The following is the December 1986 installment of Puszone
Thanks to Scott Slimm for the article.
Crepuscule. Tonight it felt darker than ever before, still the heat poured out.
The throat was dry, crying out for a fluid relief,as i slowly emptied the contents
of a top-full milk carton into my system. The cold, moist liquid ran rapidly through
soothing the heat drive momentarily...PPAAATOOO! Sour! My mouth spewed
out the cringing taste of this curdled disaster. My stomach buckled as the body
lunged forward. My head shook with a hammering pulse as I thrust open my jaws
and a Niagra Falls of white chunky swill stormed out of the tonsil gates, hosing down
the black asphalt pavement. I was bowled over. My body arched back, then radically
heaved forward, mouth ajar, cheek bones pressed tight against my eyes, stomach
contents flying every which direction out from my orifice. My form flung down to the
ground in an uncontrolled spastic action, as murky waste retched across my body
with a pungent aroma filling the atmosphere around me. My chest rose jerkily upward,
then smashing back to the ground, again and again, until Ifelt a large object move
inside me. The pain inside my cranium was phenomenal, as sweat poured down my
chalky white face. Quickly, my eyes bulged outward, as the mouth cranked open wider
than before. Whatever it was, it was long and was climbing up the inside of my throat.
Arms flailing about, I could barely handle the pain, when with a splash, it roared out,
taking my teeth with it, plunging down to the vomit pools on the ground. I felt empty,
blood ran down from my mouth across my battered form, I barely had the strength to
open my eyes, pryed shut in fear, to see what had just beem reared out of my body.
In horror I saw it, lifeless, covered with white discharge, but how did it get into
my system? It was....Puszone! Welcome once again Zoners to that monthly delivery
of musical insanity, where there's always an offer.
Speed raging fury, pushing stronger than ever before with a savage gleem you thought
might be lost since this band joined ranks with dreaded major label, a syndrome that has
broken many underground bands. Alas, speedcore, metal mania cult fan faves, Slayer,
rise up with their best release yet, stalking the earwaves with a superb dose of accelerated
terrorism. Reign in BloodSlayer's third album release features mighty fine
production by rappin' double R man Rick Rubin, who brings out the devil in these
four assaulters of mayhem. Knock that together with some tight compositions and an
overall maturity in song structure and chord progression. Slayer is driving a
quick, easily enjoyable slab of ten sonic blasting tracks that contain a total no-holds-
barred thrust of power. Guitar slicing and dicing by axeman Kerry King and Jeff Hanneman
kick in the rapid, fluid licks that work hand in hand, grinding with energy, pulsating
with heavy cranks, showing the experience of two guitarists battling together in the style
that comes from creative minds. Tom Araya who keeps the backbite strong with bass
vigor, is becoming quite the crooner as his voice changes the pace, occassionally crying
out with an echoing shrill. What brings this album to an exceptional level is the
song writing-not the satanic overtones which are part of Slayer's trademark-but
the piecing together of musical chords, leads, pace changes, singing with harmonies
and the concern about where to set the dynamite for the effective explosions. Tracks
like "Angel of Death", "Criminally Insane", "Altar of Sacrifice", and "Piece by Piece"
deliver the fast pace, stop and go momentum, with slow changes, and numerous parts.
There is the chaotic bites like the ultra-fast blast of "Necrophobic" and the charging
"Re-born" still Slayer show their heavy side with the potent "Post-Mortem" which
works into the kerranging slugfest of "Raining Blood" all with wailing hooks. This
vinyl slab will bring Slayer to the masses, and if it hits with a successful
punch, it could be the start of many fast musical composures as Reign in Blood
pours on the airwaves. On Def Jam Records.
Storming out of the underground, with a good following under their belt is the debut
LP Life of Dreams by the New York speedcore devastation unit, the Crumbsuckers.
This five piece hits hard with a solid mixture of fast, aggressive hardcore, melted
with the drive and precision of metallic assaults, bringin g forth a sound that bellows with
chaos yet is tight with creativity. As the music whips up a frenzy, vocalist Notaro,
growls out a harsh spitting rage as his voice curls with vicious snarls, dominating
this furious blend. An obvious metal influece careens the whines to wildly scream
outward as twin guitars wail with a fast combustion, dispatching an uproar of boiling
sirens. Barking, striking, sounding the alarm with solid action, the Crumbsuckers
pack in sixteen tracks that bolt forth with crucial deliverance, evident in "Trapped",
"Shits Creek", "Brainwashed", "Live to Work", and "Moment of Silence/Mr. Hyde", which
features a classy acoustic guitar intro. The onslaught of the Crumbsuckers is
here, see why they have such a boisterous following. Play loud on Combat Core Records.
Harmonious, melodic and full of spunky rhythms with that ghoulish delight of Misfits quality
is a new band who call themsleves the Ghoul Squad. Much like their obvious influence Ghoul Squad has that howling vocalist effect over a raw, yet determined guitar
buzz. Lots of sing-along choruses bring a lot of fun to a pleasure-packed sound. First off, Misfits fans will go crazy with this band as the aura is very similar, still
don't get your hopes up, it contains no ex-members and they are from Massachusetts.
Secondly, the compositions are well thought-out with enjoyable guitar licks, and the vocalist
does have a sharp eerie appeal as the drums tom away to the beat. And thirdly, Ghoul
Squad are still a young band and, with this much talent, are destined to go far.
So demand their demo and get a taste of the Squad in action.
Hot out of Germany is a new thrash ensemble who go by the name Combat Not Conform
with a passion for speed, missiling power and a knack for well-written lyrics. The
brillance revelaed by the songwriting shows a heartfelt emotion and a fine composition
in structure and poetry, as the feminine vocals bring it all to an immpressive caliber.
Vocalist Yvonne swoops down with an unnatural vocal approach that mixes well with the
raw sonic blast the wallops out. Jumping from chord to chord, utilizing rapid energy,
odd bites and straight forward drives of hardcore velocity, Combat Not Conform
deliver a unique sound. Songs like "Keep your Head", "You Turn Away", "Youth of Today",
and "Clutzy" all show promise that sparks a new talent. A different approach to guitar
with quick little ditties popping up everywhere is the highlight of Combat Not
Conform's debut album, Love on Destiny Records.
New Beginning Recordsare striking up their second release, another east coast
powerhouse by the name of Underdog. This four song EP has a feeling of monumentous Bad Brains hardcore, yet Underdog steam with a style all their own, barking
with raw, uncompromising guitars, continual drum smacks and mixed paced action, which
blend together a fine debut of a seven inch hardcore platter. Vocals carry a strong weight
with this feverish unit. Watch for Underdog on New Beginning Records.
On the horizon for upcoming releases are two new ones by Seattle's brash splattercore
outfit, namely the Accused, with a 5 song 12" and an entire LP, both being all
newly recorded material. The advance tape totally smokes and should have all running
for cover, especially when you hear the album title, More Fun Than an Open Casket Funeral.
Out of England, the masters of total distortion gone lovingly mad, those crazed musicians
called Disorder will have a new mini-LP out soon entitled Someday Son
All This Will Be Yours. A five-tracker which is a bit tame for Disorder
yet still utterly potent, featuring Taf on vocals, since Boobs is no longer with the band.
Norwegian mates of Disorder, Kafka Process have a new release out that
shreds the decibels far and wide. Good kick-in-the-butt hardcore from Norway.
Ah, the Stoopids, excuse me, the Stupids have released their second LP, quickly following
the success of Peruvian Vacation, and as expected it's a beard's nightmare of being
shaved. Fast, sonic zooming blasts, mercury rising aggression, raw, uncompromising
fun, and that comedic edge, which the Stupids herald as their trademark. Retard
Picnic cranks up with sixteen mind-tremoring assaults that could just pull the cloth
off the table and totally break everything upon it with the craziness this English trio
dish out. A black ball down the bowling alley smashes the pins into smithereens as tracks
like "Sleeping Troubles", "Jesus, Do What You Want to Do", "Waltz of The New Wavers", and
naturally, "We Suck" keeps the Stupids in fine form and in the tradition they
have formed. Imagine a continuous barrage of thrash mayhem that is tight and well-
oiled, with mumblings thown in, a few humorous jokes, all while Tommy's still trying
to sing as fast as he can, while playing the drums too, keeping his stamina at a
skull-crushing beat. Soon, the Stupids will ne the idols of many, and Wolfie
fan clubs will pop up everywhere. It's not that serious, but totally exhilirating with fun.
Yah dude! On Children of the Revolution Records.
Critical meltdown snapping a loud volumne of maniac speed, driving with vital punches
that break the doors down comes a tough, split album out of germant that keeps the
word radical alive. Two bands share the bill here, the power-packed Hostages of Ayatollah
and the furious Manson Youth. Both sides are titled as if their own seperate disc. Hostages of Ayatollah'sKaaba Kaaba Hey rips into ten lightning blasting
tracks fill of stampeding fury that bashes with a total exertion of talent and force.
Upfront guitar vigor saturates the change and pumps out a raw buzzsawing roar that
grins with havoc licks and m,aniac strumming. Tongue flailing vocals spit out wildly
with a gigantic charisma, as the native German language predominates here. This band has
the capacity to ravage, which proves effective on this, their second release. Flip this
black vinyl slab over and welcome yourself to Manson Youth'sOnly Time Will Tell,
eight rapid cuts of brutal thrash run amok, combating a barrage of nailing bass plucks
and quick buzzing guitar screeching. Features Yvonne on vocals, who also sings with Combat Not Conform, and her voice lunges straight from the larnyx to push out
the lengthy lyrics in a vein similar to Penelope Houston of the Avengers. The
hurling persistence of Manson Youth, keeps the fire burning and a good debut.
The LP comes with a poster and is on Zorro.
Grauched-out vocals harshly bulldoze the way for this frantic Swedish thrash release by Rovsvett. On their second EP, Rovsvett continue with the full-tilt
thunderous uproar of ripping raw guitar, splashing cymbals and the deep growls of
crooner gone mad, Jerker Persson who thrusts the tonsils in blistering action. Seven
songs in the split second uncompromising Swedish fashion that is rigorous yet outcries
with a crude cargo.
Nuclear Assault is metal gone hardcore. Their debut twelve incher Brain Death
shows the extreme power of a metallic energy that packs the wallop with speed and quick
snare drum smashing. Nuclear Assault was formed by ex-Anthrax bassist Dan
Lilkerm who was also in the Stormtroopers of Deathproject, and with the help of
John Conolle, Anthony Bramante and Glenn Evans has made a band that mixes crossover elements
with a street feel, really getting the pace raging. Even though this EP only features
3 songs, a strong energy exists with teeth gritting metallic leads and heavy riffs,
still plunging headlong into some rapid chords. Vocals raucously whine forth, as the music
chants its beats, ready to attack, and when it does is turbulent and thrusting hard. Nuclear Assault will appeal mostly to the thrashbanger, but the experience of
this band shows in the distinct musical structure. A wild intro to their forthcoming
LP. On Combat Records.
The cold air smashed at your back, the flesh ripples, screaming unprotected as the skin
begs for that cotton. Slip on an official Puszone T-shirt, available in small, medium