Introduction by Daemonomania: The
leaves are changing color, the birds are flying South, and the best part
of you ran down your momma’s asscrack to stain the bed. Must be that
time of year for a top ten list. And this month we’ve got the Top Ten
Metal Fuck-Up Albums for you to mock.
Yep, the bands in question were doing a great job, or at least
an adequate job, and then somehow managed to drop these turds upon their
faithful listeners. Note: a band that simply SUCKS
can’t fuck up, as they are expected to release bad material and will
continue on that path. Only a band that was at some point GOOD can fuck things up by releasing shit.
See you on the forums for a whining session, ye disagreeing fruits.
10. Grave: Hating life
1996 was not a good year for metal, so it seems. And it certainly
wasn’t a good year for Grave. With the departure of Mr. Top Ten Growler
himself, the Swedeath legends were left a two piece. So, three choices
1. Do the logical thing and scour the rolling hills of Scandinavia for a new vocalist who might be able to bring back da bomb.
2. Keep said vocalist if you find him.
3. Forget that and do it yourself. “Hating life” is in the fuck-up’s list. Guess which one they chose?
Ola’s vox in this modern era are A-grade. At the time, however, he
sounded like L.G. Petrov trying to shit out two weeks worth of
cheesesteaks for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The fucking up did not
end there. The simple but awesome blasphemy that made up most of the
lyrical content for the last three albums was replaced by such gems as:
Have a taste of my goods
And if you please me I’ll be good
Suuuuure. Then there’s the songwriting, which also dons swim
goggles and leaps into that cheesesteak-encrusted toilet bowl. How
could you go from the premier mid-paced death metal album of
all time (“Soulless”) to this pile of riffs? The only memorable
material on here consists out the outro track (good only for being weird
and recorded at a different volume level than the rest) and
“Sorrowfilled Moon”, which is a pretty juicy tune. Good lyrics about
being buried alive/dead, very catchy groove, and Ola sounding slightly better than on the rest of the disc.
But two out of ten does not a good album make. Not only was “Hating
Life” a sad follow-up to three of my favorite death metal albums in
herstory, but it also iced the band for seven fucken years
until “Back from the grave” was released. Seven years without Ola and
the gang was a bummer. But if it took that long to get their game
together, so be it. And they’ve been going pretty strong ever since.
Now if they’d just remaster “Dominion VIII”, I won’t have to put that in a fuck-up’s list a few years from now.
9. Amoral: Show your colors
-Production of testicular output sperm and spermatic fluid is
larger in polygamous animals, possibly a spermatogenic competition for
survival. The testes of the right whale are likely to be the largest of
any animal, each weighing around 500 kg (1,100 lb).
This interesting (and impressive, 500 kg’s?! Man!) flash of
knowledge from the Wikipedia Vaults Of Ancient Wisdom provides enticing
proof to my theory that “Show Your Colors”-era Amoral are, in fact, not
a right whale, nor are they polygamous. If they were any of those
things before this album, a sex operation might have done the trick; or
maybe a Benjamin Buttonesque age reversal has made them reach and pass
puberty again (from the wrong direction this time), thus making their
balls ascend. And probably vanish. For all eternity. Forever. ‘Cause I
don’t see these guys returning to form no more… my bet’s on the process
On this, their fourth full-length, the Finns who brought us
magnificent, varied and technical – yet catchy – thrashing death metal
on their first three albums decided to give full rein to the previously
sparsely and faintly hinted 80’s heavy metal influences – double kicks
and chaotic meaty riffing were replaced by pop choruses and glam riffs
borrowed from Mötley Crüe and their likes. They even hired the winner of
Finland’s version of “American Idol” as vocalist – grunts and growls
were replaced by squeamish wailing and powerless clean…wailing. Simply
put: balls were replaced by boobs. Tiny, long boobs. Oh, the horror!
The saddest part of all this is that the Amoral boyz’ songwriting in
their new genre of choice is far inferior to their previous, more ev0l
days. If they want to chicken out and do something else for a change,
fine – but do it well, for Satan’s sake. On “Show Your Colors” there are
no hits, no punch, no balls. Yes, I know you already knew that, but the
lack of testies on this record here is so prominent that it can’t be
stated many times enough. And in case you missed, the balls are not here to be found. NO BALLS.
It might also be fun to consider the fact that the band are sponsored by TIGI
Haircare, and consider using good hairspray to be one of the most
important things to do when preparing for a gig. Yes, really. Good
eyeliner comes second. Yes, really. One of the guitarists even stated in
an interview that he wouldn’t let anyone photograph him without make-up
anymore. Huh? No balls? Good, you’re paying attention.
8. Cryptopsy: The unspoken king
I already tore Flo and his merry men a new asshole,
and with the benefit of hindsight, I can safely say nothing has
changed. The album sounds even worse after the test of time, even if the
reason for it being atrociously bad is still a mystery. Granted, one of
the world’s best death metal drummers still shines here and there, his
talent is unquestionable, but while Cryptopsy had never matched its
early years of “Blasphemy Made Flesh” and the classic “None So Vile”,
the following triad of “Whisper Supremacy”, “And Then You’ll Beg” and
“Once Was Not” still had some feeling and a good punch to them. A tickle
to the cock, you might say.
“The Unspoken King”, now again without Lord Worm, was just a
bucketful of trash, moaning, emo and uninspired. These changes came out
of the blue, and listening to nails scratching a black board would sound
more pleasant than “The Unspoken King”, with its collection of erratic
riffs, retarded vocals and pretentious songwriting. Oh, Flo, where art
thou now, Flo?
7. Megadeth: Risk
Megadeth in the 90’s was one long, slow descent down to the ignoble
depths of commerciability (not a word, you say? My write-up = my words,
now shut the hell up). Starting in 1990 with the thrash classic “Rust in
peace”, ‘deth rode the toned-down, half-thrash wave with ’92’s
“Countdown to extinction”, then toned down the aggression even further
with “Youthanasia” in ’94 (although that album still manages to kicks ass).
By the time “Cryptic writings” hit in ’97, you could hear glimmers
of an upcoming disaster for the band, as there was a bit too much pop-y
songwriting for comfort (yeah, OT’s wrong about that album too; who
woulda thunk it??). Still, “Risk” came as a real WHATTHEFUCK!
to everyone back in ’99; I mean, these dumb, “everybody sing-along
now!” gang vocals, the very superfluous sound effects/samples, and the
almost dance hall-tailored hooks?? I don’t want to dance to a
Megadeth song, dammit Dave! Sure, there’s still riffs here, but they’re
very much buried under the overall “catchiness” Mustaine was aiming for,
and what isn’t wannabe dance hall crap here is still way too
fucken watered-down and soft (“Wanderlust” is like Dave’s fucked-up take
on “Dead or alive”); when Mustaine sings “this is gonna hurt a little
bit”, you think he’s talking about Megadeth’s metal cred.
Seriously, “Cryptic writings” struggled to be metal, and I’d have a hard time calling this one even rock; if you want a taste of this shitstorm for yourself, “ Insomnia
“ should be enough to convince you of its sheer fuck-up-ness. Funny
enough, “Risk” came about because Lars Ulrich said Megadeth didn’t take
enough risks with their music; while that might’ve been some ingenious
sabotaging of Megadeth’s career by the little drummer boy, knowing a
certain record that Ulricky thought was a good idea, he probably didn’t
think there was anything wrong with the final product here. The lesson…?
Never take advice from Lars Ulrich about anything ever.
6. Pestilence: Spheres
Can’t I talk shit about a guy I never met? How do you mean? Ofcourse
I can. I base all my kind words about him on the music and statements
this fucko, Patrick Mameli, has made thruout the years, so believe me –
when a guy is as fucken dumb as this one it’s very easy to speak yer
mind about the dick-entrepreneur in question. This will be a quite
lengthy coverage so let’s start the slaughter… Let’s fucken bring the
verbal carnage into another… eh… lemme see here… sphere?
I know it’s fucken difficult (quite impossible even) to believe, but there was
a time when douchebag Patrick Mameli didn’t actually blow more than all
Norwegian black metal winds combined. There was a time when he didn’t
suck more than an army of extra-terrestrial vacuum cleaners. There was a
time when he actually didn’t chew more cock than the world’s porn-elite
at a Chewing Cock Convention. You know what I’m talking about… He used
to play in a band called Pestilence, a band responsible for “Consuming
impulse”, one of death metal’s absolute classics. This was way before he decided to climb (and build a house) up the Mountain Of Definitive Suck.
I know, it’s hard as shit to fathom this was the case at one point in
time – the fact Mameli didn’t actually completely embarrass himself and
the world with his musical endeavors and personal opinions about metal. I
miss those days. But we will always have “Consuming impulse” to remind
us of past glories. “Spheres” is another story though… And it’s not a
glorious one, by far…
The downfall already started to show its ugly face on (the follow-up
to “Consuming impulse”) “Testimony of the ancients” with all of its 400
horrendous small instrumental pieces. Yeah, those fucken things were
annoying at best, to say the least. But the album actually had some
spirit in between these useless compositions. It actually held a few
songs (“Twisted truth”, “The secrecies of horror” and “Lost souls” are
all good tunes), reminiscent of earlier recordings, believe it or not.
One could tell things were about to go fuck-all though… And now, here
(Please, find it in your heart to forgive me for reminding you of this abomination of an album)
Didn’t Pestilence make a name for themselves for being a superb
death metal band? Yes? A band with one classic tune after the other?
Yes? Then people, enlighten me; WHAT THE FUCK is this half-jazzy, semi-technical, semen-infested, poorly produced BULLSHIT!?!
Where the fuck did the metal go? You know, the M-E-T-A-L? Forget
about it, people – you won’t find it here. You can’t forget the fact
that “Spheres” is also full of cheap electronic sounds that sounds like…
yes, this. “Spheres” introduced the following instrument
to Pestilence’s music. That’s a recipe for failure if I ever saw one.
And it’s not getting any better when Mameli’s showing his emotional side
and decides to play instrumental pieces with nothing but guitars and
the mentioned keyboard. I have had watery shits sounding better than
this crap. What is supposed to be proof of how fucken incredibly deep
and talented Mameli is actually turns out to be nothing but absolutely
repulsive. Those small instrumental pieces are awful and make no sense
to anyone. Fuck are they doing on a Pestilence album? Fuck are the
electronics doing on a Pestilence album? What the FUCK
is Mameli doing on a Pestilence album? This guy’s been destroying the
legacy of the band for close to 20 years today… I believe it’s enough
Deny this album. Deny Mameli and deny EVERYTHING he unfortunately will release from now on. Want some hints as for why? Well, how about this. Or this,
or ofcourse this here album – the hilariously terrible “Spheres”? You
have enough reasons now. Use them. Want a last reason? Pestilence died
when Martin van Drunen got the boot/left.
Oh, and just read the following, the famous words from the idiot himself:
-The fans mustn’t misunderstand, I don’t renounce them. Pestilence grew
and I hope they also did. The guitars stay heavy, but the vocals may
get “weird”. I may actually even sing! We don’t listen to death metal
anymore, I’ve lost touch with that scene. We are more into jazz now,
that’s timeless music. A jazz concert is very different, while drinking
and eating a bit you can relaxed enjoy the music. I also play for the
people in the back that listen to a good solo, not for the drunks in
front of the stage just coming to get drunk and lay on the floor like
tramps. That may go down the wrong way by some fans but even when I make
this kind of music I’m entitled to have my opinion?”
Read that comment again and ask yourself if you are surprised that
“Spheres” is a pile of unlistenable shit? Didn’t fucken think so.
But it’s not all bad when it comes to this album. Allow me to end
this coverage by saying that it’s got a few things going for it… One is…
Eh… Hmm… Lemme see here… One is… Actually, it doesn’t. Fuck “Spheres”
in its soulless, ridiculous ass.
-Lord K Philipson
5. Iron Maiden: The X-factor
With Bruce out of the picture and the mid 90’s upon them, Iron
Maiden welcomes a relatively obscure wailer named Blaze Bayley to fill
their departed Metal God’s shoes. Thus passed the worst personnel
decision in the history of heavy metal. It’s quickly followed by an even
worser tenth album from these legends titled “The X Factor” which oddly
hints at Blaze’s presence in the band, him being a secret ingredient of
some sort, a magic spark even. Yeah right.
Funny, it’s always those at the very top who suffer the most
fabulous disasters. “The X factor” is eleven songs of yer usual Iron
Maiden storytelling and is actually blessed by a few epic tunes, among
the best is opener “The Sign of the Cross” whose live rendition in
Bruce’s hands during 2002’s “Rock In Rio” is breathtaking. Rather
strange, but on this stinker Iron Maiden seem to be retelling movie
plots, particularly those starring either Martin Sheen or Michael
Douglas for “The Edge of Darkness” (Apocalypse Now) and “Man On The
Edge” (Falling Down). Apparently Maiden have been watching lotsa home
videos between singers and…
Whu – what? What’s that, this is a fucked up album? Absolutely. “The
X factor” is so bad, it doesn’t even register among metalheads. It’s an
aural skidmark on the fabric of reality. Until now. Ugh. And this is
the second time Blaze Bayley is featured on a GD list. He is truly the man who doesn’t die – or go away.
On a closing note: “The X Factor” was probably the semen-anal masterpiece that inspired Skull and Bones in their teens.
4. Judas Priest: Turbo
Forgive me Floodhorse, for I know not what I am about to do…
“Turbo” – the name just sounds gay. And no, there are no Rob Halford
gay jokes cumming in this review, the shittiness of the album speaks to
biblical sodomy and anal penetration enough. Besides “Out in the cold”
this album is pure 80’s cheeseball-syntho ass vomit. I would rather
listen to Frankie Goes to Hollywood than this bullshit because at least
they were consistently horrible in that oh-so-special 80’s way. The fact
that Priest went from “British Steel” to this in half of a fucken
decade instantly earns it a spot on The Fuck-Up list.
This was the 10th studio album by Judas Priest and boy oh boy
did they celebrate that milestone with a stinking pile of feces.
Synthesizers and keyboards have no place on a Priest album, a few places
on metal albums in general. I’m your turbo lover… tell me there’s no other!!! Nigga please, this is some horrible stuff. The cover even looks like a hand grabbing a fucken cock.
If you want to lose your faith, talk to forum troll and ex-staffer
Ryan Samuel. If you want to lose your faith in a great band, listen to
“Wild nights, hot & crazy days” or “Hot for love”. Let us all praise
the Lord that we do not believe exists that Priest made Painkiller, and
redeemed their eternal metal souls, after this piece of shit
because this could have been the death of the metal gods. Dead God =
good, dead Priestgood, dead Judas Priest = bad.
3. Metallica: Load
Well, I was ready to rip Metallica a new one for this
most-carefully-constructed list of great fuck-ups in the annals of
metal. And it would have been easy, too. I mean, “Load”, right? The
point where Metallica the Band got abducted by the pod people
and was replaced by Metallica the Corporated Bitches. The point where
music got out of the way, to be replaced by immaculately produced offal
for the masses who didn’t know or care about Metallica, thrash metal, or
anything else in particular. The point where they sucked the big, hairy
one and, well, died, at least as a musical entity that mattered
anything to anyone.
But, you know what? As I was re-listening to this sorry excuse of a
record, I lost my anger; it got replaced by a huge amount of
disappointment and melancholy. I mean, “Load” is just hard rock dreg. A
glossy, corporate-sanctioned void, without reason, without meaning,
without life. Just go through the moves, do the expected, geld your own
voice and squeeze your character into the prefab box that your record
company has made for you. Grab obscene amounts of money, from the same
people that spat on you in the past and made New Kids On the Block
superstars. Success isn’t always the best revenge. Especially when it
follows the big sell-out.
Sell out, turn in, tune off. Was anyone surprised that Metallica got
into the Napster debacle? Is anyone surprised that their live playlist
still consists mainly of songs from their “underground” era? I mean, who
would care if Metallica played live “Bleeding Me” or “King Of Nothing”
or “Until It Sleeps”? 79 long minutes of shitty, vapid, dead non-music,
for deaf masses, by a has-been-but-would-never-again-be band. Short
hair, Hawaiian shirts, nail polish. That’s all there is to “Load”.
Nothing else. What a fucking way to end such a great career… Poor
Metallica. Poor, poor metal…
2. Celtic Frost: Cold lake
Despite the facts that with their early material new paths were
forged for the future metal hordes to follow, I’ve always had a hard
time taking Celtic Frost. They do have a legacy, an important one indeed
in the scheme of all things metal but the release of such an atrocious
on-every-fucken-level record (if such a nauseatingly stoopid collection
of half-assed, cock-rock juvenile bullshit tunes can be called that) as
“Cold Lake” could seriously remove any shred of credibility the band
amassed after classic milestones such as “Morbid Tales” and “To Mega
Therion”. Ladies and gentlemen, “Cold Lake” is like a convoy of stinking
turds the size of nuclear submarines that would require a cataclysmic
event in order to be flushed away into oblivion.
I bet Tom G. Warrior must ask himself on his more lonely hours how
was he ever capable of procreating the ideas that comprise this
aberration of an album. This is not a redheaded stepchild. This is a
sperm-of-the-janitor-that-was-fucking-yer-wife-silly utterly retarded
child. How do you come up with the concept of reviving yer band, which
had been up to then one of the most original and driving forces of
metal, to do a fucken GLAM record?! Worse yet, to FAIL
at doing a glam record?! How the fuck do you in all seriousness go as
far as changing your look from Exhibit A (shown above) circa “To Mega
Therion”, to Exhibit B (shown below) of “Cold Lake” shame?? If that
doesn’t set off some huge alarm bells ringing in your head, go on and
actually listen to the tracks. The Lame-O-Meter was broken beyond repair
after measuring this sonic embarrassment: pathetic attempts each and
every one at sleazy rock-my-cock, fuck me if it ain’t true but even
Poison didn’t sound this moronic. There isn’t a single riff worth saving
here and the production and mastering are as weak and lifeless as
Darkthrone’s are ugly and retardedly raw.
How far the mighty would fall indeed, eh? To say that Celtic Frost
never fully recovered from this fiasco would be the understatement of
the fucken century. It took untold tons of contaminated water under many
a bridge over the best part of 18 years, plus a number of compilations,
re-masters, breakups, a reunion and unforeseen help from Metallica (who
released something even worse to lower the standards even more) to help
the metal universe forget this monument to incompetence and hilariously
bad music. Listen to it only after having listened to every other
Celtic Frost record, or you might find yourself in the same spot as I am
now. Do it if you must, but I can’t recommend you do even if it’s quite
good for a few laughs, all in all I wish I had never subjected my ears
to such punishment.
1. Metallica: St. Anger
Face it. This is the musical fuck up of the past century
covering any genre of music. Metallica’s flirting with slower paced
southern-tinged metal couldn’t even hint at how badly they would fuck up
their legacy. “Load” wasn’t great by any stretch of the imagination,
no, but completely tarnish their reputation it hadn’t yet done. Just
proof their songwriting was going down the shitter. “Re-Load” showed a
couple glimmers of hope, but then 6 years later we realized that it was
to never be again.
Like any Metallica nut, I made sure to get this fucker the day it
was released. All I had to go on was the radio edit of the song “St.
Anger”. Color me rainbow, but I was an 18 year old Metallica fan and I
was expecting the rest of the album to be much better. I was so stoked
about Metallica that I skipped off campus to buy this. Signed myself
out, got my keys, and drove to Target since they were selling it for ten
dollars. With a DVD no less! What a fucken
deal, this had to be the best fucken thing since “Master of Puppets”.
But that cover… where the fuck is the logo? What does a bondaged fist
have to do with metal, and Metallica? Man, this music had to be
amazing, because the cover sure wasn’t.
Fuck. No. I tried to like it. I so tried. I mean, it was METALLICA, motherfuckers! I convinced myself for about a year that it had its merits somewhere,
and I’d pick out, like, 5 second segments that had a resemblance of a
riff that might have sounded better had songwriting skills been present.
Two things got in my way right off the bat, though. The terrible
snare, and the terrible vocals. Can you possibly be more out of tune?
Yes, I refer to both.
Lars was never great, but holy shit. James could never sing so
great, but what the fuck? Kirk Hammett is a good guitarist, but where
did he go? Remember those videos of him having difficulties learning
the riffs to a song or two from this album? Yeah, I don’t think it was
because they were hard, but because he couldn’t fucken fathom how metal
giants are supposed to play something so bad. I’d put a mental block if
I was told to play those riffs and be taken seriously.
Excuse me, I must be giving the other shit too much credit for
ruining the entire album. That’s where the lyrics come in. A sober
James is an utterly horrible lyricist.
“Fran-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tock.” Fucken blow me, headcheese. “St.
Anger, round my neck. He never gets respect.” St. Anger? I’m madly in
anger with you, Metallica. Thinking back now, how was I not completely
aware that that is one of the worst album titles conceived? Metallica
in the end actually have no positives in their corner regarding this
abomination. The lyrics suck saggy vag, the vocals suck distended
asshole, the guitars suck Marilyn Chambers-style, the drums suck the
most, the bass sucks so much it’s not available for comment, the
production sucks vacuum style, the cover sucks Pushead, the booklet
sucks Hemingway, the free DVD sucks Jerry Bruckheimer, even the plastic it was printed on sucks major Fujitsu.
For years I wanted to be James Hetfield, fronting a fucken awesome
heavy metal band and being able to pen such awesome shit. Yeah, well,
that all went down the fucken pube-clogged drain with a load of semen
and tears. I will admit one thing: it’s a real accomplishment, this
album. To so completely tarnish your reputation within the metal
community you relied upon to make it big. To not want to even think
about the latter-day/current period of your heroes really shows a lot,
and it saddens me. Anyone that says this album is better than a pile of
feces can go tie a shoestring around their clenched orange fist and ram
it up their ass.