RECORDS

RECORDS

SEE SAMMY RUN

SAMMY HAGAR

(Geffen)

Here's a new album from Mr. Generic, Sammy Hagar. He’s the boy next door, having a great time performing good-natured rock. The disc has a playful live-in-the-studio feel, and the good songs, upbeat group vocals, and generally high spirits make for an engaging summertime record.

Nowadays, Hagar’s career is doing rather well, thank you, what with him fronting the commercial (and occasionally musically-adept) Van Halen. After the inner sleeve’s instrumental and recording credits, which prominently peg Edward Van Halen as co-producer and bassist (don’t get excited, fans, he doesn’t try to steal the show, though he does make himself heard), and after the Special Thanks section, which lists Alex Van Halen and Michael Anthony, Sammy sends a personal howdy to the fans that have remained loyal despite all the changes. Will somebody please give me a break? So the immediate feel of this album is “Local boy makes good but remains smalltown, he just buzzes Main Street in a red Trans Am instead of a red Mustang.”

Speaking of driving, there’s a song about speeding in a car called “Privacy,” in which our hero insinuates that it’s his constitutional right to exceed the speed limit. It’s a cool song, one to which I’m sure many people can relate. Let’s hear it for individual freedom!

“Boys’ Night Out” sounds like 30-yearolds acting 20, which I guess is what boys’ night out is all about when you reach that age. It’s a wild romp of a song; it gets me going, at any rate, and makes me feel good. Wow—what a cool concept! Sammy actually makes me smile with this one, and I appreciate that. Sometimes art can be truly amazing.

“Once Upon Returning Home” features a choirish vocal refrain reminiscent of “progressive” acts like Yes and Kansas, but ends in a jamfest. The opener, “When the Hammer Falls,” is a heavy tune about karma and how you’ll get what’s coming to you.

I don’t have much patience with megamellow stuff like “Hands And Knees.” “Back Into You” is remarkably similar to Journey’s “Stoned In Love.” “Eagles Fly” begins prettily, then unleashes a giant riff. The vocal melodies on this song are quite beautiful, and I quite like it. It’ll probably end up as an Air Force recruiting ad.

Sammy peppers his music with respectable guitar playing. He mixes his rhythms with lots of lead work, including some tasty slide work. Side 2, in fact, opens with Sam the Everyman soloing; the brief “Standin’ At The Same Old Crossroads” consists of Sam’s down-home electric slide geetar saddled with his breathy, bluesy, vocalized pain.

All of this is positively safe, and makes for a nice change from a steady diet of speedmetal. I guess you could listen to Sammy Hagar to clear your palate between doses of Blood Feast and Death Angel. Here’s summer music suitable for the family picnic. ’Nother rib, Uncle Ed? Gimme a beer!

Jeff Clark

JUDAS PRIEST

Priest.. .Live!

(Columbia)

First off, the most striking thing about Priest. . . Live! is how strange it sounds. I mean, this has definitely got one of the least convincing crowd-noise-to-music relationships in the entire sorry history of live double albums. The “audience” sounds so distant and unreal that it could have been lifted from a decades-old special-effects disc, and the band sounds suspiciously smooth—too slick to really seem live, but too undynamic to resemble your typical studio-post-tinkered concert recording. In fact, Priest. . . Live! puts one in mind of those awful old ’60s “live” albums where they grafted pre-recorded applause onto studio tracks.

Its bizarre production approach gives Priest. . . Live! a somewhat surrealistic ambience that makes listening to it a vaguely uncomfortable experience, especially in light of the band’s immensely superior 1979 live collection, Unleashed The East. But Priest. . . Live! is meant as a summary of the fivesome’s lucrativebut-dull ’80s phase, so you probably weren’t expecting anything earth-shattering anyway.

For all their tightness, professionalism and onstage pyrotechnics, Judas Priest have never been a particularly innovative or adventurous bunch, and they’ve grown more conservative as they’ve become more popular. The material contained here stems mainly from the band’s most recent LPs, and it’s a representative sampling of Priest’s efficiently crafted, desperately butch, post-British Steel direction. Mock-malevolent anthems like “Breaking the Law,” “You’ve Got Another Thing Cornin’ ” and “Some Heads Are Gonna Roll” (ooh, we’re shakin’) are way too goofy to take seriously and too selfconscious to work as parody—the kids seem to love em though (those who follow such things will also want to note that the band has wimpily omitted “Eat Me Alive,” apparently to keep the PMRC off their backs). Meanwhile, the group’s undeniable instrumental kick is squandered due to the screwy production.

Although the album’s back cover maintains that Priest. . . Live! is “dedicated to you, our fans,” the evidence in the grooves marks this economy-sized turkey as just another cynical attempt by another bunch of wealthy rock stars to sap their young fans’ pocket money. It’s a shame because, as dopey as they can be, Judas Priest are an imposing live act and—as proven on Unleashed In The East— they’re more than capable of putting together a solid concert album. But Priest. . . Live! is a lamentable mess that’s as insulting to the band as it is to their fans. Ignore that exclamation point.

Alexandra Staunton-James

OVER KILL

Taking Over (Megaforce/Atlantic)

TESTAMENT

The Legacy

(Megaforce/Atlantic)

Well, well, here we are with a coupla releases from the so-called "second generation” of thrash metal—those bands who are trying to follow in the footsteps of the Big Four—Metallica, Slayer, Anthrax and Megadeth. Interestingly enough, the label both these groups are on is the same label that launched Metallica and Anthrax four years ago.

Good ol’ Johnny Z has taken a few giant steps for himself lately as well, getting his Megaforce stable hitched to Atlantic and enjoying their money and distribution. The question now is: can these second wave speedmetal outfits do as well for Z as his first two finds?

The answer is maybe—but that doesn’t stop Atlantic from having two damn fine records on their hands. First up is the New York outfit Over Kill, who show tremendous development on this record, their second. Feel The Fire (issued by Megaforce back in '85 before the entire label was signed to a major) was an OK debut let down by crappy production. Over Kill know that and have taken pains to make sure that this album hits you like a slab of lead, heavy and pounding—and, yes, you love every minute of it.

Aside from the more powerful sound, Over Kill also have clearly developed a style of their own. The music is a kind of hybrid of Sabbath, Metallica and early Priest, with the lommi-like riffing dominant on “Over Kill II,” “Fear His Name” and “Use Your Head.” The songs also have a more dramatic urgency to them, especially the frantic opener, “Deny The Cross.” But the real key to the Over Kill sound is vocalist Bobby “Blitz" Ellsworth, whose power, range, and presence is felt in every song. He can go from down-anddirty screams (the aforementioned “Cross”) to an operatic peak (“Over Kill II”) with the strain hardly showing.

“In Union We Stand” is a bit too pumpyour-fist-in-the-airfor my taste, and “Electro-Violence” also gets lost in a tootangled mass of riffs, but otherwise, Taking Over is a fine progression for New York’s finest.

Testament, however, go even further. Taking their nod from Metallica (of course) and Exodus, this San Francisco quintet just lets loose with an awesome barrage of riffs and memorable solos that are so wonderfully heavy and intricate that you’ll wonder where these guys have been hiding. The vocals from Chuck Billy are gruffer than those of Over Kill (and a little less original), but the guy’s still got plenty of depth. There are time changes aplenty, solid rhythm section work, and enough variety and pacing among the tracks to easily make this my second favorite thrash metal album of the year so far (Artillery’s Terror Squad on Neat is first).

Both Testament’s outing (their debut, I should add) and Over Kill’s were produced by Alex Perialis, who’s quickly getting a fine rep in metal circles. It’s up to Atlantic now to market this stuff correctly and try to get the mainstream metal fans to buy it. For my money, those kids couldn’t go wrong with either one.

Don Kaye

Y & T

Contagious

(Geffen)

A few years ago I bought Y & T’s Earthshaker album on their reputation as a wild bunch who featured a rad guitarist. They were formerly called Yesterday & Today, or Yesterday & Tomorrow, or something like that; I know the word “yesterday” figured prominently, and it still does. The guitar work on cuts like “Hurricane” and “Squeeze” was amazing enough to make me look to the band to become heavyweight contenders in the future. But alas, presumably in quest for dollars, the group became wimpier, releasing cold wax like Mean Streak. I guess going commercial still means severely limiting the axeman, adding keyboards, paying closer attention to vocals, and just basically lightening up. Sounds sorta anti-metal, don’t it? Well, if they get any lighter on their next LP they’ll probably blow away.

The big deal about Y & T used to be Dave Meniketti’s lead guitaring. The dude was bad! Dive bombing runs and quick flurries of fiery notes jump off Earthshaker and land right in your face. “Exhilarating” was the word, and Dave’s Les Paul screamed it. On top of that, he was the lead singer, too.

Priorities have obviously changed over the years. Now, Meniketti’s the lead singer, and on top of that, he’s the lead guitarist, too. He’s still a fine lead player, it’s just not as readily apparent ’cause the guy’s so restrained. A metal band cutting down on the guitar. . .hmmm. . .something’s wrong here, no? The emphasis is clearly on vocals, lead and background. The group vocals on the title track (“Hey hey hey,” then “Ohh ohh ohh”) and a couple other tracks are pretty good. The chorus is particularly catchy on “Bodily Harm.” There’s gotta be some scrap of musical terminology for the tricky way they say “bodily” first one way and then quicker and with a slightly different pronunciation the next, but I’m clueless.

The musicians are all competent, the production is splendid, and the songs are unimaginative, to say the least. Contagious is solid evidence that 1970s posturing rock boredom is still alive.

Now for the good—or better—news. There are two songs that warrant some of my elusive praise—“L.A. Rocks” and “The Kid Goes Crazy.” Lyrically they're almost the same song, concerned with being rich and partying in Los Angeles and nearby Hollywood, respectively. The weird part is that on these two numbers Y & T pretend they’re Van Halen. It seems as if young D.M. never learned the important lesson that everyone is special, and each individual is significant in his own right, so you should just be yourself and your own unique specialness will shine through. Instead, he tries to be cool by posing as David Lee Roth. That’s better than copying a lot of other people, I suppose—at least he’s not aping Vince Neil! I sense the Roth bit came easy for Meniketti (his name’s already Dave), but like any imitation, it’s not altogether satisfying: it’s still an imitation. You can almost see him in the studio going “OK, I’ll put another ‘whoa’ right here, and then a short ‘whoo’ right before the chorus...” It’s so programmed you wonder if the band is having any fun. “L.A.” even has a slow part where Dave talks a la the other Dave, over a quiet guitar part that sounds like a rough draft of “Dance The Night Away.” In the vein of “Beautiful Girls,” these songs are likeable—you dig Van Halen, right? Whoa!

The rest of the album is commercial pop garbage, and Y & T knows it. They’re trying for the big bucks and they’re not gonna get them because kids can tell a fake. They’re everything I hate about pop music, but with a metal edge, and that doesn’t endear them to me one bit. “Eyes Of A Stranger,” which in my opinion should be poked out, aims at young female hearts, so you’ll have to ask a chick if the tune strikes home. “Armed And Dangerous” is about a girl whose “every move is a crime,” and the title is repeated about 100 times. This is arena rock for the ’80s. It sucks. Unless Y & T goes back to its original, exciting, guitaroriented approach, the band will surely die a deserved death.

Jeff Clark

KING DIAMOND

Abigail

(Roadracer)

A metal band based in Copenhagen? Sure, why not? While it’s true that there haven’t been many Danish rockers who’ve made an international impact since Savage Rose’s brief, late-’60s breakthrough/breakdown, the times could be right, what with Europe showing the mass metal audience that the cultural distance between Scandinavia and the Jersey Coast can be totally insignificant.

Of course this group is not exactly as pop as Europe, although they’re certainly shooting for megasuccess. They’ve got slick-evil image marketing and they’ve got effective sound production. They’ve also got a Problem.

This Problem has nothing to do with the band’s instrumental attack. They favor a double-lead guitar approach that could have been conceived next dungeon to Iron Maiden. Their arrangements contrast harmony sections with fiery leads; both Michael Denner and Andy LaRocque are above-average soloists and work well as a team. The most obvious difference from Maiden is how the bottom is treated: Mikkey Dee’s bass drum is usually more prominent in the mix than Timi Hansen’s bass guitar.

THE READER’S REVIEW

GIRLSCHOOL

Nightmare At Maple Cross

(GWR import)

I’ve always been intrigued by female rockers. Always. I mean, Heart was a big thing in my life, way before the days of the Go-Go’s. It must be that I just plain identify with women better; I grew up during the women’s lib movement, y’see. So you can imagine my ecstacy when the ’80s blossomed, the second metal wave broke out, disco broke down, the Runaways broke up, and women broke into the last bastion of unfettered masculinity. The beginning of a metalhead’s wet dream: Joan Jett, Lita Ford, Wendy O., Rock Goddess—and Girlschool.

I’ve had a bit of a love-hate relationship with the latter. I first experienced them through Screaming Blue Murder, and, being a novice metalhead and not knowing better, passed it on as “too tough.” Then I caught them on a televised international rock festival (not Donnington or Aardshok; all I know is Wolfman Jack hosted the damn thing), and I was inspired enough to latch on to Play Dirty (Kelly Johnson’s last) and its successor, Running Wild (Jackie Bodimead’s first and last), both good, standard hard rock outings, rather tame, but adequate for the time. Yet, I suspected that I hadn’t caught the true spirit of Girlschool.

Now, thanks to Bronze Records—who went out of business so GWR could sign Motorhead, do big business with Orgasmatron, and gain the impetus to give Girlschool a new lease on life too—we have Nightmare At Maple Cross, currently only available as an import but well worth the search: this baby isn’t designed so much to skewer your eardrums as to get your booty twitchin’ (and your bedsheets soakin’!). Truth is, Girlschool have always been more rock ’n’ roll than metal, and I shudder to think of the hordes of Metallicas, Slayers and Anthraxes not giving this band its due. Fortunately, the AC/DCs and Aerosmiths are quite numerous too, so there’s hope.

So what do you get? Only the rockingest, most infectious set of tunes Misses McAuliffe, Bonacci, WestonJones and Dufort have come up with ever. “All Day All Night” kicks off with a football chant chorus (“All day/OK!/AII night/AII right!”); the rockabilly-tinged “Tiger Feet,” which pulls an “I Love It Loud” at the end just before closing with a fart (honest!); and I dare you to sit still during “Danger Sign”! It should be noted that Gary “Part 1 ” Glitter, with whom the girls recorded a single last year—“I’m The Leader Of The Gang (I Am)”—has had more than a small influence on this record, especially on “Danger Sign” and the closer “Turn It Up” with Maggie Thatcher reciting (sic) “One, two buckle my shoe?” He’p!

The real reason for Nightmare’s allaround coolness, though, might be the band’s attitude. Remember that “too tough” accusation earlier in the review? This is the first Girlschool project I’ve heard where the girls aren’t trying to sound like guys—so it comes across as more relaxed, and, hopefully, the listener can relax too. Plus, the fact that they finally found a sympathetic producer in Vic Maile doesn’t hurt.

If I can find more girls that rock like Girlschool, this metalhead may just drown before he wakes up. ..!!

Robert Hertweck

King Diamond himself, the vocalist, is evidently a highly talented individual. He’s an experienced lead singer, fronting Mercyful Fate for several years before transforming them into this present band, and has a striking visual presence, somewhat in the tradition of Kiss or Arthur Brown. Besides producing Abigail (with the help of various group members), he also wrote or co-wrote the whole album. And this is no collection of verse-chorus cliches but a full-blown schlock opera, a grade Bhorror flick, complete with demon babies and breathing houses, which, unnaturally enough, has found its way to vinyl before celluloid or video. The narrative demands of several songs give them surprising structures but the need for continuity also weakens the impact of individual numbers.

So does the Problem, which appears at irregular intervals: like every time King Diamond opens his mouth. To put it lightly, the guy’s larynx does not live up to his image. To put it less lightly, the guy has an impotent croak in the lower register and a helium squeal in the highs, sorta like Cream meets the Chipmunks, sorta like the guy in Zebra trying to be fierce. Sorta funny, actually.

What more can I add? Every time the King cries bloody murder, I can only counter, “Get thee to a vocal coach, bub, or your career will soon be as dead as your characters.”

Michael Davis

BLOOD FEAST

Kill For Pleasure

(New Renaissance)

New Jersey’s Blood Feast is what you would call a serviceable speedmetal band. We wouldn’t die without ’em, but it’s nice to have ’em aboard. I like Kill For Pleasure, so I mean no disparagement when, in describing them, I use words like “average,” or, if I’m feeling cranky, “mediocre.” If you’re into thrash, then you’ll probably want a copy of this. These guys aren’t the most talented musicians around, but they definitely have the right idea.

THEY HAVE THE RIGHT IDEA, and in this world of transvestite pop bands calling themselves “metal,” that alone is of great worth. They undoubtedly play as FAST and as HARD as they can. You can tell they were sweating bullets when this was recorded, so applaud.

The album starts out strongly with ‘‘Menacing Thunder.” ‘‘Venomous Death” is a manic assault. The real standout, though is “Cannibal,” with its deadly drum-led riffing. This song is a certain classic and contains the memorable line “All they want to do is chew.”

The production is such that the drums prevail, making for a heavy sound indeed. Vocalist Gary Markovitch sounds like a cross (upside-down variety) between the devil and a young Lemmy. His techno-hell performance on “R.I.P.” is utterly demonic. There isn’t much in the way of extraordinary riffs; most of the guitar parts seem to merely keep the songs going, though the leads occasionally sizzle. Markovitch and drummer Kevin Kuzma are clearly the stars of this band.

If I was Blood Feast’s producer, I would have made them practice a few more months before turning them loose in the studio. “Suicidal Mission” is a bit clumsy, and the ending chord(s) of “Venomous Death” show just how tight they aren’t. However, if they could write more searing, original-sounding numbers like “Cannibal,” they would be giants.

OK speed freaks, here’s another band name to write on your jackets: Blood Feast. They're not great but they’re good enough for me, and you’ll probably like them as well.

Jeff Clark