Exciter
Violence & Force

THE REVIEW

These bastards!

I stumbled upon them when I was young, after subscribing to Curcio's heavy metal magazine series with a dictionary and bi-weekly CD releases. I remember that after a few months they stopped sending stuff to my house, but those 12-13 records I got were a shock in my life. At the time, for me, metal started with the A of AC/DC and ended with the I of Iron Maiden. I couldn't stand the long-haired guys with Metallica-written Invicta backpacks, but it was an irrational, gut-level hate that I paid for a long time in terms of heavy "culture". Anyway, since thrash had no place in my home, Curcio took care of it: the first release, "Killing is my business", then "Lessons in violence" followed by these crazy Canadians with an outrageous cover.

I devoured the CD (but without admitting to myself that I absolutely loved it), playing and replaying the eponymous track like a head-on collision, a truck hitting you head-on, electric saw guitar and wild screams for the anthem “TAKEN BY VIOLENCE AND FORCE”. Used to the sound architecture of the Young brothers and the maiden softness (yes, softness, you heard right), I was literally devastated by this stuff that seemed to have no rhyme or reason, created solely to punch you: what the heck, isn't some harmony expected here?
I stopped there, gradually returning to the comforting serenity instilled by my idols, but attacked by a self-destructive doubt: maybe the "real" metal is this hellish noise, and if I don't understand it it's because I'm not up to it, I'm just too “easy” of a metalhead, something to be ashamed of.
One day when I was short on cash, I took the Curcio CDs to the Sinigaglia fair and sold everything for 15,000 lire, but with the money in hand, I was tempted by the vinyl of "Ace of Spades". I went back home with Lemmy dressed as a cowboy and more broke than before. I kept only the Megadeth, after all, that album wasn't strictly thrash.
But. There’s a but. Years pass, and that creeping doubt had already produced its effects: at 25, I decide metal is no longer suitable, stuff for pimply and dissociated kids, I dive into classical, almost going about selling all my metal gear to buy Bach and Mozart. A little voice inside me says resist!, I listen to it and limit the damage to overdubbing tapes that never really convinced me much: Ratt, Poison, and Twisted Sister were replaced by piano sonatas and concerts.

A few years later, after the madrigals hangover, one day of utter paranoia I find myself at Messaggerie. Lost in the quest for my new genre to sacrifice nights of reading and listening, I end up in the metal section, just for laughs, to see what these clowns are selling. Clearance shelf, blatantly displayed the gruesome cover (artistically speaking) of "Violence and Force", the murderous hand crushed by the door. It's a revelation, I involuntarily start humming "TAKEN BY VIOLENCE AND FORCE", louder and louder the mighty drum, the riff warble resonates stronger in my mind, after a minute I dredge up the absurd verses from memory too. It's a moment, I grab the CD, fly to the checkout, 8 euros special price, the cashier looks at me, what the heck do you want?, they're for my 12-year-old little brother.

I go home, amp at full blast, the house trembles, the resurrected Exciter resolidify the molten metal in my veins for years. It's a rebirth, a return to childhood, or perhaps at thirty-four I've simply realized that my highway to hell was never abandoned. I was just stationary for a while at the service station. Thinking if I could allow myself thrash as well.

Dedicated to and inspired by Lord Bartle, review of the Exumer.