Wisconsin has given us much in the way of unimaginable horror and violence that rises above your garden variety shooting spree or machete decapitation.
Disgruntled mama's boy Ed Gein turned townies into furniture on his farm in Plainfield. Necro playboy Jeffrey Dahmer was born in West Allis, moving shop to the city Schlitz built to become the Milwaukee Monster. Hell, Wisconsin spawns homicidal terror at such a clip they even wrote a book about it.
But that's just human murder and mayhem. The crass stuff of mortals. A deeper darkness born amid cold, alien chaos also lurks under the facade of quaint dairies and rolling fields, as Wisconsin is also ground zero of Arkham House, located in the unlikely village of Sauk City. Founded by August Dertleth, the enterprising, bull necked confidante of one Howard Phillips Lovecraft, Arkham House played a leading role in rescuing the mind splitting cosmic horror of Lovecraft's writings from the dust bin of the Pulp Age.
Approximately 85.9 miles from Sauk City and Arkham House HQ, up trusty US 151, is the picturesque hamlet of Fond du Lac, nestled on the sleepy shores of Lake Winnebago. This is a true bedroom community, in every sense. They even have a cute little lighthouse. But, as with much in this state, the cheery outer glow is all a facade, as Fond du Lac is contributing its own legacy to Wisconsin-born horror and inescapable darkness, as Fond du Lac is the home of Goatfisted, a Black Metal band bending knee and Ernie Ball strings to the writings and Mythos of H.P. Lovecraft.
Goatfisted's self-titled, debut album is a growling, crunching, 8-song dirge to the hopes of humanity in a universe proven to be cold and malevolent. This is D-tuned choir music for a mass blacker than anything birthed within the time of man. This is the metal soundtrack to the very last All Hallows' Eve. This is horror metal with a distinguished edge befitting the alienated gentleman of Providence who inspired it.
From band member monikers - Shogtha (vocals), Jhatanth (chief guitarist/bassist), Ren-Sothoth (drums, extra vocals), and Geth-Omog (guitar) - to lyrics inspired by the stories, themes, and characters of HPL, Goatfisted are true dyed-in-the-woolen-robe Lovecraftians, fusing dark cosmicism and indescribable horrors with thick, thudding guitars, hammer double bass drums, occasional (just enough) keyboards, and dynamic vocals into a fantastic brew of mausoleum metal. It's heavy, but balanced, technical without getting all Musicians Institute arpeggio wonky. And the lyrics are quite interesting and well crafted, demanding a line by line follow-along while the album plays.
The cover materials and art are top shelf, and engineer John Jones' deft production is surprisingly slick, but not overly so... In short, this album - this musical foursome in general - are record-store ready. As a music journalist three lives ago, I spent a decade listening to all manner of local band releases, from EPs to full length, full studio affairs purchased with mommy's credit cards. While I have no idea how long ago Goatfisted belched into being, the band already sounds like a million fucking bucks. Maybe their mommy's have credit cards, too. Or maybe they're just a talented, polished band, inspired by the Unnameable to record the hugely Listenable.
I enjoyed all 8 of the pieces, but some that stood out were "Black Stone Harvest," featuring nice, ribeye fat riffs, joined at the hip with just an echo of creepy organ music; "The Calling," which has some chugging guitar that moved the lower end of my spine back into alignment; and "His Return and Ascension," the song destined to be played by the Deep One house band at Cthulhu's eventual (re)birthday party.
"Dominion" is the last song on the album, and Goatfisted's coup d' grace. It shows a maturity and bare chested brass from the opening lines, as Shogtha spits out the measured promise, "The reclamation of soil and sea. As priest of Ancients, thou shall harken to me." As gritty as it is cosmic, like an artistic punch into the solar plexus. Goatfisted wants to open your eyes to new vistas, while pouring thunder into your ears to clue you in on what's coming, what has always been...
While listening to the album last night, my wife - whose musical taste ranges from Wu Tang to Slayer - walked into the office, raised her eyebrows and declared, "That fucking rocks." I just smiled, and thought to myself that if you're a Black Metal band, and a beautiful woman digs your sound, nothing this side of the Outer God Apocalypse can stop you.
Goatfisted, for the win.
Showing posts with label Arkham House. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Arkham House. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Friday, November 5, 2010
Day Tripping to Yoh-Vombis
"If the doctors are correct in their prognostication, I have only a few Martian hours of life remaining to me. In those hours I shall endeavor to relate, as a warning to others who might follow in our footsteps, the singular and frightful happenings that terminated our researches among the ruins of Yoh-Vombis. Somehow, even in my extremity, I shall contrive to tell the story; since there is no one else to do it. But the telling will be toilsome and broken; and after I am done, the madness will recur, and several men will restrain me, lest I should leave the hospital and return across many desert leagues to those abominable vaults beneath the compulsion of the malignant and malevolent virus which is permeating my brain. Perhaps death will release me from that abhorrent control, which would urge me down to bottomless underworld warrens of terror for which the saner planets of the solar system can have no analogue. I say perhaps . . . for, remembering what I have seen, I am not sure that even death will end my bondage . . . ."
When I recently read this article, about NASA's plans to launch one-way missions to Mars, I immediately though of one of my favorite masters of the pen, clay and ink, Clark Ashton Smith, and his fascination with the possibly menacing nature of Mars, most famously explored in his The Vaults of Yoh-Vombis, which has come to be his second-most famous story (after the dark fantasy masterpiece The City of Singing Flame, which, in my humble opinion, rivals anything written by Smith's contemporaries, including HPL).
Smith - hereafter referred to as "CAS," as he's known to all annoying fanboys like me - completed the original version of "Yoh-Vombis" on the 12th of September, 1931, and after several frustrating re-writes at the behest of Weird Tales editor Farnsworth Wright, the magazine finally accepted a pared-down version of the story in late October.
"The Vaults of Yoh-Vombis" was later published by Arkham House as the 19th tale in the CAS anthology Out of Space and Time, first released in 1942 with a print run of just over 1,000 copies.
Later editions were also published by Arkham House.


In "The Vaults of Yoh-Vombis," CAS describes an ancient cosmic horror that dwells under the ruined Martian city of Yoh-Vombis, discovered by a group of intrepid archeologists, after being abandoned by their two hesitant Martian guides. I don't want to give away the plot points, but let's just say they don't discover grumpy little creatures with broom-topped green helmets and oversize sneakers.
With NASA's push to Mars, we might uncover something a bit more... "substantial" and less Warner Bros. in the dusty dark of the Red Planet that doesn't necessarily cotton to the sudden presence of biped humanity - or worse yet, decides to do something about it.
Sending squishy human beings to Mars without a return ticket could leave us at the mercy of things unimaginably strange, and potentially quite nasty. Or, we could just find ancient, dried out waterways and lifeless rock. We don't really now. Yet, we MUST know. Isn't that what drives us? Isn't that why Eve plucked the apple (and then quickly invented biodegradable pasties)? The constant quest to uncover the Unknown, and possibly even the Unknowable? In the last fifty years, we've just taken the first, shaky baby step into physically exploring the cosmos. What if don't like what we find? Worse yet, what if we jostle something that was best left undisturbed?
It's the height of human hubris to believe that we could the only possible sentient life in this vast, immeasurable and constantly expanding universe (without taking into account dimensions and spheres beyond our reckoning, understanding, and ability to locate).
That brash arrogance will be tested very soon...
HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND! WE ALL MIGHT DIE SOON!
Oh, and read some Clark Ashton Smith very soon. He's old school tough, a rough hewn American badass and naturalist gentleman of the weird and wonderful.
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| One of the Godfathers of the Cosmic - Clark Ashton Smith |
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