RECORDS

RECORDS

YNGWIE TO TIPPERARY

RISING FORCE Yngwie Malmsteen

(Polydor)

The future of heavy metal wears...red nail polish?

That’s the image on the cover of Yngwie Malmsteen’s American debut, Rising Force; a well-manicured hand gripping a battered, puke-yellow Stratocaster out of the fire.

But you need only flip the cover to realize our boy Yngwie (Ing-vay) is a man in the pure metal sense of the word. Open shirt, widemouth grimace, flailing at a guitar behind his back. This is the stuff that’s earned him the coveted title of the most-imported heavy metal artist in America.

Oy vei, Yngwie.

Funny, then, that Rising Force sounds not like the new face of metal but more like a continuation of the Gothic-rock tradition started by Jimmy Page, Ritchie Blackmore, Tony lommi and any other British guitarist who’s lived in an old castle or tried to recreate Bach, Beethoven and Mozart licks on their axes.

The cover graphics are even done in hardto-read (see if you can figure out this guy’s middle initial) Olde English lettering.

Yngwie, of course, puts a new twist on all this; Rising Force is mostly instrumental. And it’s not hard to guess why after listening to singer Jeff Scott Soto's brief appearances on “Now Your Ships Are Burned” and “As Above, So Below." The man only looks good in comparison to Yngwie’s lyric-writing skill, which make the guys in AC/DC or Motley Crue look like Graham Greene.

When he settles down to just playing guitar, however, Yngwie has the potential to be to heavy metal what Jeff Beck was to jazz-rock fusion on Blow By Blow and Wired, establishing the guitar as an instrumental voice that dominates the rhythm and melody. If, as an intelligent human, you ask yourself what the heck is an Astral Sky?, you must not feel the least bit naive for asking. Undoubtedly you’ve pulled out your handy copy of the New World Dictionary Of The American Language and discovered that "astral” means "of, from or like the stars.” So what Uli Jon Roth is talking about on this, his new album, is beyond the skies of, from or like the stars. Assuming you’re intelligent enough to read this magazine and, indeed, my review, need I state that it is widely held that space itself is infinite? And that to deal with concepts like "beyond” space is an actual contradiction in terms?

Yngwie’s playing consists mostly of notes rather than power chords, and he’s more concerned with expression than speed. It works best on songs like "Black Star,” “Far Beyond The Sun” and “Little Savage," where he rides a solid bottom of bass (which he plays) and Barriemore Barlow (ex-Jethro Tull) drums.

Then again, it sputters on the vocal numbers and “Icarus Dream Opus,” a long, overblown suite that mixes a textbook full of hooks and riffs in everything-but-the-kitchen-sink-andbathroom-plunger fashion.

His best playing, however, comes when he picks up the classical guitar. The introduction to “Black Star,” a brief piece called “Farewell” and even portions of “Icarus Dream Opus” show Yngwie to be as proficient on that instrument as he is with an electric guitar and a stack of Marshall amps.

And with that kind of skill, he can put any color of nail polish he wants on his album covers.

Gary Graff

ULI JOHN ROTH/ ELECTRIC SUN Beyond The Astral Skies

(Capitol)

Probably not. Because, as fans of metal, we know our physics, astrophysics and stuff that's just made up because it sounds neat. Since, however, we are dealing with Uli Jon Roth, who is German—and, of course, used to be in the Scorpions before they went pop—we must take into account that some stuff that sounds neat to German guys sounds pretty dippy to us, as devil-may-care Americans. Thus, if one is prepared to tackle Beyond The Astral Skies on its own terms—that is to say, if we might refrain from laughing when we dutifully read each and every couplet generously printed on the album's inner sleeve—one might very conceivably decide it’s a very respectable album from a guy who makes no sense at all.

It sounds pretty neat, too. Uli—henceforth UJR—has obviously spent a great deal of time and energy in putting together this album, and it shows. For starters, it’s a concept album; when was the last time any band the least bit associated with current metal had the ability to string together two sentences, let alone an entire LP’s worth of songs? If you're smart, and make a point of not really listening to some of UJR’s hippie-dippy concepts—just accept the fact that the man’s writing stuff that’s supposed to "answer" all this devil-worship stuff being produced by today’s metaspuds—and just give the man’s guitar playing a listen, you’re sure to say to anyone nearby: "I think Uli Jon Roth is a fine guitarist—though he occasionally shows the influence of Jimi Hendrix perhaps a bit more than he should—and I’d be willing to kill you if you, or anyone like you, dares to disagree.” But—be careful! It’s dangerous to threaten people!

Yet isn’t all this off the beaten track? Indeed so. Nonetheless, it introduces my next paragraph.

Frankly, I have a newfound respect for Uli Jon Roth. I am grateful that there are people like him out there—people who put this much care, craftsmanship and actual love into their work. I do think, however, that Roth’s decision to produce his own album wasn’t exactly wise—as respectable as the music is, the sound lacks a certain bite that a top-flight producer might've provided. But considering that there are at least five European recording studios credited, perhaps the man had no choice but to "go his own way.”

In total, this album is superior metal, played the way it should be played. There is melodylots, in fact—there is superb musicianship, and there is an intelligence at work throughout that does not condescend to the listener. In fact, for all the ambition on display here, one might justifiably compare Roth’s work to one of the early 70s Yes albums: metal art-rock would be the appropriate term. And unlike others who’ve attempted similar mergers in the past—specifically Rush—there are no yelps, squeals or shrieks by bass players who should never be singing in the first place. I recommend this album wholeheartedly to people who think contemporary metal is effortless crap put forth by sludge-mongering morons.

By the way, do you like my new shoes?

Martin Dio

WHITE WOLF Standing Alone

(RCA)

One of the stupidest aspects of this whole heavy metal trip is that the bands feel they have to portray this horror/‘‘Prince Of Darkness’VGrade B monster movie image or “mystique.” Everyone’s got a gimmick—and none of them are the least bit original or interesting to anyone who likes a little thought with their rock ’n' roll.

Take this band called White Wolf (pleaseI). After listening to the opening title track on their debut LP, one might be inclined to say these guys aren’t that bad. That is, they aren’t bad when compared to a lot of the other bands in this genre. The tune is melodic, the guitar work is pretty good, and, while the lyrics aren’t exactly great literature, they refrain from the devil imagery or “I’m gonna make the bitch bloody” message which is so prevalent in most metal today. Of course, the singing leaves a lot to be desired—another in the seemingly neverending line of wimpy (and grating) falsettos. But what the hell. You can’t have everything.

But then the guys go and ruin it by subscribing to the image. It’s seen first in the album cover: a truly hideous drawing of a beast that is part wolf, part rodent, part lizard. Naturally, the beast is dripping blood from its mouth (better a beast than Blackie Lawless), and it’s wearing an armored vest which outlines a pair of female breasts. I mean, these guys manage to get all the cliches down in one picture. It has nothing to do with the songs on the record, of course—but it sure is ugly\

None of the other tracks are as melodic as “Standing Alone”—but then I’ve listened to enough new metal to realize that melody isn’t what the average headbanger is looking for these days. They’re looking for “Metal Thunder,” maan—one of the titles here. The title’s there, but you won’t find a lot of “thunder” in the chops on display. Then there’s “Shadows In The Night,” which aspires to horror movie status with its “eyes of the cat” imagery. Stephen King writes scary things about cats (he might even compose some fine heavy metal lyrics, come to think of it). White Wolf merely write wimpy cliches. And then there’s “What The War Will Bring,” without a doubt the stupidest song on this LP. It aspires to early Black Sabbath, but Jackson Browne has come up with scarier songs than this. See, this war has something to do with the “Prince Of Darkness”—and the guys sing: “I know what the war will bring/lt will bring you to your knees/I wonder what the war will bring (didn’t they just sing that they already know?)/It will make you beg and scream.” Don’t wanna disillusion you, guys, but if and when the kind of war you’re singing about ever comes, there won’t be time to beg, scream or fall to your knees. A really stupid song, apocalypse or no apocalypse.

In line with the cliches, my copy of Standing Alone features a sticker on the cover which reads: “WARNING: DO NOT PLAY DURING A FULL MOON. We will not be held reponsible for the consequences.” Ooooo, I be scared! Anyway, I decided to play it during a full moon, and take my chances, and see what would happen. Played the first side, said to myself, “This sure is boring, not to mention a bit on the depressing side,” took it off watched Johnny Carson’s opening monolog, brushed my teeth, went to bed, fell asleep, dreamt of lobotomized A&R departments. The End.

Jesse Grace

MAMA’S BOYS Power And Passion

(Jive/Arista)

Ah, the things a mother will love.

Consider Mama McManus, living on some remote farm in Northern Ireland. Here she has three boys—good boys, we’re sure—to help with the milking of cows and pruning of sheep and boiling of potatoes and whatever else they do there.

Whenever Pat, John and Tommy wanted to kick back and get funky, they’d pick up the fiddles, banjos and acoustic guitars and go play gigs and cajun tunes at the local Celtic throwdowns. Maybe they sipped a wee bit of the ol’ Crawford’s whiskey, too. But don't tell mom.

Before long, however, she had to cope with rock ’n’ roll. Loud rock ’n’ roll, to boot. The kind of stuff that makes the wool scoot from the backs of the sheep. The McManuses probably had trouble waking up because the rooster left to go find some family that played Van Morrison records.

And then there's that new-wave look, the shades, the skinny leather ties, the vests and patterned shirts. What’s a poor mother to do?

Well, Mama McManus can be proud of her boys now. Their debut disc was hot, no doubt about that. There were reasons why Quiet Riot called radio stations around the country to urge them not to play the McManus’s version of Slade’s “Mama Weer All Crazee Now,” superior to Q.R.’s version in every way.

Power And Passion only improves on the first record, continuing to showcase the guitar prowess of Pat—nicknamed “The Professor,” though mom would probably be happier if he were teaching history in Dublin—but also revealing the trio’s maturing songwriting skills. None of the nine songs on this disc sound terribly original, but they definitely sound like they’re more “in the tradition” of a genre than outright plagiarism.

Pat’s guitar playing is still the group’s foundation. He comes up with nice blues-rock riffs (reminiscent of Aerosmith) for “Hard & Loud” and “Needle In The Groove," and while there’s some slick, almost formulaic soloing on the title track, “Run” and “Lettin’ Go,” he proves he can still crash and burn with the best of them on the instrumental “The Professor II.” But where these histrionics often made the songs on the first album, they’ve become just one element the trio can count on for Power And Passion. The songwriting has taken a turn towards the melodic while still retaining the craft and guts lesser groups like Ratt tend to leave out. The hint of keyboards give “Don’t Tell Mama” and “Needle In The Groove” an added texture, while "Hard & Loud,” “Let’s Get High" and “Straightforward” keep the crunch intact.

So mama, it’s okay to let your babies grow up to be rock stars. Now pass the sheep dip.

Gary Graff

ROGUE MALE First Visit

(Elektra)

MARTIN: This is a fascinating record. One of the most fascinating aspects of it is that it’s 12 inches.

JESSE: Uh, the first song was pretty good— "Crazy Motorcycle”—it’s sort of a cliche. Remember Montrose’s “Get On My Bad Motor Scooter And Ride”?

MARTIN: Do you think it’d be possible to ascribe qualities like "craziness” to inanimate objects like motorcycles, and do you think it’s worthwhile to do?

HAL: It’s worthwhile. I think it’s legitimate. It’s done all the time.

JESSE: Many records are evil.

MARTIN: Do you think Rogue Male is evil? JESSE: Naw, I don’t really think so. I mean, we all sorta agreed that first song was pretty good.

MARTIN: Then what happened when we played the other song?

JESSE: Well, we didn’t like the rest of it. HAL: Well, the third song wasn’t that bad. JESSE: Yeah, the third song was OK, too. You said, “this is good ole rock ’n' roll,” Hal. Or something like that.

MARTIN: But it seems to me like we’re not really enthusiastic here. Why is that?

JESSE: Well, the point is that if you’ve got one good song—the one song we all agreed on— and then we said the third one wasn’t bad...that’s a better ratio than most of the heavy metal albums we’ve been listening to. HAL: Naw, I think it’s because we’ve listened to Slayer and Venom and bands that were better at doing the same thing than Rogue Male is trying to do.

MARTIN: Yeah, I’d have to agree. Let’s look at it from the standpoint of uniqueness. Is the guy’s voice unique? No.

JESSE: He sounds like Lemmy.

HAL: We all know he sounds like Lemmy. And you know too, Jim—you’re the singer by the way, Jim, and I’m talking to you now. So listen, fool: you sound too much like Lemmy. MARTIN: What’s his last name?

HAL: Little.

MARTIN: How do you spell it?

HAL: L-Y-T-T-L-E.

MARTIN: Imagine if he had a brother named Richard.

JESSE: It would be Dick Little. There’s a guy in the town that I used to live in that owns a place called “Face’s Lounge,” and his name was Richard Face. And he always went by the name Richard. ’Cause if he didn’t he would have been Dick Face!

MARTIN: Speaking of Dickface, this picture on the cover is pretty strange. Apparently it’s Jim Lyttle himself, as an artist views Jim. I guess it’s some sort of cybotron with wires hanging out. I guess we’re supposed to assume that Jim Lyttle is actually a mechanical creature. HAL: This is such a tired idea—it’s hard to believe that Elektra would let this go out as album art. But I’ll talk to them later, personally. MARTIN: They may not call today. Because we have a heavy schedule with Atlantic.

JESSE: Why are these heavy metal guys getting into this ugliness concept? That album cover compared to a lot of others isn’t really that bad. The album cover’s ugly...

MARTIN: It’s not offensive. It borders on like... HAL: I think there’s another point, too, you know? I mean, is this album really metal? MARTIN: It’s probably more hard rock in a sense—like a band like Nazareth was hard rock.

JESSE: I don’t know. They’re harder than Nazareth.

MARTIN: You're thinking of “Love Hurts”— because you have a sissified notion of what Nazareth was like.

JESSE: That’s not true.

HAL: I think that’s well-known, actually. You do indeed have a sissified attitude.

MARTIN: If I remember correctly from our last review, weren’t you reading about new music bands when Hal and I were listening to heavy metal. Some heavy, heavy metal?

HAL: Some hardcore metal?

MARTIN: Some of the heaviest?

JESSE: You guys said they sound like Motorhead. Motorhead’s about as hard as you can get. And that’s what they’re trying to mimic.

HAL: In fact, Jim says in their bio that the only metal bands he likes are Metallica and Motorhead.

MARTIN: Hey, those are two pretty good bands!

HAL: The two M’s!

MARTIN: Wait, the phone’s ringing, let me go get it.

HAL: Yeah, see what’s going on.

MARTIN: This might be Elektra! (leaves room) MARTIN: (returns) Hal, it’s your wife!

HAL: Is it really? Why is she calling me in the middle of a review?

MARTIN: Maybe she doesn’t want you to listen to Rogue Male!

HAL: Mmmm.

MARTIN: Or maybe she’s involved with a rogue male of her own!

JESSE: She’s upset ’cause you didn’t give her a thorough bonin’.

MARTIN: Let’s hope Hal’s wife don’t be areadin’ Metal Rock ’N’ Roll.

HAL: Well, that’s all right, you know, in-jokes and all.

MARTIN: Well, I’ll put heron hold. (Halleaves room)

MARTIN: (Halreturns) Well, did you talk to her? HAL: Yeah, I talked to her. I guess what happened was, she’s getting tired of Jesse calling up and wanting to borrow her dresses. MARTIN: Gosh, Jesse—I should’ve never gone on that metal trip a couple of months ago! JESSE: That’s just the thing, you know. She’s called me up and asked me to come over and said, “Hal would never wear these dresses. And if you wear these dresses...” Well, I can’t tell you the rest.

MARTIN: Hal, when you get down to it, the fact that Jesse’s admitting to having worn dresses is a good step toward an imminent recovery. And, speaking of dresses, there’s a song called “Dressed Incognito”—it’s the first song on the second side. I think we should explain to the readers that we don’t bother to... JESSE: Yeah, but Hal hasn’t mentioned that they’re his dresses!

MARTIN: You know what they say, “in brightest day, in darkest night.”

HAL: (to Jesse) You are such a fag, I can’t believe it! I mean, / don’t go out with girls with mohawks.

MARTIN: And not only that, but when my phone rings, I get up and answer it.

JESSE: But you don’t know what a feisty experience it can be, ’til you lick one of those shaved heads!

HAL: I think one of the things about this album that I noticed right away—there’s only one song that’s under three minutes, and there’s like four or five that are over four minutes long. MARTIN: Aye, lad, there’s just “Unemployment,” which is just two minutes and 50 seconds.

HAL: But that was kind of a crummy song. Humdrum, run-of-the-mill, you might say. MARTIN: I’ll tell you what. It looks like we’re running out of vital things to say about Rogue Male, so let’s just make some statements about what we’d rather do than listen to Rogue Male.

JESSE: I’d rather go across the street and have one of those soft-serve ice creams in a freshly cooked waffle.

MARTIN: That sounds pretty interesting. JESSE: I’d rather go over to Hal’s wife and be with his wife and wear her dresses. No, his dresses.

HAL: And I’d rather be there with a camera. MARTIN: I think that rather than listen to Rogue Male, I’d like to do my income taxes. HAL: Yeah, we’re not too excited about these guys.

MARTIN: There must be something good about them.

JESSE: We don’t hate them, though. You haven’t said yet that they should be killed. HAL: Well, I don’t think they should be killed. MARTIN: Maybe there’s something else... HAL: These guys are Irish.

JESSE: Yeah, maybe they’re associated with Fiona. Fiona was on American Bandstand, I think we should tell the readers that. And she looked wonderful. Mahvelous. Dick Clark even made a comment about it. And, if Dick Clark happens to be reading this, we think he did a good job getting her. And next week he should have the Mighty Belfegore!

MARTIN: Listen, did he happen to make a comment about Fiona’s dress?

JESSE: I didn’t notice Fiona’s dress. I just noticed.

MARTIN: Your eyes must’ve been obscured. I guess the thing here is, there’s no real excitement for Rogue Male now, because we have other things on our minds that are more important than Rogue Male.

HAL: Well, if this was as arresting as say, Belfegore, then we’d have good things to say!

MARTIN: What could make this record better? If they were Belfegore, or if they did the "Mule Song...”

JESSE: I was just gonna say, if they did the “Mule Song.”

HAL: I don’t know. I don’t think they could do it that well.

MARTIN: He doesn’t have a “Mule Song” voice. Hey, you know, we didn’t listen to “Get Off My Back.” That might be similar, in terms of sentiment, to the “Mule Song.”

JESSE: You don’t think they could do it as good as Champion Jack Dupree?

HAL: I think the readers would back me on this...I think by now, they know that Jack Dupree’s version of the “Mule Song” is indeed the best.

MARTIN: I was down in the record store the other day, talking to many of my heavy metal fans, who come and ask me questions about metal, and they asked me how to obtain Champion Jack Dupree’s recording of the “Mule Song.” There are a lot of people who want to know this—and, in fact, to the people who are willing to write to METAL, I could explain it. But on the basis of how Champion Jack was deprived of his royalties, and he now lives in poverty, I think it would be best if we kept that under wraps.

HAL: Is it fair—that we, of the triumvirate of metal knowledge—keep it to ourselves? MARTIN: I think for now, yes. Until we listen to a metal record that makes all of us uniformly declare “This music is better than Belfegore, better than the ‘Mule Song’”—only then will we allow all our readers to obtain both the “Mule Song” and the new Belfegore record that we know of!

HAL: I think that since this is gonna be a short review, we should address the fact that what a service we’re doing the readers. And maybe tell them a little bit about ourselves. MARTIN: Speaking of a dress—Jesse likes to wear them!

JESSE: I think we should mention that the other day we were down in one of the stores in Birmingham and we met one of heavy metal’s biggest fans.

MARTIN: Oh, is that the fellow that saw the Rocky Horror Picture Show “over a thousand times, literally”?

JESSE: Yes. And he was trying to impress the new wave girls by announcing all the heavy metal shows he’s been to.

HAL: It’s really a burden, ’cause he could probably identify us right away as the guys who know all about heavy metal. The real metal. What it is. How to find it.

MARTIN: Well, he could identify you and me, Hal— but of course, let’s not forget Jesse had a stack of ballet and opera records.

JESSE: We were down there a couple of days later...

HAL: Not to mention his U2 T-shirt.

JESSE: You’re Hal, right? Who are you? (looks at Martin)

MARTIN: I’m your mother. Stop wearing those dresses!

JESSE: I think the readers should be well aware by now that these guys are two of the most homophobic guys that you would ever want to know.

MARTIN: Incidentally, readers, you’d be happy to know that Jesse is afraid of homos! HAL: And he’s afraid of AIDS, too! So, I guess there’s sort of a link there!

JESSE: These guys...they think, their biggest jokes are about homos and, god forbid, women. There’s something wrong with these guys. They feel threatened.

MARTIN: Gee, Hal, there’s one thing here I’m noticing. We may feel that way, yet, we don’t feel inclined to don women's dresses each night when we come home from a hard day at the factory!

JESSE: I don’t don ... I don’t don... I don’t don women's clothing!

HAL: Our jokes involve homos and women...in fact, we're talking about him\ So, therefore, you are describing yourself as a homo and/or a woman.

JESSE: The only time I've ever donned a dress—and it’s not necessarily a woman's dress—is whenever Hal or Martin’s wife calls me over and needs a thorough bonin’! MARTIN: I think that the readers should know that Hal and Martin’s wives are two separate women. It’s important they realize this. JESSE: That’s true.

MARTIN: But we may be rambling. So let’s close this up with, I guess, solicitations to our wonderful readers, who’ve kept us in business. Incidentally, in the last mail sack, we took a vote, so to speak, about who got the most praise, and it’s sorta uniformly distributed. I think there were 700 votes for me. And maybe like 550 for one of the other guys. And 720 for the other. We’ll keep you in suspense for now, readers. But, basically, thanks for all the cards and letters and to the guy in Omaha who sent us that money. We can’t do much with it, but we’ll put it in a safe place, and maybe in a couple of years...

HAL: Just a postcard would be sufficient. Just to know that you’re reading us, you know. That’d be fine. I guess we just enjoy our jobs, basically. We just like coming here and reviewing these metal records.

MARTIN: If there’s any records that you readers would like us to review, we’d be more than happy to do it. That’s all I can say. Just send in that request with a few dollars and we’ll be happy to have it in an issue in the next three years!

Martin Dio, Jesse Grace & Hal Jordan