52 Albums That Shaped My Life - #11

Monster Magnet – Dopes to Infinity

(A&M, 1995)

Buy the album here

There are albums that always feel like you’re coming home when you listen to them.  You’ve been away a long time, and the welcoming familiarity of those sounds brings back relaxing and reassuring memories.  But it’s not just the nostalgic comfort it brings, it’s the quality of the sounds, and that sense the music, like your home, exists within you the whole time.  Dopes to Infinity is one such album.  Monster Magnet accomplished this simply by not trying.  They weren’t trying to be anything, they only wrote and performed the music they were destined to make, with no pretensions, no posturing.  While the band lost that natural feel over the next four albums – Powertrip was an attempt to become hard rock icons (and did this brilliantly); God Says No came off as a self-aware diversification of their sound; Monolithic Baby! was a disjointed mish-mash of the previous two albums; and 4-Way Diablo felt like they were lacking direction or inspiration – they would regain it spectacularly with the release of Mastermind.  It’s the spaced-out, laidback, drug-fuzz of Mastermind and Dopes to Infinity that is the best of Monster Magnet.  On these albums the notes, echoed vocals, organic solos drift from one astral plane to another, combining corporeal pleasures, metaphysical meanderings, dream-like imaginings, and modern cultural references to form a space rock cornucopia.

Title track “Dopes to Infinity” is a clear example of this, effortlessly sliding from dense stoner riffs to floating on heavenly clouds through the gentle hum of the backing vocal and the perfectly mixed guitar lead.  That’s without mentioning how utterly righteous Dave Wyndorf’s voice is, and its ability to imbue words like, “We are all here my friends/Alive and spaced but all so beautiful”, with both cool and gravitas.  I haven’t always understood what Wyndorf is singing about, but I’ve always felt like it means something.  The seamless transition into second track, “Negasonic Teenage Warhead”, takes us to Monster Magnet’s first notice to the world that they could write incredible rock anthems.  Essentially conveying Wyndorf’s disappointment at Kurt Cobain’s elevation to rock star and the accompanying saddening of rock ‘n’ roll, Monster Magnet wanted to remind the mid-90s that it was ok to rock out JUST FOR FUN.  Big bass, killer riff, cyclonic theremin sounds (?), rock screams, and a giant pogo-ing chorus all combine to create the foundations for giant rock hits on next album Powertrip.  In 2001, Scottish comics geniuses Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely used the track title to name their new teenage X-Men trainee character, who was subsequently brilliantly re-imagined as a disaffected teen with explosive powers in the 2016 film Deadpool.  These things seem to exist in meta-textual harmony as Monster Magnet used a Jack Kirby Marvel character to name the fifth track here, “Ego, the Living Planet”, most recently seen depicted by Kurt Russell in Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2.  I have it on good authority that Kurt Russell is a huge Monster Magnet fan.  It’s all connected…

“Ego, the Living Planet” is built on a cosmically repetitive, driving stoner riff with monk-like chanting and frantic lead woodling lying just below the surface.  The only vocals are the briefly repeated line, “I talk to planets baby”, and the screams of presumably planet-devoured souls.  Wyndorf’s love for and fascination with the epic sci-fi and philosophical work of comic writer and artist Jack Kirby inspired him to create a song about one of his most innovative characters, a living planet.  The size of the riff and the cosmic feel to the whole song perfectly capture the feeling of awe such a character can inspire.  But Monster Magnet being Monster Magnet, they pivot in the following track, lulling us back to comfort with gentle strumming and loving vocal melodies in “Blow ‘Em Off”.  Monster Magnet are in such a perfect groove on this record that you never notice the changes of tone, the shifts from quiet to loud, or the difference between hallucinatory visions and very real observations from the world of 1995.

It is difficult to pull out favourite tracks from Dopes… because each song has at least moments that near perfection, but Monster Magnet reach levels of undeniable stoner excellence in “King of Mars” and “All Friends and Kingdom Come”.  In the former, Wyndorf shines the light on another comics influence, Edgar Rich Burroughs, by referencing two of his most iconic creations with the single line, “And I can crown me Tarzan, King of Mars”, while taking us on a journey through soundscapes of heavy, reverberating, open string strumming, gentle leads, booming bass, and perfectly unnoticeable drums.  “All Friends and Kingdom Come” seems to describe the megalomaniacal actions of another comic character from Evil Ernie, who, having been given Armageddon-like superpowers, holds the future of humanity in his psychotic hands.  Where “King…” displayed the brilliance of Ed Mundell, Joe Calandra, and Jon Kleiman on their instruments, “All Friends…” presents the subtle melodies of Dave Wyndorf’s voice as the focal point. 

“King…” keeps us hooked with detailed soundscapes, “All Friends…” with simplicity and immediacy, but both display how completely interwoven the band’s various sounds, tones, and ideas are on this record.  The experience of listening to this record is one of seamlessly flowing sounds, images, tastes, smells, and touch.  It is the gentlest of trips because, even though it rocks incredibly hard at times, it never forces things, never pushes things where they don’t want to go as musicians, and where you as listener rather they wouldn’t.  It is undoubtedly healthy for artists to push themselves into unfamiliar territory in the pursuit of new forms of art, but sometimes it is more enjoyable to witness artists working at the peak of their ability within their limits, simply riffing on what they already know and bringing us along for the ride.  As with the brilliance of White Zombie, there is little point trying to discuss all the detail that goes into a record like this, all I can suggest is finding a copy of Dopes to Infinity and letting your mind be blown to kingdom come.  

    

52 Albums That Shaped My Life - #21

Corrosion of Conformity – In The Arms of God

(Sanctuary, 2005)

Buy the album here

Let’s start by addressing why this Corrosion of Conformity album, and not Deliverance or Wiseblood, is the topic of this post.  When In The Arms of God made its long-awaited appearance I had been a COC fan for nearly ten years, and I considered both their classic mid-90s albums among my all-time favourites.  Deliverance and Wiseblood are genre-defining albums that bridged the gap from heavy metal to more MTV-friendly hard rock without sacrificing an ounce of the band’s originality, credibility, or identity.  Their southern-fried metal-rock crossover is infused with politicised anger, provocative lyrics, and cultured musicianship.  They are important albums that continue to dominate my thoughts and shape the music that I’m drawn towards.  They are the albums that COC fans will discuss and debate online to determine which is their best.  But neither of them have quite captured my imagination or challenged my preconceptions of the genre in the way of In The Arms of God.  This is an album that intertwines the epic, the personal, the domestic, and all things in between.  It constructs for itself an aural atmosphere that enhances the songs in the moment and the memory of your listening experience after the fact.  It is impassioned song-writing laid down in surprising and exciting ways, and I have no doubts that there are many more COC fans who consider it their favourite record, whether consciously or not.  I am writing about this COC album because it is their best.

Flooding in on a wave of organ, the opening solo sets out COC’s approach on this record: they don’t give a shit what people expect.  This record is going to go where the hell it pleases, is going to ask you questions you’ve never been asked, and isn’t really going to care what your answer is.  It is at times catastrophically heavy but somehow never steps outside of the hard rock/metal crossover for which COC are known.  “Stone Breaker” may have taken fans by surprise on first listen, but it is a spine-tingling and dynamic song that plays with Led Zeppelin guitar epic stylings, hardcore aggression, and gigantic, irresistible riffs that will have people’s heads flying off their necks.  All that without even mentioning the stellar drumming performance of stand-in drummer, Stanton Moore, who brings a depth of sound and drum fill prowess that are impressive and memorable.  The seamless manner in which Mike Dean’s bass sound and Moore’s drum lines work together is testament to their abilities and contributes to a heavier overall sound.  That heaviness continues with “Paranoid Opioid” in which we are thrashed relentlessly by a riff from COC’s hardcore days while being spun into confusion by the psyched-out vocals.  As strong as this opening duo is, it’s third track “It Is That Way” that will have fans feeling at home.  The train samples and echoed drums of the intro give the impression the band are playing in some NOLA dirt patch, while the slower paced bluesy guitar tones from Woody Weatherman and Pepper Keenan’s welcoming drawl hark back to earlier work, and perfectly set up the listener for the album’s most idiosyncratic and atmospheric passage.

“Dirty Hands Empty Pockets/Already Gone”, like its title, is split: part rumbling bass with gravelly spoken word, part giant riff explosions.  It feels like pure COC, but is bold enough to spend more time on building anticipation than on the catchy, headbanging sections.  It’s a decision that pays off with each lunge into that riff being a highlight of the album. “Rise River Rise” is another.  Again displaying patience and a willingness to stand out from its surroundings, this track takes the layered atmospherics to the hilt with three guitar sounds flowing over one another.  A thick electric sound forms the foundation upon which an electro-acoustic riff slides, before squealing leads offer accents and changes of direction.  Pepper Keenan’s hard rock clean vocal and the wailed and whispered backing vocals perfectly complete the epic disaster atmosphere that ties so neatly into the biblical feel of this album.  It is a truly entrancing song.

After extended atmospherics “Never Turns to More” bursts to life with phenomenal drumming and breakneck riffing.  The long bridge section is filled with beautiful guitar and vocal details and fully justifies this track’s status as the album’s longest.  “Infinite War” is much quicker to get to the point.  Blistering with hardcore aggro, tight riffing, and pounding drumming, this song steps on your neck to ram home its simple message.  In the brief moments it eases up the musicianship is astounding.  Weatherman’s leads, the weight of Moore’s drums feeling like 60s and 70s psych, and Keenan’s vocals all bring unique qualities that enhance and diversify this brutal rager. 

COC introduce the album’s final passage with the classically mid-paced “World On Fire”.  Weatherman’s closing solo is epic, and is the final moment of light before the melancholy of “Crown of Thorns” and the utter devastation of “In The Arms of God”.  The former is upsetting with its cries of pain, distorted spoken word samples, and eerie rocking chair sounds building a portentous atmosphere.  The latter takes that atmosphere and throws it in to the heavens with rumbling and cascading drum fills, escalating riffing, and furious screams of Nietzschean angst.  It feels like every muscle is trying to tear itself from your bones as you try to keep up with the desire to explode like the music you’re listening to.  At this moment the entire last hour of music you have listened to feels like nothing more than precursor to this insane riff epic.  It is not without interesting detail either, but the final feeling is one of pure heavy metal exhaustion where every last bit of passion, energy, and anger has been spent in releasing this built-up pressure.

In The Arms of God is breath-taking.  It hits me on every level as hard now as it did when it was released.  There are no faults to be found, no spare moments, and no wasted ideas.  Everything contributes to the whole and that whole makes each song better in return.  I might not convince every COC fan that this record is their best, but I hope that everyone who reads this takes an hour in a room with a stereo turned all the way up, and sets themselves In The Arms of God.  

52 Albums That Shaped My Life - #23

Shrinebuilder – Self-titled

(Neurot Recordings, 2009)

Buy the album here

Shrinebuilder are the perfect supergroup.  The band contains members of some of the most respected bands in stoner and doom.  Wino of Saint Vitus and The Obsessed, Dale Crover of Melvins, Al Cisneros of Sleep and Om, and Scott Kelly of Neurosis combine to create a record of such unity and breadth it would take any other band an entire career to come close.  While the members share common musical ground, there is a rich diversity of vision, tone, and experience that produces a new experience on each subsequent listen of this record.  In Wino and Kelly the band boasts two of the most distinct voices in contemporary heavy music.  Crover’s legendary drum sound has helped lay a doom blueprint, and Al Cisneros can lay claim to recording stoner rock’s defining albums with Sleep and having the most gloriously fuzzed out bass sound around. Shrinebuilder themselves have only produced one album to date, but perhaps with this near perfect record their work is done.

It is totemic music that inspires images of pagan celebration and worship, draws on natural and celestial symbols, and drives it all home with the full force of false gods.  In “Solar Benediction” and “Pyramid of the Moon” we are taken on a voyage through day and night as if watching the skies from the start of human civilisation.  Shrinebuilder ask us to imagine what these most omnipresent of celestial bodies would have meant to people at the earliest stage of development of our societies; the fear, awe, and war that would have ensued in our attempts to make sense of that which is out of reach.  “Solar Benediction” burns with the power of the sun.  The track channels the rage of a burning desert in to a beautiful contemplation of the birth of civilisation, religion, and war.  No time is wasted with Wino’s distinct wail giving way to the heavy riff and thick growl of Scott Kelly.  Al Cisneros’ beautiful high-pitched, fuzzed-out bass sound and Crover’s full, earthy drum tones keep the track grounded and natural feeling, but the overall sensation is one of endless power.  It finds its counterpoint in “Pyramid of the Moon” with its more Sleep-esque riff and almost spoken vocal bringing the temperature down.  Kelly’s sonorous tone will be familiar to fans of his solo acoustic work, but it finds a more fitting home here with the beautiful doom guitar sounds that he and Wino exchange throughout.  The paganist atmosphere escalates through the mid-section of the song with droned chanting, winding and ethereal solos, and heartbeat-like bass drum sounds that produce the effect of a pounding tribal mass. 

The light and dark of Shrinebuilder are equally compelling, but in “Blind for All to See” we are trapped in the contemplative slow-burn of a half-light dusk, reacting to the vibrations and squeals of experimental guitars but held in captive sway by its alluring bass sound.  Cisneros has the unmatched ability to create soothing, sensual, addictive basslines that once heard you hope will never end.  The unpredictable guitars, restrained drums, and deep vocals just glide over or bounce off this bassline as if it is the monolith towering over awe-inspired worshippers.  “The Architect” is much more immediate with an opening riff which seems to have inspired later era Mastodon.  Wino’s voice and incredible timing are on full display, patiently finding the perfect moment to accentuate the riff with an ascending wail or gentle word, and never attempting to dominate the song.  At under six minutes, “The Architect” is the most direct and deliberately catchy of the songs on Shrinebuilder but still carries the atmosphere of pagan worship that drives this album.  The bass solo at the end carries in to final track “Science of Anger” and its overlapping, squeezed guitar sounds and gentle vocals.  The slow riffing takes centre stage this time with Wino’s beautiful voice through the verses setting up the explosion of Scott Kelly’s huge chorus riff and verse.  Wino’s delivery of the line “Humbly I stand / Awestruck and numb” is an album highlight for me and cements “Science of Anger” as the most memorable track.  Inspired by Sleep’s stoner riffing, infused with Saint Vitus’ more delicate tones, and driven by Neurosis-like intensity this final song has all the elements that make this record so special. 

A darkly gentle exploration of the birth of civilisation and humanity’s attempts to understand where it belongs among it all, this record is testament to the strengths of each musician here.  It opens itself in waves, inviting further enquiries, always with something more to offer, another stone to overturn.  And while it may pay homage to innumerable influences, Shrinebuilder has become a benchmark for modern stoner and doom that may even surpass the best efforts of each member’s full-time band. 

52 Albums That Shaped My Life - #26

Clutch – Blast Tyrant

(DRT Entertainment – Weathermaker Music, 2004)

Buy the album here

These words are a foreign language in my brain…. I didn’t really like Blast Tyrant when it came out.  I found it fluffy, poppy, and lyrically esoteric on the first few listens and decided I was better off without it.  I had stumbled across Clutch when they supported Raging Speedhorn in Glasgow (to our delayed collective confusion) and was overjoyed and blown away on first listening to Pure Rock Fury.  PRF is an album that hits with hardcore intensity, delightful blues-tinged jams, wild vocal dexterity, and that bursting-at-the-seams garage heaviness that I adore.  By the time the more polished, key-infused rock ‘n’ roll of Blast Tyrant came around I was rabid for “Pure Rock Fury II”, and found myself slowly backing away from the new album as if trying not to offend it.  It just wasn’t what I wanted.

Luckily, I was wrong.  It’s exactly what I wanted, what we all wanted.  Blast Tyrant is crowd-pleasing, life-affirming, perfectly conceived and executed rock ‘n’ roll from the best active rock band in the world.  Clutch have continued to sharpen to a fine point their approach on Earth Rocker and Psychic Warfare, but it’s on this album that guitarist Tim Sult, bassist Dan Maines, drummer Jean-Paul Gaster, and vocalist Neil Fallon reached their zenith.  The extended jams of earlier work like Clutch, the heaviness of PRF, and the more tightly packed simplified rock of Earth Rocker all meet in the middle of this band’s phenomenal career to produce a record that genuinely gets better from first track to last. 

“Mercury” rolls in on Sult’s heavy yet rounded and warm riffing, Gaster’s balanced drumming, and Maines’ beautifully light touch on bass before silence descends and Fallon cries out “Daedalus, your child is falling and the Labyrinth is calling”.  The difference between this record and PRF is instantly recognisable – the assured guitar sound is rockier and distances itself from their hardcore roots, the drumming is about feel rather than punching a hole in your eardrums, and Fallon’s vocals are more diverse than ever.  By the time we get to the dancefloor-filling “The Mob Goes Wild” it’s clear that the band are musically channelling Chuck Berry, Elvis Presley, Tom Waits, and AC/DC while drawing on Fallon’s unmistakable talent for telling frontier-type stories touched with sci-fi, fantasy, and mythology.  But there is barely any time to take note as the songs fly by in a flurry of brilliant riffs, genius vocal hooks and choruses, perfectly delivered drum fills, and general rock prowess.  “The Regulator” brings a moment to breathe and reflect.  The beautiful acoustic guitar intro is goosebumps-inducing, while Fallon’s deep and smooth vocal carries the listener off in to the world of The Regulator.  When the song bursts into its rocking chorus it feels as if you are being lifted by the very angel feathers Fallon sings of, and the hairs on your neck will to stand to attention until the guitar slowly fades out and into “Worm Drink”.

Other high points on the album are “Cypress Grove” with its rock single feel refining the intent of earlier album The Elephant Riders, “Army of Bono” where Fallon’s ripping chorus vocal points forward to his unmatched performances on Earth Rocker and Psychic Warfare, and the breakneck speed and superb backing vocals of “Subtle Hustle”.  But the whole album finds its perfect representative in “(Notes from the Trial of) La Curandera” where immediacy, jamming, storytelling, and otherworldly feelings of being carried off somewhere combine to supreme effect.  Sult’s riffs are huge and uplifting while Fallon’s voice is equal parts gravel and soaring melody, giving the impression that the song exists in the clouds somewhere.  And I think this is the key difference between this record and PRF: where the former was very much a gruff, earthy album, Blast Tyrant takes flight from the very beginning and never puts you back down.  It’s a journey that makes you feel weightless, inspired, and almost breathless.

This is all thanks to the skills of each of the band members.  There is at least one song that perfectly displays what each of them does better than any counterpart in any rock band in the world.  The sheer array of insane and catchy guitar sounds Tim Sult produces on “Profits of Doom” sets him apart from his contemporaries, while Dan Maines’ controlled and rumbling performance on “Worm Drink” does more for the song than any other instrument while simultaneously not drawing any attention to itself.  Jean-Paul Gaster also has this skill of being able to serve a song without outwardly showing off.  During “(In the Wake of) The Swollen Goat” Gaster sits just behind the gigantic riffs powering the whole song with insane fills, exquisite feel on the high hat, and perfect timing.  And if you thought that Neil Fallon was all shouty and gruff, just skip to “Ghost” to hear his sonorous tones and melodic range deliver another of his gripping stories.  I used to daydream of perfect all-star rock and metal band line-ups when I was a kid, plucking a frontman from this band and a guitarist from another, but I don’t need to any longer.  Clutch are all I could ever need from a rock band, and they fill my heart with joy. 

      

52 Albums That Shaped My Life - #36

Down - NOLA

(Elektra Records, 1995)

Buy the album here

I turned over the CD case of Down’s debut album in the old Virgin Megastore in Glasgow, and was met with an image that would burn itself in to my brain.  A thorn-crowned Jesus figure with a joint hanging casually from his lips with dark shadows for eyes, nearly drowned in monochrome roughness.  A relatively mainstream metal fan in those days, I found the extreme metal scene to be foreign, out of reach, and filled with noises my ears couldn’t understand.  I was intrigued by what I heard, but I didn’t know why, and ended up backing away from it for years.  While Down aren’t extreme metal, this picture on the back cover of their first album, NOLA, generated the same subconscious response.  This was not my usual fare.  It had an underground feel to it despite the familiar and influential names involved.  While Down was comprised of Pepper Keenan of Corrosion of Conformity, Kirk Windstein and Todd Strange of Crowbar, Jimmy Bower of Eyehategod, and Phil Anselmo of Pantera, something about the independent, DIY image that the artwork, logo, and track listing conveyed had me questioning if it was going to be something I could handle.  Problem was, I was hooked on the band already, I just didn’t know it.  I anxiously walked by the CD several times until my curiosity completely consumed me, and I ended up laying out £15 for it in 2000.  That’s £400 new money.  I had entered a new world.

As “Temptation’s Wings” filled my room with 60s and 70s-inspired, metal-edged hard rock and Phil Anselmo’s growl, I was simultaneously relieved, disappointed, and incredibly excited.  Relieved that this wasn’t some bizarre, experimental side project that I might have to pretend to like; disappointed that it wasn’t exactly that and a bit more; and excited that I had just found a band that represent everything I’ve ever wanted from music.  The riffs are big but aren’t trying to be heavier than they need to be.  The drums are concerned with feel and gentle details as much as getting your head banging.  The leads and harmonised guitar parts are about emotion and storytelling rather than showing off any technical prowess.  The vocals are aggressive but with a crooning quality to them that provides this stoner rock with punch and melody.  This is all wrapped in the swampy production that has become associated with the Nola scene in general, and more specifically with the self-generated lore of band production base, Nodferatu’s Lair, to create a sound that nods to influences but is stirringly unique. 

By the time the final riff of “Temptation’s Wings” blended into the sharper opening of “Lifer”, I was committed.  I remember nearly breaking my neck on first hearing this song.  Bower’s insistent percussion mandates ferocious headbanging, and to this day I consider “Lifer” a pit-starter with soul.  It’s familiar lyrical and thematic territory for Pantera fans, but with this Southern Rock setting the edges soften, the puffed-out chests deflate, and honest emotion starts to seep through.  It’s heavy metal that wants you to snap your neck, but look after your soul and the souls of those around you.

My memories of hearing these first two Down songs are so strong that I often struggle to look beyond them for my favourite tracks, but “Stone The Crow” steps right up and demands its place alongside these tracks.  If anything, it ups the Southern Rock vibe, gently caressing you with its lilting down home guitar, while simultaneously hitting you hard with lyrics that only hint at the strain in Anselmo’s heart regarding his Southern upbringing, identity, and his place in a culture that is inherently racist.  While Anselmo’s racist outbursts have tainted Down’s career, the band’s identity is not entirely caught up in false or blinded notions of the Good Ol’ South.  For some, it’s more about Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, guitar riffs, and a lot of weed.  While crushing odes like “Eyes of the South”, with its incredible jammed-out intro, gigantic bass sound, and unstoppable twin guitars, revel in imagery of the South and love of it what it offers to some of its inhabitants, Down’s true identity is found in “Hail to the Leaf” and Nola’s defining track, “Bury Me In Smoke”.  In the former, the sound of a bong bubbling away undercuts the heavy riff and more aggressive and direct drumming to intertwine with Anselmo’s tortured lyrics and create an atmosphere of clouded judgement and self-hatred.  In the latter, we find Down’s declaration of greatness.  “Bury Me In Smoke” is a huge and confident song fuelled by weed and driven by brilliant guitar riffs.  It brings together all the elements Down displayed in the preceding songs, but knows where this album’s, and this band’s, heart truly lies: In allowing the main riff to fade away then briefly reprising it before the album finishes, Down remind us that at its core, this is music for people who love heavy and honest guitars.  All the drugs, self-hatred, and ideas about the South can step to one side: Hail to the riff.

52 Albums That Shaped My Life - #42

High On Fire – De Vermiis Mysteriis

(EOne, 2012)

Buy the album here

A friend once described listening to High On Fire as being like “interrupting Lemmy and Tony Iommi having an edifying conversation about H.P. Lovecraft's influence on modern metal and horror, only for both of them to punch you square in the face”. Well, actually, I don't have any friends. But if I did I'd sure like it if they said things like this. Especially about High On Fire, the band most adept at proving how stupid I am. I didn't like them when I first heard them. Terms like “samey” and “over-rated” were thrown around by some sort of unimpressed know-it-all. Nobody was listening to me, obviously, but my feelings on High On Fire were clear to me at least. Not. For. Me.

I don't remember the exact moment I realised I was an idiot, but it could have been hearing “Frost Hammer” from Snakes of the Divine, noticing the unrelenting genius of “Death is this Communion” from the album of the same name, or being torn in half by “Anointing of Seer” from Blessed Black Wings. This is how insane I was.... there are endless songs that prove how good this band are, and however my opinion shift occurred, I'm glad I finally got there. Selecting a High On Fire album to appear on this list was inevitable, even if the album I happened to choose would depend on which one had most recently caved my skull in, commandeered my lifeless body, and transported it to a volcano in order to forge me a more metal head in the swirling lava within.

That album today is De Vermis Mysteriis, named after Robert Bloch and H.P. Lovecraft's grimoire, and produced by the undeniably talented Kurt Ballou of Converge. It's like Motorhead for a new generation. A seemingly monolithic metal prophet tearing his throat to deliver madness and magic to your ears over rampant guitars and a rhythm section so powerful it suggests giants are playing the instruments. It is music to smash your enemies. Music to make you lose your mind. Music to summon ferocious demons while you stomp around the pit. High On Fire's sixth album is everything I want from metal: constantly on the verge of pushing it too far, hurtling towards whatever rest might exist at the end of the riff, smashing all hell out of their instruments, and stacked with amazing riffs.

“Serums of Liao” begins with Des Kensel going absolutely mental at his drum kit. Matt Pike's vicious riff and ripping vocals grab you by the ears and drag you, kicking and screaming, in to the story of Liao. In this loose concept album he's Jesus' dead twin brother who became a time traveller or something.... it matters not the story though because this album's main purpose is to throw you off all the walls, turn you upside down so sweat and blood pour in to your eyes and mouth, and to somehow leave you begging for more. “Bloody Knuckles” does all of this. A killer mid-paced riff gives way to the hard chug of the verse with Pike screaming, “Knuckles thrash their way to find a skull that just can't hide”. Head scans in later life will reveal that I couldn't hide from “Bloody Knuckles”: George “Corpsegrinder” Fisher Neck, fractured spine, and brain damage are all risks of listening to this music.

In “Fertile Green” our time travelling hero seems to discover weed and sex. All we discover is a cool drum intro and another Pike riff designed to remove skin from bodies. Body-shaking bass and unhinged soloing take us to a groovy bridge section which gives us time to contemplate the all-out war taking place within these songs. The opening three songs haven't provided a moment for breath, but maybe Liao smoked too much pot because everything goes a little Sleep over the next two tracks. “Madness of an Architect” is a groove-laden, slow-to-rise, but pissed off beast. “Samsara” has the coolest bass line since Kyuss, and winding solos that turn you inside out and back again on the album's only instrumental.

Regular service is restored on “Spiritual Rites” where an incredible cascading verse riff, furious chorus, and superhuman drumming fire up a storm again. Title track “De Vermis Mysteriis” is hard as nails; tight riffing and drumming seem to keep this song from letting loose until Pike's strained yet somehow soaring chorus vocal lifts us. My neck hates “Romulus and Remus” for its mid-paced, thumping drums and huge riffs. It is an irresistible song with a chorus that is equal parts war cry and pleading to the gods, which sets us up for the album's final assault. “Warhorn” is one of the album's highlights. Its skill in usurping the album's previous norm of full-on attack to slowly build anticipation pays off massively with Pike's gravelly yet melodic chorus and a riff that will stay with you for days.

Yet it's “King of Days” that cements this album as my choice for High On Fire's entry on this list. In taking their foot off the pedal, they have provided us with a burning, floating, beguiling, doom epic replete with spine-tingling bluesy riffs, earth-shifting drums and bass, beautiful solos, and mad, mad crooning. It is the epic tribute song to High On Fire I would write, if I could, and if they hadn't already gone and done it themselves.

I know some of you will still be wondering when you will have your High On Fire moment. Don't worry it'll hit you soon.