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Rating: Black metal was prophesied by Venom, RIGHT, but the band that, for me, outlined its features and compositional technique is Bathory (just listen, even briefly, to the music of Mayhem, Darkthrone, Marduk, and Dissection to understand how important the contribution of the Swedish band was), without taking anything away from other influencers of the most extremist fringe that heavy metal has ever had (Celtic Frost, Slayer, Sodom, and Mercyful Fate).
The leader and sole stable member, Quorthon (R.I.P.), was a great musician, not for his technical level but for his state of mind that he was able to transform into music, a state of mind filled with anger towards the Christian religion which, according to his thinking, eradicated Norse worship from Scandinavia, performing provocatively, complete with goats and five-pointed stars, to scream his opposition to Christianity.
After the thrash/black successes of the '80s ("Under the Sign of Black Mark" and "Blood Fire Death") and the viking ones from the early '90s ("Hammerheart" and "Twilight Of The Gods"), good Quorthon gave birth to two controversial records, "Requiem" (1994) and this "Octagon" (1995), records that mark a departure from the viking metal sound acquired in recent years in favor of a violent thrash metal in the Slayer style of "Reign in Blood" and Kreator's "Pleasure to Kill." "Octagon," like its predecessor, was ostracized by Bathory fans, accused of being sonically barren and lacking in new ideas. In any case, I don't consider it the best chapter of the band, but this record is decently crafted and it is precisely its “dirty” recording that makes it evil and sinister.
"Immaculate Pinetreeroad #930" opens the sonic holocaust unleashed by this work, with Quorthon screaming at the top of his lungs, supported by a drum with frenzied rhythms (it really is the case to say so) and a guitar with almost incomprehensible distortion. The melodic intro of "Born to Die" deceives the listener with a sulfurous guitar arpeggio and after about 30 seconds turns into a violent metallic beat. "Psychopath" is stylistically similar to the previous track while "Sociopath" and "GRCY" lead the band back to the massacre of the unlucky listener's eardrums. Following is "Century", a (let’s say) quieter piece, "33 Something", the most violent on the record and also the most boring for my taste, and "War supply." "Schizianity" is one of my favorites, with its doom atmosphere that approaches Black Sabbath's "Master of Reality," and "Judgement of Posterity" returns with its thrash school hammering. The work concludes with "Deuce" (a Kiss cover), very nice and well played.
I reiterate that it is not the best album birthed from Quorthon's mind, lacking originality and at times repetitive, but it is nonetheless a step in the history of Bathory and if it had been musically more elaborate it would have received more resounding applause from critics and their fans.
Tracklist and Lyrics
01 Immaculate Pinetreeroad #930 (02:46)
Sixteen years of age. The suburb sets the scene.
Sixteen years of rage withheld and concealed.
Doors locked. Curtains drawn. Rehearsals begins.
Preparations made. The axe gets a final trim.
Shadowed figures came at night. The hands would
clutch and strike his thighs. The kid would not even
be weeping. This kid pretending he's sleeping.
Immaculate Pinetreeroad #930
Kept within his young strained mind all this damn time.
Not a hint at what grew steadily inside.
The hate during prayer at supper and the surpressed
at school. The need to be able to strike back grew.
Memories of fingers penetrating. Years of terror
generating emotions functioning as fuel
when this kid walks down his parents room.
Parts of bodies found. The blood splattered all around
The result of the hate unleashed. Just one shot was heard.
This suburb neighbourhood disturbed. This pained mind
has found peace. In the backyard. Shotgun at his side.
Difficult to identify. Sixteen years of age and dead.
Sixteen years of rage to an end.
Immaculate Pinetreeroad #930
03 Psychopath (03:20)
I want to kill you and share with you my pain.
And if it thrills you I'll gladly kill again.
I want to maim you. Your throat a bleeding well.
And before your damned body's cold you're already in hell.
This is my anger. My hurt and my hate.
This is my f*cking despair.
This is my inside. My thorn and my ache.
This is my grind and my tare.
I want to tie you up. Make you beg for release.
I'll whip your body beyond sense. Cut you down piece by
piece.
I want to rape you. I'll leave you bleed in death.
This is my lust and my distorted needs.
This is my wrath and my pain.
This is my kind. This is my creed.
This is my body and brain.
This is my anger. My hurt and my hate.
This is my f*cking despair.
This is my inside. Mt thorn and my ache.
This is my grind and my tare.
This is my lust and my distorted needs.
This is my wrath and my pain.
This is my kind. This is my creed.
This is my body and brain.
04 Sociopath (03:10)
Kill. Kill them all. Pigs written in blood on the walls.
Your not entitle to accuse and judge one single man
if you allow all shit that's happening in this damned
rotten land. The pressure your damned system,
religion and school puts on our minds creates an all
collective pain that no damn walls can keep inside.
Do you really think that all evil and madness rests in me.
Do you think you're safe locking me up
and then throwing away the key.
Can't you see I'm out, man. Can't you see I'm free.
Can't you see I'm out, man. Can't you see I'm just
a product of a broken nation's shattered dream.
Death. Death to all. Pigs screaming, The blood runs
down the walls. You'll never be successful trying to
keep the madness behind these walls because the pain
comes from inside and creates chaos within all.
You can put me in the chair and watch me fucking fry.
But I am aware my death's a nation's alibi.
Do you really think that all evil and madness rests in me.
Do you think you're safe locking me up
and then throwing away the key.
Can't you see I'm out, man. Can't you see I'm free.
Can't you see I'm out, man. Can't you see I'm just
a product of a broken nation's shattered dream.
Can't you see I'm out man. Can't you see I'm free.
Kill. Kill them all. Pigs written in blood on the walls.
Your not entitle to accuse and judge one single man
if you allow all shit that's happening in this damned
rotten land. The pressure your damned system,
religion and school puts on our minds creates an all
collective pain that no damn walls can keep inside.
Do you really think that all evil and madness rests in me.
Do you think you're safe locking me up
and then throwing away the key.
Can't you see I'm out, man. Can't you see I'm free.
Can't you see I'm out, man. Can't you see I'm just
a product of a broken nation's shattered dream.
06 Century (04:08)
Freedom of speech and that of information.
To gather in prayer and for demonstrations.
Freedom to choose. Freedom found driving a car.
To posess a remote control and the right to arm.
Supermarket. Machine gun. Voices talk from inside.
Unemployment and touchdown. Holy book full of lies.
Suicidal intentions. There's no kingdom up high.
Presidential elections. Superman never dies.
Conservatism. Communism. Paganism. Nationalsocialism
Liberalism. Satanism. Christianity. Slavery. Anarchy. Lunacy.
Insanity. Mediocracy. Assorted Century.
Genetic disortion and UN resolutions.
Pro-life and abortions. The final solution.
Vivi-section. Disorder. Cosmetique for the disabled.
Civil crime watch camcorder. Cocained soft drink containers.
Amusement and passion. Files on serial killers.
Abusement and fashion. Queenies Asshole refillers.
Read my lips. Need I say there's a lot of shit on the hill.
But it all fits in the grave. Somewhat more darkness and
chill.
Sociopath. Psychopath. Autograph. Schizofrenia. Empathy.
Biography. All humanity. Majority. Minority. But then
regardless of which it's a f*cking damn assorted century.
Conservatism. Communism. Paganism. Nationalsocialism
Liberalism. Satanism. Christianity. Slavery. Anarchy. Lunacy.
Insanity. Mediocracy. Assorted Century.
Sociopath. Psychopath. Autograph. Schizofrenia. Empathy.
Biography. All humanity. Majority. Minority. But then
regardless of which it's a fucking damn assorted century.
07 33 Something (03:16)
Chained to the log. Handcuffed and drugged
Still pain is all you feel
A piece of meat that hardly breathes
Still much a human being
Forcing his way into your ass
John Wayne Gacy is near
Flesh will rip and bloody will flow
This death comes in your rear
One of 33 Something
All who were raped and bled
The last thing you will ever hear
before your fucking dead is...
Drink my cum, take my rum
Blooded hole, twisted soul
Eat my shit, suck my dick
Writhe in pain and die insane
With every breath inhale the stench
of lubrication shit and sweat
The smell of love the smell of human
blood and excrement
Once you've played with Mr. Gacy
there's no way out. No release
In the attic is all hell, then in the
basement you'll find peace
One of 33 something
All who were raped and bled
The last thing you will ever hear
before your fucking dead is...
Drink my cum, take my rum
Blooded hole, twisted soul
Eat my shit, suck my dick
Writhe in pain and die insane
Drink my cum, take my rum
Blooded hole, twisted soul
Eat my shit, suck my dick
Writhe in pain and die insane
09 Schizianity (04:17)
I'm but a shell, a frame of a man, I'm but a glimpse of
Whom I used to be, I'm no more life and lust
I'm only rich on time to spend venting my own spleen
I'm sick as hell, I am in desperate need of heeling
Need to feel salvation, or I might as well embrace death
I could never stand a world of sin and fornication
The world is full of whores, all this filth and heresy
I am a tool of the Lord, I have eternal life
The will of God was executed through my deeds
The voice of God I heard, all filth and unclean I
Disintegrated to prepare Gods paradise in this world
I read the holy writings, I read Matthew's 18th chapter
7th, 8th, 9th, and I realised what had to be done
And that I just had so little time
The world is so full of sin, blasphemy and sacrilege
For as I believe in him, I have eternal life after death
What have I done so wrong, why have they put me in this
Place without no windows, I'm no more life and lust
I'm only rich on time to spend venting my own spleen
The world is so full of fools, vagrant souls and lustful flesh
But as I believe in him, I have eternal life after death
10 Judgement of Posterity (05:11)
Ten million barrels at sea. Atmospheric temperature
increases.
Fourhundredthousand acres a day. Post-generation to pay.
Chimneys spew death day and night. Chemicals with every
bite.
Layer of mist in the sky. Filtering no more the light.
Toxic waste. Debris. On land, in the air and at sea.
You can't shut it out. With every breath reality.
This is the key. Objection of history. Now all that remains...
The judgement of posterity.
Toxic waste. Debris. On land, in the air and at sea.
You can't shut it out. With every breath reality.
This is the key. Objection of history. Now all that remains...
The judgement of posterity.
Substances lethal en masse. Genetical codes harassed.
Disassembled and distorted chains of DNA nourished
to breed life again. Elevated. Erected. Enriched.
Developed. Perfected and pitched. Educated. Equipped
and supreme. Initiated. Homo Sapiens. Human being.
Toxic waste. Debris. On land, in the air and at sea.
You can't shut it out. With every breath reality.
This is the key. Objection of history. Now all that remains...
The judgement of posterity.
Toxic waste. Debris. On land, in the air and at sea.
You can't shut it out. With every breath reality.
This is the key. Objection of history. Now all that remains...
The judgement of posterity.
Ten million barrels at sea. Atmospheric temperature
increases.
Fourhundredthousand acres a day. Post-generation to pay.
Toxic waste. Debris. On land, in the air and at sea.
You can't shut it out. With every breath reality.
This is the key. Objection of history. Now all that remains...
The judgement of posterity.
Toxic waste. Debris. On land, in the air and at sea.
You can't shut it out. With every breath reality.
This is the key. Objection of history. Now all that remains...
The judgement of posterity.
11 Deuce (03:42)
Get up
And get your grandma outta here
Pick up
Old Jim is workin' hard this year
And baby
Do the things he says to do
Baby, if you're feeling good
And baby if you're feeling nice
You know your man is workin' hard
He's worth a deuce
Honey
Don't put your man behind his years
And baby
Stop cryin' all your tears
Baby
Do the things he says to do
Do it
Baby, if you're feeling good
And baby if you're feeling nice
You know your man is workin' hard
He's worth a deuce
And baby, if you're feeling good
Yes baby if you're feeling nice
You know your man is workin' hard
Yeah
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