Tankard
The Meaning Of Life

What is the meaning of life? For the Tankard, a German beercore-thrash band, certainly to entertain and have fun, play fast cheek to cheek with ironic lyrics, deliver Thrash Metal without ever taming it or diluting it with industrial temptations.

The charm of these five guys from Frankfurt is the key to their success, but not only that. It's not just about creating smiles or colorful T-shirts on black backgrounds, nor is it about cunningly calculating sound compression or drum timings, the right bass intro, or the skillful melodic pause garnished with a suffering voice, not at all.
It's the song form that Gerre and company display that inflames the hearts of many thrashers, undoubtedly moved to listen gratefully to sharp riffs, not original but efficient, as well as to short-circuited solos but also rational and melodic. Andy Bulgaropulos and Axel Katzmann, the two axes, are not Jeff Hannemann and Kerry King, but they unleash an immense charge. On this platter, unlike the previous ones, the rhythm section is well balanced, thanks to the new drummer Arnulf Tunn, decidedly more technical than the still impressive Oliver Werner, and the almost decade-long bassist Frank Thorwart, always present and precise.

The cardinal peculiarity of Tankard has not been the musical direction change, but rather the constant growth during the first four years of record releases, also studded with a handful of killer songs and, no less, the active participation of all the members in songwriting. Hence the album that would provide the band with the greatest economic satisfactions (www.metalmillennium.net/stage), released in 1990 and featuring a splendid cover capturing a jaded Mike Tyson, the lazybones Pope Woityla and Chancellor Kohl, and the alien mascot reading the hand of the little convinced "doctor mixologist" who also appears on the cover of "Chemical Invasion": the whole gang is seated at the tables of the Space Beer, a tasty, witty picture full of hot colors with the band's logo reigning as a banner of simple and never vulgar irony.

Great fiesta on the back cover, with the smiling band, starting from the rookie Arnulf (a fan of Ventor and Dave Lombardo), all masters of their own means, with the fiery instruments forging the '70s riff of the opening track "Open All Night", that is, bars open all night without any restrictions: double bass of Arnulf in evidence and a hissing solo that slashes the "zzzz" of the guitars and gets lost in the wind like a poorly digested echo superseded by the hoarse and participative throat of Andreas "Gerre" Geremia who joins the heavy orchestra. One of the best beginnings I've ever heard in Thrash Metal field. "Beermuda" is the burst of beer wordplays in the Tankard house, which serve to project us into the Sargasso Sea, into the famous islands risen to new Cockaigne, a daydream that is also the pretext for a textbook thrash ride missing some pages, not at all innovative, fast and technical, very Slayer-like in the deceleration and consequent restart. These tracks highlight the new sonic makeover by faithful producer Harris Johns (with the band since its inception, a record) that is closer to American Thrash, therefore more sparkling than "The Morning After", more sculpted, but also less powerful. This sonic shift allows the band to weave something new and endure within the metallic temple of the time, along with roster changes that refresh the band's musical proposal. However, "Always Them" seems to replicate "Beermuda" and the petty affair materializes: rocket launches in four out of ten songs underline the group's repetitiveness even to fans yearning for "Reign In Blood" endlessly repeated.

The evident qualitative progression of Pestilence in four albums (read the booklet notes by Monte Conner in the compilation "Mind Reflections") seems unattainable for the five Germans. Even the title-track does not escape the raison d'état for survival, with the initial parody and well-declaimed verse by Gerre always at full throttle, whereas the equally swift "Dancing On Our Grave" surprises with its apocalyptic text, with crossed fingers, in which a school bus choir interjects; also ad hoc title with "Space Beer", a classic cadenced song just to catch a breath after the sudden run of the other songs: Andreas Geremia's vocal cords break free meeting the fans' favor.

In 1990 "Seasons In The Abyss" and "Rust in Peace" were crushing everything and everyone but the Tankard are there and are still here today, with only Gerre and Frank from the lineup that generated "Zombie Attack". "The Meaning Of Life" remains a good album, inferior to "The Morning After" despite the energized drummer and more refined production (but also the various beers) leading it to calm waters.