EXHORDER slaughter in the vatican (1990)

Exhorder, hailing from Kenner, Louisiana.

So this particular group of maniacs continue our foray into southern Thrash Metal. The big argument behind this band is that they were ripped off by another band that got huge. Essentially, Pantera wanted to be this band; they had been a glam metal wimpfest for years. Then Pantera became significantly more amazing than this band, and Exhorder got salty about it. What probably happened is that a scene built around of bunch of bands in the south moved through a similar sound at the same time, Devastation being the other example we have seen, and some of the bands broke and some didn't. Who cares, this album is pretty heavy, and the nearly identical Phil Anselmo-sounding singer is pretty cool to hear. Lots of throbbing metal going on, ok solos, all that stuff, pummeling as usual for 1990. Totally lots of grooves floating around in this piece, check out the end of the sample song. A solid addition.

Artwork. Wake up, Pope, time to go outside and WAIT, THOSE PICTURES OF CHRIST ARE AWES--IS HE CONTROLLING A REFINERY FROM A CLOUD? YES! POPE, DUDE, WHERE DID YOU GET THESE-- Yeah, I mean, I think the FBI or some other covert operations group with skinny suits wearing Oakleys and earpieces would be the last dudes the underground 'Kill The Pope' movement would hire out to go b'head'n that thar Pope. This Pope is going to the guillotine in a crowded square, and that is definitely Thrash, if not a little old-school and French. Still I'm saying that the crowd out there, and I see a mohawk or two, they're gonna guillotine those two Secret Service losers right after the big man is eternally biffed. Sayin'. Love the logo, because you can't tell if the perimeter is some kind of soul-incinerating lightning blaze or, just, red fur.




NUMBER 14

DEVASTATION idolatry (1991)

Devastation, hailing from Corpus Christi, Texas.

Here is a clear example of a band from the scene Pantera punched their way into our hearts from. Devastation's last album knocks it down with a sheer wall of destroying, relentlessly pounding Thrash of the righteously Sacred kind, my friends. Many bands got that part right, only to carelessly allow their vocalist to flail around in a wacky, hilarious dance of mediocrity, but Devastation did not; this is where that real Texas feeling kicks you. This singer is raspy and punishing and always perfectly anthemic, a truly southern kind of Thrash approach. "Texas Always Moves 'Em" is right.

Artwork. Classic chaotic emblem just right for t-shirts, runic representations of every religion ever, all brought together by a particularly handsome cranius, blindfolded for our pleasure. I can't make fun of it, and you can't beat it.




NUMBER 13