Welcome to another edition of From My Collection. For whatever reason or another, I’ve been on an early ’70s US metal kick as of late, revisiting the likes of Sir Lord Baltimore, Bang, Cactus, Bloodrock, Captain Beyond, and so forth as of late (all on vinyl, of course). Another band who falls into this distinct category is Dust: A short-lived power trio based out of New York City. During their brief existence, Dust cranked out two now legendary slabs of early American metal, the latter of which we’re revisiting in today’s essay, Hard Attack. Indeed, it’s go hard or go home, so be sure to bring your sharpest sword and strongest shield before reading this one!
Like many of the American acts we can attribute to pioneering the genre we know and love today as heavy metal, Dust was formed in 1969 by three teenagers armed with only their instruments, amps, and an urge to rock out. Fronting the band on guitars and vocals was Richie Wise, then 18 years old. Holding down the rhythm was bassist Kenny Aaronson (17 years old) and drummer Marc Bell (also 17 years old). Together, the three rocked their way around the Big Apple, and ultimately caught the attention of manager Kenny Kerner, who’d latch on as a sort of fourth member, producing their albums and penning their lyrics.
Upon inking a deal with Kama Sutra Records, the band would quickly record and release their eponymous debut album, which hit record store shelves in January of 1971. Now considering the box office success of Rosemary’s Baby (1968) and the inverted cross-adorned gatefold of Black Sabbath’s self-titled debut a year earlier, this swinging generation were no strangers to ghoulish imagery. And yet something tells me the sight of three actual human skeletons, like those that graced the cover of Dust’s debut, were enough to scare the living daylights out of the general record buying public, resulting in the album being a commercial failure.
Nevertheless, Dust persisted, expanding upon the foundation laid down on their debut with their second and final album, the aptly titled Hard Attack. Instead of freaking kids out with another cover clad with cadavers, for this outing, Dust opted for an equally metal album cover of three warriors mid-battle, illustrated by the legendary Frank Frazetta. In this regard, Dust are metal pioneers not just musically, but visually as well, establishing two aesthetics that would become crucial to the genre in the years to follow, gore and fantasy/battle.
As we drop the needle on Hard Attack, we’re greeted by the half-acoustic, half-electric stylings of “Pull Away / So Many Times”. With its frantic delivery and bombastic arrangement, not to mention the balance between folksy acoustic guitars and boisterous early metal instrumentation, the song almost plays like a prototype for the epic hard rock Ashbury would pursue a decade later. In many ways, Dust were a band ahead of their time, and this song is the first of a few examples we’ll hear throughout the course of Hard Attack.
Creeping in as a bit of a palette cleanse, “Walk in the Soft Rain” follows with its docile folk rock stylings. There are some hard-edged guitar melodies and powerful drumming snuck in, but for the most part, this song lies somewhere between CSNY and The Eagles. Considering the variety of styles that dominated the rock scene at the time, and the fact that Dust themselves were still young, impressionable consumers of new music, I can’t help but think the inclusion of musical side quests like this one fed into their desire to create more than “just another” metal album.
As if “Walk in the Soft Rain” wasn’t enough of an outlier in its own right, “Thusly Spoken” doubles down on Dust’s soft rocking ways, sounding less in line with the heavy hitters of the day and more like a McCartney penned latter era Beatles obscurity, complete with piano and strings. At this point, you might be asking ourself, “What business does an album with songs such as these have being covered on a so called metal site?” Well smart aleck, that answer comes in the form of side A’s closer, “Learning to Die”, and if that doesn’t sell you on Dust’s metal credibility, I don’t know what will.
I mentioned earlier how ahead of its time “Pull Away / So Many Times” was, and how there’d be more examples to follow. “Learning to Die” is one such example. Whereas “Pull Away / So Many Times” still owes its being to the sounds of the heavy ’70s, there is nothing and I mean NOTHING remotely “’70s sounding” about “Learning to Die”. Fast, frenetic, and absolutely ripping from start to finish, “Learning to Die” is one of the earliest pure traditional metal songs ever recorded, at times resembling Iron Maiden’s “Killers” in terms of riffs and structure. Perhaps a young Steve Harris got his hands on this album? I wouldn’t be surprised.
When we flip over to side B, we’re greeted by more heavy ’70s goodness in the form of “All in All”. Although more melodic and subdued than “Learning to Die”, “All in All” is still an excellent rollicking number with singalong vocal lines and thumping rhythms reminiscent of another iconic power trio of the day, Grand Funk Railroad. Simple and straightforward, it’s one of those early ’70s bangers that make you want to crank up the volume dial until the foundations of your house are shaking. Loud n’ proud baby, that’s how we like it!
“I Been Thinkin'” serves as yet another soft/folk/country rock foray, and truth be told, is the strongest of the album’s dissidents to my ear. There’s a subtle honesty to the lyrics and song itself (riddled with pedal steel guitar) that remind me of Gram Parsons era Byrds. Whereas “Walk in the Soft Rain” and “Thusly Spoken” go on a little too long, “I Been Thinkin'” ends before it even really begins, fading away just a little after the 2 minute mark and leaving us longing for more.
For side B’s median, Dust wallops us with an absolute clinic of ’70s metal fury. “Ivory” sees the band shifting into high gear, going full blown jazz metal mania. Wise alternates between meaty riffs and face-melting leads, Aaronson thumps away on the bass, and Bell’s cymbal-laden drum attack reminds us of the solos being unleashed by Grand Funk’s Don Brewer and Black Sabbath’s Bill Ward at the time. It’s an intense, riveting exercise in unabashed musicality, with just the right amount of primitive attack to keep it raw.
The Parsons era Byrds formula explored on “I Been Thinkin'” is revisited on the album’s last mellow moment, “How Many Horses” (A fine country rock ballad, if I must say so myself), before Dust absolutely pummels us, saving the heaviest, or the very least the bleakest, for last. I remember the first time I heard “Suicide” at the tender age of 10 or 11. I had discovered Dust via a book entitled The Encyclopedia of Heavy Metal. Upon reading their entry, I decided to do some digging, and checked out “Suicide” on YouTube. Immediately, I was hooked. The riffs were evil as hell, the bass solo was schizo, and those lyrics…holy hell, Black Sabbath seemed quaint by comparison. To this day, I’m amazed a major label let such treacherous lyrics fly. Only in a pre-PMRC world, my friends!
Much like the album that preceded it, Hard Attack was a commercial failure, which is a shame, because it offered something for everyone, hard rockers and soft rockers alike. Amidst writing what would’ve been the band’s third album, Dust splintered due to lack of interest. However, unlike most ’70s metal acts who simply faded into obscurity, this story does have a happy ending! Wise and manager Kerner teamed up to become a successful production duo, discovering a little band called KISS. You might’ve heard of them. Aaronson would go onto score a #1 hit in “Brother Louie” as the bassist for Stories. From there, he’d hold down the low end for fellow ’70s metal titans Derringer (we’ll have to tackle them soon), Joan Jett, Billy Squier, Billy Idol, Bob Dylan, and The Yardbirds, amongst others. And as for little Marc Bell, well, his story had the wildest plot twist of all. Come the end of the decade, Bell would trade his bellbottoms for skinny jeans, and change his name to Marky Ramone, becoming the drummer for, you guessed it, Ramones. The rest, as they say, is history!
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