PSYCHO
The Grind Years (Selfmadegod)

The underground just keeps turning up hidden gems, even those that have been around for many years; hence, the term “underground.” Boston crust/punk grinders PSYCHO has been trolling through subterranean caverns – off and on anyway – for three decades now and later this month Poland’s Selfmadegod Records will release the “third installment of their discography,” The Grind Years. And to be perfectly honest, this is my first exposure to the band, so keep those fingers crossed that the Wikipedia entry is accurate.

In true grind form, on The Grind Years you get a whopping 52 tracks that cover the years 1990 to 1994, which includes songs taken from a variety of splits with the likes of NASUM, BLOOD, ANAL CUNT, and NASUM, as well as 7” releases. The album also includes five bonus live videos taken from the group’s 1992 tour of Australia, which I can’t tell you a damn thing about because they were not included with the digital promo, but I’m sure the performances are simply smashing.

While much of what is included here is nothing that you haven’t heard before, the appealing part is that the selections run the gamut from nihilistic crust punk to old school grind and all of it is grimy and ferocious. In the way of reference, you get a smattering of tunes that remind of early BRUTAL TRUTH and NAPALM DEATH (e.g. “No Decision” and “Hoax”), sometimes in the same song, and AGATHOCLES, as well as the usual crusty/grindy punk suspects (DISCHARGE, et al). By the same token, the styles alternate between the more metallically-infused, if only around the edges, and the crust-driven. You’ll hear the occasional curveball as well, such as when the band breaks into a little “In a Gadda Da Vida” amidst the grind lunacy of “Has Been,” while other segments/songs borrow from CELTIC FROST and HELLHAMMER (“Friend of the Family” and “Threshold of Pain”). All of it served raw and bloody and, thankfully, none of it will be found tasteful to the discerning fan of the mainstream. That’s really what it’s all about, now isn’t it?

Scott Alisoglu

KERASPHORUS
Cloven Hooves at the Holocaust Dawn (Nuclear War Now!)

That KERASPHORUS is the new project from vocalist/bassist Pete Helmkamp (ORDER FROM CHAOS, ANGELCORPSE, REVENGE) should give you some indication that Cloven Hooves at the Holocaust Dawn is a poser-free release of monumental proportions that was forged in the fires of the blackest metal. In collaboration with guitarist B. Wolaniuk and with session drumming from J. Read (CREMATION, CONQUEROR, REVENGE, AXIS OF ADVANCE), the four-song EP exemplifies battle-tested blackened thrash and war metal that is several degrees hotter than the sun. Don’t even bother with the sunscreen.

Though delivered in a style that is identifiable with a virulent strain of American blackened thrash, the fully developed arrangements include the kind of sonic carpet bombing heard from Australia’s ABOMINATOR, albeit in a less chaotic sense. Indeed the depth of the songs derive from a songwriting approach that often balances blasting mayhem with a steadier, but no less murderous, pace. The molten riffs (tone included) burn like napalm, even when the band launches into a beastly groove such as that heard near the halfway point of “Swarm Intelligentsia.” Considering the numerous references to hotness, you’ve no doubt gotten the gist of the temperature settings on this acrimonious bitch.

But back to the distinctly American part of KERASPHORUS’ sound, one can also hear something approaching a more calamitous SUMMON, that is, when the bits and pieces of ANGELCORPSE’s war torn approach are not at least felt. It is not so much a stylistic comparison, as an acknowledgement of the reference’s relevance when heard through Helmkamp’s sadistic rasp. As for the “war” in war metal, one only needs to crank Cloven Hooves at the Holocaust Dawn to full volume and recognize what could have been the soundtrack to the vastly outnumbered U.S. Marines’ breakout from the clutches of 60,000 Chinese Communists at Chosin Reservoir in Korea. Get the picture?

Scott Alisoglu

ROB ZOMBIE
Hellbilly Deluxe 2: Nobel Jackals, Penny Dreadfuls And The Systematic Dehumanization Of Cool, Loud & Proud / Roadrunner

Stepping out from behind the camera and back into the spotlight, 90s metal icon turned solo shock rocker turned director picks his microphone back up for yet another B-flick inspired, industrial groove-fest. It’s almost fitting that Zombie chose to title his newest effort as a sequel to his first solo outing, Hellbilly Deluxe, as Hellbilly Deluxe 2: Nobel Jackals, Penny Dreadfuls and The Systematic Dehumanization Of Cool is largely cut from the same cloth as everything he’s done since stepping away from WHITE ZOMBIE. The beauty part of this strict adherence to the style that he created over a decade ago is that he now has it down to a science and Hellbilly Deluxe 2 is arguably his most consistent album to date.

While we don’t hear any instant mega-hits like “Dragula” or “Living Dead Girl” this time out, Zombie does treat us to eleven fairly well-written tales of witches, werewolf women, aliens chicks, monsters, murderers and whatever the hell else he manages to pull out of that horror-filled head of his. Like the good horror director he is, Zombie starts Hellbilly Deluxe 2 out with a bit of creepy foreshadowing in the form of the wind samples and brooding guitar that serve as an intro to “Jesus Frankenstein.” What follows is somewhat disappointing in that the bulk of this one fails to capitalize on the energy built up by its opening moments. Things pick up big time with the 60’s rock meets BUTTHOLE SURFERS vibe of “What?” Complete with a tasty dose or Moog synth and a semi-distorted snarl, “What?” is easily one of the album’s most entertaining tunes. More classic Zombie-isms come during the almost-too-poppy “Sick Bubblegum” and the high-octane and ironically anti-Hollywood “Death And Destiny Inside The Dream Factory.” Guitarist John 5 gets down, dirty and Southern-fried with his bluesy six-string action on “Mars Needs Women” and “Werewolf, Baby.” Speaking of luscious lycanthropy, Rob gives a supped-up nod to The Munster’s theme song on the surf-punk “Werewolf Women Of The S.S.”
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