell you now that I’ve never seen so many bad tattoos in my life. 12 years after their split and without any new material, Faith No More stills gather a good couple thousands of fans. Pretty cool. Even if they have terrible taste in tattoos. But yeah, most of these guys are metal-heads. Let’s not forget that.
The venue is some kind of industrial field barely set-up with a few tents and a big stage, nearby the river, a few blocks away from my apartment. I love America. But I just fucking hate funky free-jazz band with a terrible sax player and a even more terrible drunk-sounding singer. And I also fucking hate that nobody gives a shit about what’s going on on stage, sitting on the grass, drinking bears, eating pizzas and smoking weed a few feet away from the musicians. Not that I threw some rocks at them but, well, I kept my distances. Anyway. After a too long wait (did I mention the stupid stand-up comedian bashing Korn or Limp Bizkit or Justin Bieber with totally non-fun jokes but at least less irritating than a free-jazz saxophone? Neil Hamburger is his name), Faith No More finally takes the stage. The five of them, a little bit older and fatter (except Mike Patton but we see his damn face much more often than the other guys so we probably don’t notice or maybe i’m just being jealous) throwing a quick intro (“Midnight Cowboy” with Mike Patton on melodica, nice) right before really getting into it. “The Real Thing” marked the start of two hours of gay funky glam-metal maestria (including two encores).
The band was cool, chilling (maybe sometimes a little bit too much), even stage-diving for Mike Patton (who performed the entire show in a red suit while the heat was around 90°F). They played all their smash-hits: “Digging The Grave”, “Epic”, “Be Agressive”, “We Care A Lot”, “Midlife Crisis”, “Easy” of course, they invited Rahzel on “Chinese Arithmetics” but also they granted us with a stunning Michael Jackson cover (“Ben” commemorating the first year anniversary of his death) that really kicked my ass big time. And It actually happened anytime FNM played grand, pompous, FM hard-rock stuff. This is where they’re really amazing to me. Because they do it bouncy. And what made…
»  read on…

Wow… This is seriously the best ambient drone stuff I’ve heard in ages…
I recently discovered the band in an old issue of Oaken Throne zine. I was quickly going from interview to interview without really paying attention to my reading until I bumped into the story of that girl who used to travel India messed-up on ketamine (and all kind of drugs she could find there). One day she bought thorazine from a sketchy guy who sold the shit as morphine. She eventually woke up and came up with the song: “Thorazine Eclipse”. What??? High on ketamine and thorazine in India, fear and loathing in Calcutta? I just can’t think of a more accurate description of hell.
I flipped a few pages back: that same girl recently spent 9 months in Pakistan, living under a burka, where she lived in a small village and recorded some sounds for her upcoming album called “Islamic Bomb”. Holy fucking shit!!!
So I did what I could to get her first two albums under the name “Dialing In” and I’ve been instantly blown away but what I heard then:
Disturbing noisy, haunting lo-fi ambient, desolate urban landscapes with layers and layers of distorted chords (guitar, piano) and a voice that you could compare to a conjuration of dead souls. But what’s more surprising is that Reita Piecuch, that’s her, without compromising her love for basic tape-recorders, manages to keep a pop aspect in her music. Well, for someone who admitted she always found Sonic Youth boring as opposed to Fletwood Mac, the heroes of her teen days, it’s maybe not that surprising… It’s great, brilliant stuff here. On top of that, she’s also involved in photography and her taste in urban decay, dumps and other wrecks is totally according to my taste.
Anyway, I didn’t get a chance yet to get her third album but it’s available now on vinyl (and limited to 500 copies) on Music Fellowship. I guess I’ll place my order tomorrow or something.

You can listen some stuff here.

I heard many things about what you can get at a Eyehategod show. Some were positive, most, as you guessed, were negative. I won’t deny that everyone has his bad days, especially when you’re a bunch of New-Orleans fiends as much famous for your substance abuse and your crime record (we personally don’t give a shit, but the kids like it) than your music, but everybody has its own opinion on what a good show is… So I don’t know for the others (who cares anyway?) but what I saw yesterday was merely one of the best gig I’ve ever seen. Everything was perfect from start to finish. Eyehategod played as if they were just one man, one big hairy menacing sweaty man, granting the hysterical crowd with all his nastiness. If Williams and Bower get the money shots, the guys behind them play tight as hell and deserve as much credit as their bandmates. It was a little bit more than an hour of raw punk energy, bad attitude (that singer is really evil, no doubt about it) and humongous riffing crushing your face right in the dirt. God, it was intense…
Now, the other bands that night… Wait! What other bands are you talking about?

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(pictures by Cooking with Satan, do not use without permission)

Fuck yes! Punk-rockers, crusties & metal-heads, dogs, open fee at the entrance, 1 € beer, cool merchandizing (home made patches, buttons, even some Hellnation tees!) all in together tonight, D.I.Y or die!!!
The venue is located nearby the river in a trashy fucked-up neighborhood right in the middle of nowhere, a perfect location for the gig as dark clouds gather and a cold rain starts to fall.
After quite some delay, Black Widow (a one-man project by Rob from Grey Daturas (R.I.P) who’s also playing drums with Monarch! tonight) opened the show with monotonous fuzzy drone analogic noise. 15 minutes, a short set that would have been boring if longer. The dude just stopped in time. Not really a consistent opening act, just a small appetizer for the rest to come!
Parisian veterans Desecrator unleashed a juggernaut of ultra-fast messy grind-core punctuated with putrid growls and harsh screams. Classic stuff to say the least. But two barking dogs in the middle of the pit just made it sound cooler than expected! A little bit more craziness would have been appreciated though…
Then Monarch! totally killed it in one very long song haunted by howling delayed vocals slightly taking over this ritual descent. After a good ten minutes of drone, the beat finally sets on a melancholic sabbathian riff that goes on and on. The song finally ends in a rather abrupt way as you happen to expect some kind of climax that would have made the thing perfect. But still an awesome show, all made of skulls, bones and drones. Monarch! rules as kings in the crypt of funeral music. Word.

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(pictures by Cooking with Satan, do not use without authorization)

It’s actually pretty rare to see a black-metal concert with only worth checking stuff.
Usually there’s always some crappy cheap symphonic act between two bands or even sometimes no good band at all but just a bunch of goofy metalheads muppets wearing bad corpsepaint and playing some kind of fuzzy high-pitched Iron Maiden with synth.
Tonight though, it’s a different story…
I’d suggest you to browse the Metal-Archives to have a better clue about the black-metal hall of fame who were on stage that night but let’s just say that these guys are hugely responsible, through their various musical projects, in the worldwide very known fact that french BM kicks some serious ass (sometimes).
Ok, Aosoth didn’t really impressed me but their show was a decent starter for the evening. Some good tunes but too similar from one to the other. Not totally bad but not really good either…
I was quite curious to see Blacklodge live as their industrial black-metal fueled on narcotics (Mysticum anyone?) is quite the shit on record. Good stage presence, all dressed in the same uniform, and awesome vocals (that reminded me of Master’s Hammer for some reason) but unfortunately too messy to really catch the brilliantness of their music. Some parts were totally insane, and totally appropriate to put you in a trance-like state, as some others were drown in the echoes of a fainting drum machine. Enough highlights though to enjoy the performance enhanced by Shantidas (from Aluk Todolo/Diamatregon/Obscure) visuals, mixed live on some good old cathodic screens. A better live sound would have certainly helped them out.
Then Hell Militia, leaded by the mighty Willy (also known as Meyhna’ch) took over the stage and literally torch the place with their merciless black assault. Nothing but very conservative black-metal at its best empowered by a very charismatic leader. The man got some consistence for sure. Very good response from the crowd (not too big by the way, a little bit over a hundred) as well, some moshpit here and there, and a pretty good conclusion with a GG Allin cover (I might be wrong here by the way). Badass as fuck!
In conclusion, this was probably the best black-metal concert I’ve seen in ages. Hands down to Blacklodge for the originality of their music and Hell Militia for a merciless show.
Alcest was playing the very next day, I’m glad I’d fixed my mind on that one instead.

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(pictures by Cooking with Satan, do not use without authorization)

Today, march 30st, sees the release of the “Wu Massacre” by Def Jam, the most exciting Wu-Tang Clan side-project since ages if you want my opinion. Mostly handled by the holy trinity Meth, Ghost and Raekwon (The Chef) and produced by Mathematics, Scram Jones and RZA, the opus really caught my attention with its amazing artwork signed Chris Bachalo (back to “Liquid Swords” baby!) and the pretty cool teasers (all “7″ inspired) that preceded the launch of the album. Probably not the new “36″, but definitely old-school and massive. Fat beats, you know. Check it out.

25 years after the big wave, it’s cool to listen to heavy metal again. Can you believe that?
I can still remember the half amused, half embarassed look hipsters would give you, wearing an Iron Maiden tee back in 2000. Anyway… Trends suck and this one is no exception but well, there’s nothing bad in the fact that old glories of our youth take the stage over again. Anvil was part of this heavy-metal magic pack, along with Whitesnake, Ratt, Stryper and a bunch of others, except they were faster, nastier and from Canada. They were partly responsible for the term speed-metal and Rob Reiner, their drummer, was totally the shit at the time with these ultra fast double-bass kicks. But for some reason (let’s put it on the wrong place- wrong time syndrome) they totally fell into oblivion after their first three acclaimed albums, although they kept on recording records, touring in small clubs and dreaming about becoming rock-stars. “Anvil: The Story Of Anvil” tells us this most amazing story of perseverance and dedication to their music, their lifetime dream. Good for us, the movie hasn’t been shot by some pretentious asshole who doesn’t know shit about rock music but by one of their ex-roadie, when Anvil could afford to have roadies. Director Sacha Gervasi is totally committed to his subject and offers the band this incredible grandiloquent homage which brings them back under the spotlights, just right where they belong. The mass-media highly praised the film which has won several prestigious prices, Anvil makes now decent money with its music and they’ve seen their status upgraded from “pathetic losers” to “absolute winners”. And it’s definitely a good thing that this story, emblematic of the immense majority of bands on this planet, has been caught on tape. Because you know, these old, ugly, bold heavy-metal guys who always did what they wanted to and never gave up will probably still rock when they’ll be uncool again. A lesson for everyone. Every musician, every human being in quest of something bigger than buying an equipped kitchen or a sport car has to watch this. Spinal Tap can suck it.

Enough said… I’m still waiting for the time when a black metal band will kick my ass, change my life, as much as Emperor did back in 1994 with “In The Nightside Eclipse”. I’ve already written quite a few words about it so I won’t be long this time, but do not forget on some occasion to light up a candle on a chilly winter night and play this most awesome record loud as fuck. Before they turned into a shitty progressive metal band, no black metal record has ever beaten that one, and if you think the opposite, well my friend i’d be much pleased to hear about it… Oh yeah, and did I mention that a proper listen must be done on vinyl?

I love metal when it’s good. The only problem is that 95% of it is total crap. Dude, admit it. But once in a while some band comes to you out of the blue for some serious ass-kicking time. And you’re like: “Fuck yeah, I love metal!”. Iron Age riffing sounds as inspired as the thrashing idols of our teen days, when “Master Of Puppets” and “Bonded By Blood” were spinning 24/7. So this is old-school yeah, but a million times better than any hipster retro-thrash bands because Iron Age does not only summon the spirit of the past but also adds some ferocious psychedelic doomy ambience to the 8 tracks of the album. And they really don’t give a damn about vintage production as well: the sound on “The Sleeping Eye” is the equivalent of a constant ice-pick attack on your neck. Sharp and limpid as hell. So it looks like tight jeans, bandana and high-top sneakers sure, but also smells like a fucking lousy basement drenched in sweat, rust and iron. “The Sleeping Eye” will sound familiar to you, it will remind you of your best memories, when you were stage-diving over your parents’ couch with two drunken friends. Now that this bullshit retro-thrash trend is coming to an end, it’s so good to stumble upon a band who doesn’t mix the fact of having influences with being a stupid parody. This is not a gimmick, this is pure fucking metal, the way it is supposed to be. Very, very good. Check this out.

Purchase it here

Honestly, I don’t think there’s a better album to walk the streets of New-York on a grey, rainy, foggy afternoon…
Cannibal Ox one and only record is undoubtedly as emblematic of its time as “Enter The Wu-Tang” was back in ‘93. A vertiginous evil opening to the 21st century, made of metal, blood and bile. The twin-towers will blow up in a few months, from their bunker in Manhattan Cannibal Ox set the scene. And unleash “Definitive Jux” golden age…
Catch your breath and press play, what you can smell right now is the imminent apocalypse that has already started to spread on the streets, a suffocating urban decadence all melted in fear, paranoia and violence. The signs are already here for those who know where to glance.
And when Vast Aire (who definitely eclipses the performance of his mate Vordull) finally grabs the mic, you’re sucked in. There’s no turning back. The 14 tracks of the album are the sick organs of the big city, never asleep, always crawling like a nest of worms, dying but refusing to die, perfused with acid and gasoline, on its way to a final, pale chemical sunset. Tales of perdition, substance abuse, poverty and New-York. New-York as a backdrop to all these subway corridors, dark alleys, devastated apartments full of mutant cockroaches and crackheads. New-York, gross and merciless for the weak. As opposed to the traditional ghetto tales in hip-hop culture, Cannibal Ox brings a sci-fi vibe taking place in the present, a soundtrack atmosphere to any K. Dick novel, where what you commonly refer as “reality” disappears as your synapses collapse. In other words: not recommended to the claustrophobic.
Cannibal Ox created a monster and still today, “The Cold Vein” and its legacy, are unmatched in indie hip-hop.

Purchase it here

Below is a small dutch documentary about “Definitive Jux” (EL-P’s label), really poorly shot but featuring a bunch of cool appearances from EL-P and Vast Aire (charismatic as fuck).

They could have repeat the same thing they did on their first acclamed LP and the fans would have been pleased, but with “Finsternis” the french occult trio decided to bring their concept to the next level.
This black monolith divided in 5 chapters, all pounded by the same drumbeat over and over (aside from an ambient interlude), stands as a long, unstoppable descent into the abyss, an invocation of some ancient evil force…
This desolate hypnotic trance is progressively haunted by layers of howling and squeaking guitars, getting more consistent as we approach the final climax. No proper riffing here, it’s all about the texture. Dense (the guitars) and minimal (the rhythmic) elements tangled up and filtered through various creepy low frequency sounds, reverb and feedback. Aluk Todolo work on a subliminal level and it’s utterly amazing to hear how deep they can get with a classic guitar/bass/drums line-up. You will surely feel the room you’re in getting darker and darker as you listen to this. If you can still mention black metal and krautrock elements as part of this experience, “Finsternis” is so uncompromised and powerful in its totality that it can be compared to anything else.
If you think “MoRT” by Blut Aus Nord was the ultimate trip to the other side, you haven’t heard nothing yet.

Purchase it here

When I was 10, “Bad Taste” was the movie you had to watch to be part of our gang. And I don’t remember how I exactly bumped into this years and years later, but when I first saw the “Horrorap Vault” cover I couldn’t believe my eyes. “Bad Taste” and hip-hop? Fuck, this is the best concept ever!!!
This series of mixtapes (real tapes, except for the fourth volume!!!) sold-out since forever is visually based on the infamous Peter Jackson movie and collect the illest hip-hop stuff you’ve ever heard. The 3 sickos behind this project go by the names of: Ice-O-Later, Franck Whyte and Dirtwolff. All the stuff is mixed on turntables with actual vinyl and filled with weird sci-fi interludes and other space shit. A lot of skill has been put into this and, in my humble opinion, this is pure genius. So, as my tapes disappeared in tragic conditions, I was more than happy to see that one of the three originators uploaded the mixtapes on his blog for a free download. The links are at the end of the article, yeah, just right after these amazing visuals that you absolutely have to check here
The Astrobastard cult must stay alive!

Our friend Brad Miller is now hosting a weekly show on Inner-X-Musick radio entitled “Cassette Culture”.
Inner-X-Musick is a label originally founded by John Zewizz (Sleepchamber, Woman Of The SS…) which recently became way more active with the arrival of a new batch of artists including Choronzon, Grammal Seizure, Veil Of Thorns, and Batcheeba. John Zewizz also hosts a show, “The John Zewizz Radio Show”, entirely dedicated to Sleepchamber. Go there if you want to give it a listen.

As the french black metal scene is way too often associated with lame trendy bands like Deathspell Omega or Antaeus, the anticipated return of Diamatregon is something more than appreciated. And damn, it’s been a long wait since “Blasphemy For Satan” came out seven years ago! “Crossroad” (an open homage to Britney Spears) is your typical Diamatregon: sick, raw, fucked-up and vicious. But between these two releases, the band members explored new occult and psychedelic territories with both Aluk Todolo and Gunslingers which brought new influences to their music. So the notable difference here is that this album is even more sick, raw, fucked-up and vicious!!! Blame it on the unconventional drum-parts, the much better work on vocals and some riffing that brings you back circa 1993, when churches were still on fire. Diamatregon manages to mix the most traditional aspects of BM with some nasty fuzzy drone moods, hypnotic and minimal garage tones. But even if things get slower here and there, “Crossroad” always keeps this harsh edge all the way. And through some structures that might sound simple at first emerge a dangerously dark texture that will sneak mercilessly into your mind… Plus the artwork is really great, totally D.I.Y style and punk as fuck.
So don’t believe what the promo line says: there’s no blues at all in this album. Just furious, chaotic & devastating black metal with huge chunks of weirdness… Just awesome.

Purchase CD here
Purchase LP here
Purchase tape here

Super SS (from Brazil) was the only cool band tonight. Not that the other ones were technically bad but you get the picture… So what really happened here? Hard to describe. Something evil, noisy, ineffable, just like if the cenobites were too bored in hell and decided to come back to earth to make a band. Yeah, they would call that band Super SS. And beat the shit out of you. The show only lasted 20 minutes but, believe me, these were 20 minutes of pure sonic armageddon. And by seeing their attitude on stage, these guys are way more pissed off than you are. No doubt about it. When you perform extreme harsh noise, that’s definitely a good thing i’d say… All these harsh noise wannabes can pack up their gear, here’s the real deal folks. I have one complaint though: where was the fucking dolphin? Looking forward to see these guys again. You should too.

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Beautiful venue, big crowd… The first coming in France of our norwegian avant-garde heroes was more than expected to say the least. No disappointment here, the show was totally great, starting with a Palpatine look-a-like Attila Csihar (AKA Void Of Voices) using a single mic and a few effects to summon his infamous satanic gospel. And what about this exquisite hungarian accent, uh?
“Ulver – The rest is silence”. Garm, Tore, Jorn, the new recruit Daniel O Sullivan and their musicians gave us a little bit more than an hour (did i mention the show was too short?) of beautiful, mysterious, tragic music with high-quality scenography (stunning visuals, neon tubes…). No room for improvisation here, everything is firmly in place, definitely not a rock n’ roll show fellas. But you can easily imagine (or not) the challenge to re-create such a music on stage, and Ulver did it without giving us the image of four guys hidden behind their laptops. Well done.

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New release from Amortout with Obscure’s DVD entitled “Le Cathodator”. A 15 minutes movie that has been selected in three festivals so far including Lausanne Underground Film & Music Festival. You can check a few stills from the movie below. Obscure is about fanaticism only.
Order it here.