Pentagram - Last Rites cropped

Pentagram – Last Rites (Metal Blade, 2011)

Pentagram should have been huge.  They should have been America’s answer to Black Sabbath, our very own harbingers of doom.  But somewhere along the way, things went horribly awry.  Vocalist/mastermind Bobby Liebling let his drug abuse take precedence over his music, and the band couldn’t even get their shit together long enough to get signed to a decent label or release an album until fourteen(!) years after forming.  More often than not, Liebling and Pentagram have appeared destined for failure.  Yet here he stands in 2011, holding a Metal Blade recording contract and being backed by arguably the strongest Pentagram lineup of all time.  Having never been addicted to anything (well, maybe caffeine and heavy metal, but I’ve managed to kick the former), I suppose I’ll never understand what Liebling has been through over the past four decades, but whatever that personal hell might have been, I’m glad he managed to claw his way out of it, especially when an album as stellar as Last Rites is the result.  Liebling isn’t here to be a another rock ‘n’ roll casualty.  He’s here to kick your ass, and uh, to quote the man himself, “show ‘em how”.

Looking like some kind of fucked up yet infinitely wise old wizard (possibly the same wizard that popped up in my review of Dawnbringer’s Nucleus), Liebling rocks harder and with more energy than a hundred men half his age can muster.  The man is unstoppable, as his inimitable vocal performance on Last Rites attests.  He’s one of metal’s last truly great, distinctive vocalists, sounding as vital and vibrant here as he did on the archival recordings featured on the First Daze Here collections.  Like all the Pentagram full lengths, Last Rites is a collection of classic songs that never received the proper treatment as well as newer compositions, and Liebling attacks them all with equal vigor.

Then there’s Victor Griffin, Liebling’s right hand man.  He is an out-and-out master of ten ton doom riffage, wielding a guitar tone that is best described as an iron fist sheathed in a velvet glove.  It’s warm fuzziness gently caresses your ears as it pummels them on tracks like “Treat Me Right”, “Into the Ground” and “Walk in Blue Light”.  Anyone who’s listened to Griffin’s Place of Skulls knows that he’s all about the savior, but you’d swear that he’d had to have struck a deal with Lucifer himself in order to command this kind of fiery six-string righteousness.

It’s interesting to me that many of the older doom metal practitioners, such as Liebling and Griffin, are down with the good lord.  So many modern doom bands embrace the dark side, and it seems they missed the entire point of Black Sabbath (both the song and the band).  Ozzy and Co. weren’t happy to see Satan standing before them, they were fucking terrified (“Oh please God help me!”).  That to me is what doom metal is about; coming to the grim realization that conjuring up the forces of darkness isn’t a good thing and struggling to attain some semblance of salvation, even if there is little or no hope of it.  That might sound strange coming from an avowed atheist, but for whatever reason I’ve always seen doom as a some sort of biblical struggle between good and evil taking the form of debilitatingly heavy riffs.  Liebling and Griffin understand this inherently.  They’ve danced with the Devil longer than any mere mortal has a right to, and somehow managed to come out of the ordeal not only alive, but at the height of their powers.  Now it’s their duty to deliver the warning, keeping all of us from suffering the same fate.  These are the things I hear when I listen to Last Rites.

Regardless of your stance on the spiritual matters of doom, you should have no problem appreciating Last Rights.  This is timeless music played with conviction and craftsmanship, something all too rare in today’s flavor-of-the-minute fueled metal scene. Last Rites is one of my favorite things I’ve heard so far this year, and hopefully the support of a respectable label will wake more people up to the fact that Liebling and Pentagram are nothing short of a goddamn national treasure.  Doom on, brothers and sisters.

In defense of KISS.

It seems like a lot of people I know don’t like KISS.  Because of this, I can’t help but suspect that I may be surrounded by communist subversives.  Of course it could be that I grew up with KISS (and Gene Simmons in particular) as a household name, being introduced to them by my uncle at a very young age.  Or it could be that most people I know for some reason don’t think that the following things are awesome: blood, fire, makeup, battle-axe shaped bass guitars and catchier-than-herpes nuggets of 3 minute, 3 chord pop rock.

I’m guessing it has something to do with the later.  KISS are not a heavy metal band, or even a hard rock band.  KISS is a pop band.  A mindless sugar-rush of sweet, tasty choruses and juvenile lyrics wrapped in the aforementioned fire, blood and makeup.  Once you have that in mind, it might make it easier to appreciate them for what they really are.  ”Calling Dr. Love”, “God of Thunder” and “Deuce” aren’t fucking high art or rocket science, they are the musical equivalent of a bag of Halloween candy.  Anyone assessing KISS based on any other criteria needs to get it the fuck together.

(above: “God of Thunder” my favorite KISS song and the closest they ever got to heavy metal in my opinion)

And although KISS might not be a heavy metal band by any stretch of the imagination, they are arguably the second most important band to influence heavy metal after Black Sabbath.  Their theatricality/imagery, catchiness and swagger, (not to mention the invention of what would later come to be known as corpsepaint) had wide-ranging and lasting effects on everyone from GWAR to the late Dimebag Darrell to the black metal scene in its entirety.  Bands ranging from White Zombie (“God of Thunder”) to the Melvins (“Goin’ Blind”) to Nirvana (“Do You Love Me”) and beyond have all seen fit to cover tunes penned by the grease-paint adorned quartet.  And let us not forget about the monumentally  atrocious Kiss My Ass tribute album, featuring such artists as Garth Brooks (or is that Chris Gaines) and uh… The Gin Blossoms.

(above: “I Was Made for Lovin’ You” aka KISS’ “disco song” and also one of their most successful hits.  Hey, I dislike disco as much as the next metalhead (except for the Bee Gees, those dudes were hella sick), but try to tell me this isn’t a catchy lil’ fucker of a song.)

Of course along with KISS’ imagery came accusations of satanism and other such nonsense.  According to some members of the god squad, KISS was an acronym for Knights In Satan’s Service.  I’m not quite sure how anyone could listen to “I Was Made For Lovin’ You” or “Hard Luck Woman” and get satanism out of it.  Or maybe anyone that wears face paint is automatically a satanist in the eyes of jesus freaks.  Watch out for Bozo kids, he’s going to see that you roast in the fiery pits of hell!  But I digress, the “controversy” brought on in typical fashion by the lord’s most ignorant followers only helped make KISS that much more appealing to rebellious youth, even if they were really singing about sex instead of satan.  Come to think of it, that was probably even more appealing.

So maybe now those of you that have previously scoffed at my enjoyment of KISS have a better understanding of my reasons for being a fan.  Sure, they have made numerous missteps, such as taking the makeup off, firing Peter Criss and Ace Frehley and releasing tons of clunkers in the song department (I cannot comment on their latest album as yet), not to mention basically becoming nothing more than money-grubbing media/merchandising whores.  But again, KISS is a pop band, so things like artistic integrity and cred should be viewed as non-issues.  Fun haters be damned, I’ll be cranking “Cold Gin” while you’re bitching about what a terrible band KISS is for all of the wrong reasons.  KISS my ass, indeed.