For as much as I pride myself an expert on blackened thrash, Barbarian are one of those bands whose name I’d heard for the better part of this webzine’s existence, and always said, “I’ll check ’em out next time.” I’m not sure what took so long. Even a mediocre blackened thrash record does more for me on a good day than most new releases in general. Furthermore, they hail from Italy: A country known for producing some of the most iconic filth-mongers to ever walk the earth (i.e. Bulldozer, Fingernails, etc.) In this regard, I view Italian metal the way I view Belgian metal, and that is by telling myself, “These guys couldn’t suck if they tried.”
While Barbarian certainly don’t reach the heights of their aforementioned forefathers, as I suspected, they don’t suck either. Their (66)sixth album, Reek of God, is a no-nonsense, all gas, no brakes slab of blackened thrash with an extra dose of piss and vinegar to boot. Unlike other genre stars who have graced these here virtual pages, there are no attempts throughout the album’s 12 song, 35 minute runtime to ascend to a higher musical plane. There are no overambitious maneuvers, no attempts of At War with Satan era Venom or Under the Sign of the Black Mark era Bathory grandiosity to be found. No, this is pure black-thrash, straight from the sewers of Italia.
By and large, the lion’s share of the songs follows the same formula. We’ve got equal measures hard-thrashing aggression, old school blackened devilry, and a heart F.O.A.D. punk rock attitude, the latter of which rears its spiked head more so than the other two qualities on multiple cuts. For example, take “Maxima Culpa”, “Sledgehammer”, and “Cancer Cross”. With their d-beat dominant rhythms and equally Dischargian riffs, these are pretty unabashed outbursts of metalpunk, not far removed from masked madmen (or rather madman, singular) Midnight in their earliest, demo days.
As a result of this “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” ethos, Reek of God does tend to sound a tad samey as it goes on, with each song blurring into the next. This isn’t a good sign for any album, yet alone one with such a brief runtime. The only real standouts to this reviewer’s ear is the infernal Show No Mercy era Slayer rager that is “Crossburn” and a most unexpected cover of L7’s “Freak Magnet”. Despite my usual disdain for the “Seattle sound”, as it is called, L7 are one of the few acts of the scene I’ve always enjoyed, and I’m pleasantly surprised how well their murky grunge-metal translates to a blackened metalpunk framework. It must be that underlying love of Motörhead, which has bonded every metal and punk act of the past 45 years.
Barbarian’s Reek of God certainly doesn’t reek to high heavens (or hells), but it isn’t the freshest smelling flower in the first wave black metal worship field either, especially when we’re roughly two months away from a new Hellripper album (Good luck to any other bands releasing a new album on March 27th. You’re gonna need it.) It is what it is: Blackened, blasphemous, and barbaric, which seems to be what this band is all about in the first place. Perhaps I should dive into their back catalog, handled by the devils at Hells Headbangers, and become better acquainted with this trenchant trio. Keep it smelly, Paisans!
6 out of 10
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Genre: Black/Thrash Metal
For fans of: Midnight, Bunker 66, Celtic Frost