Sanctuary
Refuge Denied

THE REVIEW

In first analysi I would ask myself pourquoi-mai they did not grant Them the (infantilistic) asylum, why, I say, well, Pourquoi? (Yet it is established that for a performant learning path the only Ele/Alimentary iter is not completely suffitzient (rather than not).

Setting aside the fantastical ramblings et focusing on the hard {ovo} [thus in this sense I would self-masochistically invite you to carry out the only possible reasonable cliqqative act, that is]:

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Now: in the rather unlikely event that some skipped the aquleized trench and remained generously/stoically, I shall speak vivisectionally [so to speak] of the Sanctuary’d “denied asylum”: an ultra-metallic/booming debut work, dating back now to the more than emaciated past centuries (MCMLXXXVII, to be Romanly and chrono-cipherably clear), conceived by the fluent/long-maned Seattle quintet in tungsten-question.

Nothing else but one of the most audio-corporeally marvelous works ever récorded in the massively sound-warlike field; {de-}platter (an {not only}metal-vinyl definition {used/ab} dating back to the parchmentished fortnightly pages of H/M some good twenty odd years ago) that while transcending and being born and thrashing about based on already published dark/metalipherous soundscapes previously exposed by other entities [very early Metal Church and intermediate, titanic, Savatage], it thickens and robustly enhances, taking it to the dangerously extreme consequences, the basaltic sound above creating what, to listen even today, stands rightfully among the most sqùòtenti cries ever (I do not love exaggerations, as is evident) made in the hair-raised belligerent world of heavily/mentally beaten (what have cymbals/drummerie ever done to deserve this?) cymbals/drummerie assorted, tormented/guitars and stentorian vocals, from the archeozoic until today.

Produced by Megamortiferous Dave Mustaine (one of the rare worthy actions to be remembered..), this corpulent debut lives and ejects a holy and meticulous three-quarter of an hour of belligerant/epic monstrously dense sturdy-material: starting from the unpredictable coveritzation of the old-lysergic “White Rabbit” from late-sixties memory, transformed into an authentic pentagrammatic-menhir endowed with tearing guitar progression as well as a generally spectacularly compelling progression.

Warrel Dane muscular and torn vocalist of exception, launches His disruptive darts as if he were a raving condemned to scorching flames, offering a masterful/her suit performance and tsunamesquely involving.
The formidable “Battle Angels” exceptional opening, clarifies without hesitation basically what will be the authentic sound-hurricane of which one will become (un)voluntarily and pitilessly (joyful and exhausted) auricular-victims during the course of the following eight-tracks: carcinogenic/dynamiting guitars (at vitriol) para-thrash capable of depicting with extraordinary efficacy and unexpected verisimilitude unsettling (and yet livid) apocalyptic scenarios; furthermore, a very robust/wallsome as well as very fluid rhythm section definitively topples whatever little was left (miraculously) standing from the molten lava sound previously and frantically (sui generis) described.

Every fragment shines, I would dare to say blinds, with very intense audio-lùx: I would cite, exclusively as an example, the powerful and stoic “Die For My Sins” or the titanic “Soldiers Of Steel” (despite a title (in)worthy of the “best” Man(o)war) it lives and feeds between chiaroscuro obscure/presagistic depictions and as swift as overwhelming accelerations in its (not at all pompous as very often happened and still happens today) magnificent, dazing epic neuron-shaker.

Elle Pì (finally) absolutely to recover, restore, thus, in synthetic substance, reevaluate, despite the nearly-dos (past) decades since the publication, especially considering the irrefutable and irrepeated vertiginous musical-quality contained therein, that never (in the second and pre-disbandment "SpecchioOscurato"-work) will be reaffirmed in the future, as well as in what is expressed by the solid and well-known contemporary creature guided by the vocally stormy Sir Nevermore.