Barbaric Gardians & Bestial Malevolance

I was on the road last week. Well, when I say "on the road", I mean I was on a trip for my work, but given the subject matter of the blog, I think I should say on the road, so that you imagine me rattling along in the back of a transit van drinking Scrumpy Jack, instead of sipping over-priced coffee on an inter-city.

Anyway, while I was there, I had some free time and found a second hand record shop to browse in. Among my haul from this was a vinyl copy of Black Metal by Venom. I was never a big Venom fan back in the day, so it was good to finally pick up a pretty battered copy of this record. Look, that's it up there.

Later on that day I was sitting in a cafeteria having a coffee and I decided that I'd dig out the records I bought to have a look at the damn things. Now, at this point I realised that a vinyl copy of Black Metal is pretty conspicuous when you take it out in public. Then, I noticed that at the table next to me was a family, a young couple with two little children, the younger of whom was in a pram right next to me. At this point my imagination started running away with me. Could this 1982 Venom album from Neat Records, with its spelling mistakes on the back cover, cast a malignant spell over this baby? I decided to put it back in its carrier bag before the cafe shook from Carmina Burana, trusting that the couple of millimetres of polythene would protect the child from any dark influence of Cronos ("rabid captor of bestial malevolance"), Abaddon ("barbaric gardian to the 7 gates of Hell") or Mantas (below, "grand master of Hades and Mayhem". And white leather trainers). What can I say? The coffee is strong over here.

That got me to thinking that the demise of vinyl has reduced the potential for your favourite bands to cause you awkward moments with their product artwork. Kids of today downloading their music will never have to worry about their mum seeing their copy of Lovehunter" or the guidance teacher walking in when they're giving a friend their copy of "Reign in Blood". I think they're missing out.

In League with Venom

Back in the days before music magazines felt any obligation to stick free music to the cover of their publications, I sent off 2.99 plus p&p (allowing 28 days for delivery) to sounds or Kerrang! (can't remember which, Sounds I think) for a sampler tape for Neat Records. That's right, I, and who knows how many others, effectively paid for Neat's marketing budget. When it arrived, it had tracks from all kinds of NWOBHM bands on the label's roster. All of them rubbish. Apart from one. It didn't sound like anything else on the tape. The drums sounded like knitting needles being struck against pillows (a sound I knew very well) and the quality of the production sounded as though the entire recording budget had been 2.99 plus p&p. It was, of course, Bursting Out by Venom.

It's easy to forget what a stir Venom caused when they first came out. Kerrang! never really knew what to make of them, giving them bad reviews one issue and then putting in weird (and silly) 3D photosets of them in the next one. They made two albums and built up such a following (despite never touring) that Neat expected their third album to make the Top 40 of all places. Something that Tommy Vance practically guaranteed. On the Friday Rock Show, he described their single Warhead as one of these songs that comes along every so often that changes music. Or similar words. He also bet the then Radio 1 Breakfast Show DJ Mike Reed 100 pounds that he wouldn't play it on his show. Which of course he then did ("He's got a lotta bottle" said Vance afterwards).

The success went to their heads. Third album At War With Satan had a pretentious cover, and - uh-oh- the title track was a 20 minute concept piece. Venom and 20 minute concept pieces made uneasy bedfellows if you ask me. I prefer to remember them via this story from Kerrang! no. 24 from September 1982.

(Cronos) had been unable to contain himself from pawing the unfortunate females at his local Mecca Centre. He was hastily ejected after numerous complaints to the management and aided by two fellow rogues-in-arms proceeded to repleat his revenge on some innocent, unsuspecting campers on a nearby holiday camp, by donating them a sound kicking for their troubles. However, Cronos was given away by the motif etched into his jacket ... VENOM, and was brought to his just deserts. 

Thrown out of his local Mecca Centre, eh? Lay down your soul to the gods Rock & Roll!