Welcome to another edition of From My Collection. Today, we’re going back in time to revisit the early days of death metal. We’re all familiar with the endless Possessed vs. Death debate, but what about all the bands in between? There’s Repulsion, Necrophagia, Master, and Death Strike, just to name a few. Hell, we can even throw Slayer, Kreator, and Sepultura into the discussion to make things interesting. One such band who fell into this odd middle ground between thrash and death metal was Canada’s Slaughter. Their first and only studio album, Strappado, is a landmark release for extreme metal, yet not nearly as acknowledged or acclaimed as Seven Churches and Scream Bloody Gore. I hope this feature helps change that.
I’ve always been a death metal snob. Coming of age in the early 2010s, to say the genre’s prospects were bleak would be an understatement. It had been close to two decades since bands like Cannibal Corpse, Suffocation, and Cryptopsy set the bar for brutality within the genre. Yet here was a nation of Cattle Decapitation and Cattle Decapitation juniors doing exactly what had already been done before: Blinded by the lie that more is more. How many times can one hear the same old pig squeals, chug riffing, and faster than the speed of light blasts before going on a real life killing spree like the ones described in this genre’s lyrics?
What made early death metal so unique is that every band sounded unique. Put on Impetigo and I’ll know it’s Impetigo. Put on Morbid Angel and I’ll know it’s Morbid Angel. Put on Entombed and forgive me if I blurt out Gatecreeper. I kid, I kid. But there’s a larger point to made here. All of the bands I just listed didn’t know they were playing “death metal” when they came about. They didn’t set out to play any particular style or subgenre. They just set out to make metal that was as fast and extreme as possible.
This brings us to Slaughter’s Strappado. Released in 1987, Strappado is one of the nastiest, deadliest, and downright rotten albums ever pressed on wax. If you stuck an audio jack into a freshly cut, raw, bloody piece of meat, chances are you’d hear this album. This unholy mutation of thrash, death and hardcore couldn’t be faked, which gives it much of its appeal. Like most underground 80s metal releases, there’s an explicit honesty to Strappado that really hasn’t been heard or felt since. Replicated? Sure. Considering this album is nearly 35 years old, it’s probably been replicated a thousand times over. But no matter how well intended these worship bands are, or how legitimate their teen (or twenty something year old) angst may be, they merely stand in the shadow of the gods who came before them.
Strappado gets a lot done in 9 songs and a little over 23 minutes, so let’s start from the beginning. The album begins with the cacophonous title track. This minute and a half firestorm is the musical equivalent of a shotgun blast to the head. Is it hardcore? Is it death metal? Both? Who knows and who cares. There’s blastbeats galore and riffs sharp enough to slice you in half…and it’s only the first song.
Now by 1987, Celtic Frost had abandoned the very sound that put them on the map. They were always avant-garde, but now they only wanted to be known as avant-garde, as if “metal” was a dirty word. Slaughter knew that was lame and picked up where Tom G. Warrior left off on track 2, “The Curse”. Not only do the riffs display that Frostbitten quality, but frontman Dave Hewson delivers gruff proto-guttural vocals akin to Hellhammer era Warrior.
Speaking of vocals, I’d like to take this moment to point a little something out. Some will argue Strappado is not death metal, but merely an extreme thrash album in the same vein as Dark Angel’s Darkness Descends. To that I say listen closely to the riffs throughout. Then go listen to the first two Autopsy albums. The fact of the matter is, bands like Slaughter and Dream Death (perhaps more on them in a future feature) are the missing link between Celtic Frost and Autopsy. Now back to the album.
“Disintegrator / Incinerator” is the Strappado‘s punkiest moment, filled with thrashy mosh riffs and lyrics criticizing the system (“In suits they were dressed, when the button was pressed / They fed upon semen, the government’s a demon.”) Closing out Side A is the filthy “Parasites”, which lies somewhere between Celtic Frost flavored thrash and grinding blasting death. Side B further expands upon this formula.
Is it possible to listen to “F.O.D. (Fuck of Death)” without headbanging in slow motion with a scowl upon your face as if you just smelled a rotting corpse? I think not. “Tortured Souls” follows the same trajectory as “Parasites”, yet its slow sections are even doomier, sounding a tad like Sabbath. Meanwhile, “Nocturnal Hell” presents the same challenge as “F.O.D.”. I’m telling you folks! If your necks aren’t moving up and down, you’re as dead as the skeletons who grace the cover of this masterpiece. OUGH! Closing it all out are the ever gory and ever haunting “Tales of the Macabre”. Need I say more?
I’ve listened to Strappado a zillion times. I’ll listen to it a zillion times more and I’ll never grow sick of it. I think part of it is because of its brief running time. If it were any longer, it may just lose some of its primitive charm. But I think the real reason is because thick, repulsive riffs are timeless. Would I love to see Slaughter reunite? You bet. Much like Impetigo, I honestly believe that even in their 50s they could destroy today’s OSDM crop. Yet it speaks volumes that they haven’t. Instead of compromising or attempting to recapture what once was, they let what’s already there continue to do the talking. And that is why I’ll never get sick of Strappado. I might get sick from it, but never sick of it.