Iran Should Get the Bomb?

Here’s an argument about Iran’s nuclear enrichment program that you might not have heard yet:  “Most U.S., European, and Israeli commentators and policymakers warn that a nuclear-armed Iran would be the worst possible outcome of the current standoff.  In fact, it would probably be the best possible result: the one most likely to restore stability to the Middle East.”  It’s presented in an article by the international relations theorist Kenneth Waltz in the July/August issue of “Foreign Affairs,” and his general purpose is to respond to the alarmist rhetoric surrounding Iran’s nuclear program and encourage more rational thinking about the issue.  It’s nice to read an article that examines the issue from a different perspective, but in responding to the radical voices calling for military strikes on Iran, Waltz stakes out an equally radical position on the opposite side of the debate and thus ends up sounding just as reckless and irrational as the commentators and policymakers whose minds he’d like to change.     

Waltz supports his argument mostly by providing examples of nuclear-armed rival states that have provided stability by balancing each other, focusing heavily on how the phenomenon of mutually assured destruction (MAD) prevented the Cold War from turning hot.  He presents the plausible assertions that even if Iran acquired nuclear weapons it is very unlikely that it would use them to attack Israel or pass them on to terrorist groups, the two mostly commonly cited reasons why Iran cannot be allowed to get the bomb, even if military action is necessary to stop it.  Either action would be self-destructive and would virtually assure that a U.S.-backed coalition would remove Iran’s current regime by military force.  Despite their incendiary rhetoric, Iran’s leaders are aware of this fact.

However, this doesn’t mean that the “best possible outcome” is for Iran to get the bomb, and Waltz makes some pretty outrageous claims to back up this assertion, the worst of which is that the world might be better off with more nuclear weapons, or in his words:  “When it comes to nuclear weapons, now as ever, more may be better.”  Common sense would seem to suggest otherwise.  Does the fact that MAD helped prevent the U.S. and the Soviet Union from engaging in a nuclear war really mean that the world would be better off with more nuclear weapons?  Humanity survived the Cold War, but this result wasn’t inevitable.  A nuclear-armed Israel balanced by a nuclear-armed Iran might add stability to the Middle East, but it could also make a volatile region even more dangerous.  This is not a gamble that any sensible policy maker should be willing to make.   

Waltz also argues that if Iran goes nuclear, the relationship between India and Pakistan offers a model for Iran and Israel to follow: “In 1991, the historical rivals India and Pakistan signed a treaty agreeing not to target each other’s nuclear facilities.  They realized that far more worrisome than their adversary’s nuclear deterrent was the instability produced by challenges to it.  Since then, even in the face of high tensions and risky provocations, the two countries have kept the peace.  Israel and Iran would do well to consider this precedent.”  You don’t have to be an expert in international relations to wonder how someone could present the relationship between India and Pakistan as an example to follow.  These two countries have “kept the peace” in the very narrow sense that they haven’t gone to war since signing the treaty, but Pakistani-backed militants continue to attack India.  Some commentators plausibly argue that Pakistan continues to back these militants because India’s options for responding are limited by the fact that Pakistan has nuclear weapons.  This is hardly a precedent one should advocate following.     

Reading Waltz’s article creates the impression that he’s proposing a strategy for the board game Risk rather than writing about the real world.  Stepping back and allowing Iran to acquire nuclear weapons might be a fun strategy to play in a war game, but implementing it in the real world could be just as dangerous as taking the opposite approach and bombing Iran’s nuclear sites.  Why would Waltz present such an argument?  If he weren’t already a respected authority in the field of international relations, I would think he did it simply to get published.  But this doesn’t seem to be the case.
 
A better answer is that the realist theory of international relations predicts that a nuclear-armed Iran would add stability to the Middle East.  The simplified version of this theory is that it assumes that states are in a constant struggle for power, and wars happen when states attempt to acquire more power.  However, powerful states balance each other.  One powerful state won’t attack another powerful because it’s a rational actor, and it knows that doing so is not in its interest.  Rivalries between powerful states are thus stabilizing factors.  In Waltz’s application of this theory to the Middle East, there is a power imbalance because Israel is the only nuclear-armed state, and this results in instability.  Balance would be restored if Iran acquired nuclear weapons.  It’s a nice, tidy theory, but I suspect that it’s too neat to provide an accurate prediction of messy, real-world politics. 

Metal Album of the Week: Asphyx - Deathhammer

If I had to pick a favorite subgenre of metal, I would have to say death metal, even though most of it is unbearable.  But I like my metal evil, and next to black metal, it’s the evilest, and even bad death metal is better than most good black metal, which sounds like a bunch of noise mixed with the ramblings of a humanoid reptile.  Death metal’s deep, growling vocals; thick, downtuned guitars; and fast drumming that relies heavily on double bass work together to create more fitting soundtracks for the Chief Rebel Angel.

The death metal that I usually find most appealing is melodic death metal—bands like Amon Amarth and Entombed are two good examples—but I’m always on the lookout for any death metal that doesn’t follow the blast-beat, Cookie monster formula popularized by bands like Cannibal Corpse and Morbid Angel.  “Deathhammer,” the latest album from the Dutch band Asphyx, is a notable example of a recent death metal album that offers metalheads something different.  At the beginning of the title song, vocalist Martin van Drunen announces, “This is true death metal, you bastards!” and it’s hard to argue with him, but what makes this album so enjoyable for me is the way it mixes the deep growling vocals and thick guitars of death metal with the slower tempos, heavy riffs and touch of melody more characteristic of doom metal.  Asphyx’s style of metal is thus often referred to as death/doom.

The album’s mix of death and doom results in a sound that provides an appropriately dark and brutal atmosphere for the lyrics that focus mostly on the horrors of war.  This is pretty standard for the subgenre, but what makes Asphyx unique is the powerful vocals that are somewhere between throaty screaming and raspy growling and remain surprisingly intelligible.  “Deathhammer” has a nice variety of mid-to-fast tempo songs and slower, doom-laden tracks, and thus avoids the common problem in metal of sounding like one long, droning song.

One of the album’s best songs, “We Doom You to Death,” displays a bit of wittiness in the word play of its lyrics and also shows that Asphyx don’t take themselves too seriously.  The song is a perfect hybrid of death metal and doom metal, and although the title might suggest that it’s about sentencing someone to death, it’s actually punning on “doom” and “death” to make a statement about the kind of metal Asphyx plays.  I usually detest metal songs that are about metal, but this one works because of the clever way the lyrics and music work together.  It also provides a nice break from the rest of the album’s gloom.

The brutal sound of “Deathhammer” makes it great music for cleaning the bathroom, washing dishes, or doing any kind of cleaning that involves scrubbing.  In fact, it wasn’t until I listened to the album while cleaning the bathroom that I truly appreciated it.  To get rid of mildew, try the third track, “Minefield.”  After 7 minutes of this slow, grinding tale of soldiers trapped in a mindfield, the grout in your shower will be white again.

Next:  Death -  The Sound of Perseverance 

Is Romney also the Antichrist?

Several months ago, I observed a discussion of politics during which a member of my extended family said that President Obama is a sign of the antichrist.  This, of course, wasn’t the first time I’d heard such nonsense, but it was the first time I’d heard it from a member of my family, and it was the first time I thought seriously about why people believe this bullshit.  Rather than ask my family member and thus make an already uncomfortable moment even worse, I decided to find out for myself by conducting an Internet search.   

Websites offering proof that Obama is the antichrist provide so many different reasons that it’s difficult to categorize them, but some common themes do emerge.  One is gay bashing.  The President’s support for gay rights is presented as proof either that he worships the devil, that his election is a sign that the antichrist is coming or that he’s the antichrist himself.  Others are his “forked tongue” and his ability to attract large numbers of followers with his false promises.  He is also accused of rejecting the tenets of Jesus, of drawing from several different religions to form his own belief system, and of couching his lies in the language of Christianity to trick the biblically ignorant masses, a favorite tool of Satan’s.  One video even claims that the Bible names Obama as the antichrist.

Most of this would apply to almost any politician, particularly Mitt Romney, and I’m sure that only a small minority of Americans actually believe that the President is the antichrist, but it does make me wonder if similar nonsense about Romney will proliferate if he’s elected President.  He clearly hasn’t committed the evil deed of supporting gay rights, but his Mormonism and his constantly shifting positions—two of the candidate’s most salient features in the minds of many Americans—mark him as a possible harbinger of the end times, so I suspect that it will.  One website is already offering proof that Romney is the antichrist.

However, it’s also likely that those who believe this will constitute an even smaller minority than those preparing for the Rapture under President Obama.  Both candidates clearly make significant numbers of Americans uncomfortable, but this is truer of Obama, and for people who dislike the President’s policies and can’t countenance the fact that their president has dark skin and an exotic sounding name it’s much easier to claim that he’s the antichrist than it is to evaluate his policies critically and acknowledge that although they might disagree with him, President Obama is a patriotic American who is doing what he believes is best for the country.  Unease about Romney’s Mormonism is assuaged by the knowledge that at least he’s neither black nor Muslim, but this won’t stop everyone from claiming that his bizarre undergarments are signs of his fealty to the Beast.

The Dead: A Realistic Take on the Walking Dead

As much as I love zombie movies, especially George Romero’s dead trilogy, and Lucio Fulci’s Zombie, The Beyond, and House by the Cemetery, I haven’t really been excited about the recent popularity of the walking dead. Now that zombies are everywhere, they’re not as interesting. While I’m glad that Netflix has given me easy access to hundreds of obscure horror movies, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the days of scouting out video stores and flea markets hoping to discover an old VHS tape with lurid images of the living dead on its cover. I still have vivid memories of the day I found the Spanish zombie film Bloodsucking Nazi Zombies (aka Oasis of the Zombies, aka The Treasure of the Living Dead) at the Barnyard Flea Market a short bike ride away from my parents’ house. It didn’t matter that the movie was almost unwatchable; the thrill was in the discovery, in knowing I’d unearthed an obscure zombie movie to which other horror fans didn’t have access. Now it’s too easy, and when the movie is bad, as most of them are, I can’t even console myself with the thought that I’m one of only a select few who have seen it.     

Another reason I’ve lost interest is that now too many zombies run. Real zombies don’t run, and they aren’t the result of rage viruses (although they can be created in labs by mad scientists). They are reanimated corpses that stumble around mindlessly and eat the flesh (and brains) of the living. When controlled by a competent director, they can swim and wrestle sharks (Fulci’s Zombie), and they can begin to think rationally (Romero’s Day of the Dead and Land of the Dead), but they can never run. They must also do at least some of the following: bite a large gory chunk out of a living human’s arm, leg, or neck; grunt; have rotting flesh; stumble; run into things; rise from the dead and bite one of their friends thus turning him or her into a zombie as well; and feast on the organs of a living human. If none of this applies or if the being exhibiting these traits runs, it’s not a zombie.

Recently, however, I watched The Dead, a 2010 film by British writers/directors Howard and Jonathan Ford, and it has rekindled my interest in the walking dead subgenre. The Dead ranks among the best zombie movies ever made, and it demonstrates that the Ford brothers understand zombies better than anyone who has made a movie about the living dead in the past several years. Set in an unnamed West African country and filmed on location in Ghana and Burkino Faso, The Dead focuses on two main characters, Lieutenant Brian Murphy, an aviation engineer in the U.S. Army, and Sergeant Daniel Dembele, a soldier from an unnamed African country, and their struggle to survive as they attempt to make their way through savannah and desert to a military base where Brian hopes to find a way home and Daniel hopes to find his son. The Ford brothers portray this struggle with a grim realism that makes the film seem less like a movie about the undead and more like the brutal horror films of the 1970’s, such as The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, The Hills Have Eyes, and Last House on the Left, which are so terrifying because they seem so real.

The Dead doesn’t waste any time with comic relief, a love story, or attempts to explain why the dead have started to walk and feast on the living. This is simply the way things are, and the characters must deal with it. They don’t spend much time talking about it either as the dialogue is sparse, and the Ford brothers rely almost entirely on visuals to tell their story. What makes The Dead so believable is that it focuses on the character’s struggle for survival, portraying not only their passage through the harsh landscape in an old pick-up truck that seems always on the verge running out of gas, overheating or blowing a tire, but also their difficulty in meeting basic needs such as eating, drinking, and sleeping. Moreover, it presents the zombies as another aspect of the harsh landscape, as a force of a nature rather than as something supernatural that can appear only in a movie.

All the classic elements are here. The zombies groan and stumble around on broken limbs covered with rotting flesh. One even crawls. When they catch their victims, they bite large gory chunks out of them and feast on their flesh. Early in the film, Daniel watches as a woman from his village dies and then attempts to bite him before he shoots her in the head, leaving viewers to wonder whether he might have to do the same to Brian (or vice versa) before they reach the military base.

The Dead also contains some welcome changes to the walking dead formula. Unlike every other character in a zombie movie, Daniel and Brian seem to know instinctively that the only way to stop a zombie is to destroy its brain. Another nice difference is that rather than becoming a greater threat to their own survival than the zombies, the living humans in the movie work together. If you’re concerned, like I was, that Daniel and Brian will make it to the army base only to learn that they were better off with the zombies, you’ll be glad to know that this doesn’t happen. The biggest difference, of course, is the setting. Most zombie films take place in cities where the characters are left to deal with the collapse of civilization. By setting their film in a place where daily life was already a struggle, the Ford brothers offer a completely different take on the zombie film. The horror is more intense for Brian, who, in addition to running from zombies, must navigate a harsh environment and an unfamiliar culture. Daniel, on the other hand, is more equipped to survive, and without him, Brian wouldn’t make it very far. The setting thus enables the Ford brothers to emphasize the story's survival aspects. If there's a political message here, it's a subtle one; the film avoids distracting from the horror by preaching to its audience.

While innovating in ways that leave their movie firmly rooted in the walking dead subgenre, the Ford brothers have shown how to keep the zombie film interesting. The Dead doesn’t try to shock with excessive amounts of a gore, trick the audience with bizarre plot twists, or make its zombies do something they can’t. It succeeds by creating horror so intense that you forget you’re watching a movie about the undead and believe that the events unfolding could really happen.

The Cabinet Enters Walhalla

In Norse mythology, Vikings who die in combat cross the Rainbow Bridge into Valhalla, where they join their god Odin and help him prepare for Ragnarok, a final battle that will determine the fate of the world.  Valhalla is often depicted as a white marble palace surround by lush greenery, and it appears in dozens of paintings, songs, video games and various other media.  I know it best from the song “Across the Rainbow Bridge,” in which the Swedish death metal band Amon Amarth imagine a Viking preparing for death as he rides into battle for the last time.

 

This song was playing in my head earlier this week as I entered Walhalla, South Carolina, a town in the upstate founded in 1850 by German immigrants who were clearly inspired by the Norse myths.  Local histories translate “Walhalla” as “Paradise of the Gods” and claim that the founders used the name to signify that they had found a happy home.  But it wasn’t Vikings that brought me to Walhalla, and I didn’t even realize the Norse connection until I saw a sign welcoming me to the town.  I was looking for waterfalls, but what I found was that although no one in Walhalla was preparing for the Final Battle, the town does have a few of its own myths and stories that give modern day visitors some insight into the experiences of the town’s earlier inhabitants.

Cash, my German shepherd, accompanied me on the quest, and the temperature was well over 90°, so we limited ourselves to Issaqueena Falls, the one waterfall that didn’t require a long hike.   The falls are formed by a stream that splits into several falls as it cascades down a tree-lined cliff.  Stories about the falls agree that they were named after a young woman named Issaqueena, but they differ in the details.  The marker posted at the top of the falls claims that Issaqueena was a “Creek maiden” who was kidnapped by the Cherokee.  She later fell in love with Allan Francis, a white trader, and after overhearing the Cherokee’s plans to attack a white settlement, she fled to warn Francis.  She stayed with him and became his wife, but the Cherokee came looking for her, and to escape, she pretended to leap to her death from the falls and hid under a ledge until it was safe to return to Francis.

South Carolina’s tourism website tells basically the same story, but in its version, Issaqueena was “an Indian  maiden” who warned a local fort about an impending attack and then hid near the falls when the Indians came looking for her.  There’s no love story in this version of the myth; Issaqueena is simply a noble woman doing a good deed.  Wikipedia’s version, which doesn’t cite a source, also claims that Issaqueena was a Cherokee, but instead of warning white settlers about an attack, she fell in love with an Oconee brave, whose tribe was at war with the Cherokee.  To protect him from the rest of her tribe, Issaqueena hid her lover under the falls.

Taken together, the three versions are a reminder that despite its name, the early days of Walhalla were not edenic, especially for its original inhabitants.  They seem also to reflect attempts at presenting local history in the best possible light, particularly the first two, which portray Issaqueena as a noble Cherokee doing a good deed by betraying her people in order to help save the virtuous settlers from a violent attack.  Like many myths, the version that appears on the historical marker is just plain weird.  What the hell is a “Creek maiden,” who were the “Creek people,” and how did they fit into the conflict between the Cherokee and the white settlers?  It raises more questions than it answers.  But, unlike the second version, at least it gives Issaqueena a love interest and thus a clear motive in warning the settlers of the impending attack.  The third, however, is by far the most interesting and has the most epic potential because it features two characters with conflicted loyalties.  If I were in a death metal band that hailed from Walhalla, we would have a song that followed this version.  It would be presented from the Oconee brave’s perspective as he’s waiting for his lover to return, fearing that she might be killed for hiding him, reflecting on his decision to become her lover, anticipating meeting her brothers in battle and wondering about his future with Issaqueena. 

More epic material lies in the local stories about Stumphouse Tunnel, a failed attempt to connect Charleston, SC with Knoxville via railroad and a sign that even the town’s earliest inhabitants must have shared my sense that I was in the middle of fucking nowhere when I entered Walhalla.  The problem was that Stumphouse Mountain stood in the way, so the state of South Carolina hired Irish immigrants to carve a tunnel through it.  They completed 4,300 of the tunnel's 5,800 feet before the project ran out of money and was abandoned completely as a result of the Civil War.  The partially finished tunnel is open to tourists and stands as a monument both to the obstacles early Americans faced in building their country and of the pioneering spirit with which they attacked them.

The tunnel called to mind Western films about the completion of the transcontinental railroad, particularly John Ford’s silent The Iron Horse and Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a Time in the West, both of which highlight what some would gain and what others would lose from the coming of the railroad and the ruthlessness with which the railroad barons pursued their goals.  It’s also a reminder that although these films focus on the American West, similar struggles played out in the Southeast.  

While my trip to Walhalla involved crossing Blue Ridge Boulevard rather than the Rainbow Bridge and there was no sign of Odin, Thor, or Viking warriors, it did remind me that my home state has its own myths and history that deserve a closer look than I’ve given them in the past.

The Cabinet's Metal Album of the Week: Kreator - Phantom Antichrist

I know this probably places me within a very small minority of metalheads, but I don’t like thrash metal.  I don’t like Testament or Anthrax; I like a few Megadeth songs, but I don’t particularly like the band; and while I can appreciate Metallica for being an important influence on dozens of metal bands and for helping metal receive more mainstream attention, I’ve never really liked them either.  (Claims that Metallica are the best heavy metal band of all time are ridiculous as it’s an objective fact that this honor belongs to Iron Maiden.)  One very notable exception is Slayer, whose Seasons in the Abyss is one of the reasons I’m a metalhead today. 

I don’t really know why I dislike thrash except that most of it just sounds angry, and I like my metal to be evil (the more references to Satan the better) or to have a horror/science fiction/fantasy theme.  This would explain why Slayer is the one thrash band I do like.  However, it might simply be that I haven’t explored enough beyond the biggest thrash bands to find ones I like.  After all, if my exposure to death metal was confined to Cannibal Corpse, one of its biggest bands, I wouldn’t like this subgenre either.

Whatever the case, Phantom Antichrist, the new album from German thrash metal band Kreator, has given me a good reason to give thrash a closer listen.  It’s another rare instance of the music on a metal album being as good as its cover, which pictures the antichrist as a puppeteer controlling the four horsemen of the apocalypse.  The album displays the speed, aggression, and squealing guitar solos you would expect from a thrash metal album, but it also features the kinds of melodic choruses more at home on power metal albums, making it hard to resist throwing up the metal horns and singing, “Phantom. Antichrist!” and “Death to the world!”  These melodies help it stand out from other thrash albums I’ve heard, as do the unique and powerful vocals, which, to my ears at least, sound like a demon singing, as opposed to the generic vocals I typically associate with thrash that just sound like some guy trying to sing fast enough to keep up with the music. 

  

As its title suggests, the songs on Phantom Antichrist are about the collapse of civilization and the destruction of the world.  Non-metalheads often wonder why anyone would want to listen to songs about death and destruction, and the answer, of course, is the same reason one would want to watch science fiction, fantasy and horror movies: pure escapism.  Most of the time, I don’t want to hear realistic lyrics that might have an emotional impact.  Obviously, I don’t want “berserkers [to] start a blood-chain of attacks/Against religion and all nations’ flags,” just as I don’t want a cross-dressing madman in a dead skin mask to massacre people with a chainsaw.  But in a perverse way, silly lyrics about destroying the world offer a temporary escape from life’s harsh realities.  Hearing a blues song about some guy who lost his job would only remind me of how much of a dumbass I was for leaving a good job I enjoyed to pursue a career I thought I would enjoy more.  I’m too busy headbanging to think about this fact when I hear a demon singing about the coming of the antichrist while his band mates wail on their guitars. 

Let’s be honest here; after dealing with the frustrations of a typical week, who hasn’t wanted to sing along with a song whose chorus says, “Death to the world!”?

Next week:  Asphyx – Deathhammer

The Cabinet’s Metal Album of the Week: Candlemass – Psalms for the Dead

I’m terrible at describing music, and I’m particularly bad at explaining why an album is “good” or  “bad,” but I’m going to try anyway in what will be one of the revived Cabinet’s weekly columns.  I’ll start with the latest album, and purportedly the last, from the Swedish doom metal band Candlemass, Psalms for the Dead.

Before buying this album, I knew nothing about Candlemass and very little about doom metal, but I was already interested because, as any true metalhead knows, with a handful of very notable exceptions, all the metal that matters comes from Sweden.  If I were still in high school and just discovering metal, the name of the band and the album cover alone would have been enough to peak my interest, but ten minutes sampling metal on iTunes is more than enough time to learn a lesson that those of us who grew to musical maturity in the pre-MP3 age learned the hard way:  there’s often an inverse relationship between the coolness of a metal band’s name and album covers and the quality of its music.  After reading very positive reviews of Psalms for the Dead in Metal Hammer  and Decibel magazines and then sampling the album several times, I was glad to learn that this rule doesn’t apply to Candlemass.

Listening to Psalms a few dozen times has confirmed my earlier impression of doom metal:  it sounds like doom.  I know this description isn’t very useful, but if you’re familiar with the subgenre, I think you’ll agree that it’s apt.  However, a much more useful way of describing doom metal is simply to point out that in addition to inventing metal Black Sabbath also invented doom metal or that the brand of metal Sabbath invented was doom.  Chances are if you’re reading this, you’ve heard Sabbath, so you know what doom metal sounds like.  In case you haven’t, the best I can do (other than telling you to check out Black Sabbath and Paranoid immediately) is to explain that it relies on slow, heavy guitar riffs and that the vocals are more melodic and less grunty, screechy, or screamy than you probably expect from heavy metal.

Psalms consists of nine songs that the band’s website describes as being about “the presence and absence of time. . . about leaving, goodbyes and farewells . . . inner demons and false.”  Not surprisingly, the music portraying these dark themes is suitably doom-laden, with slow, heavy guitar riffs, deep, bellowing drums, and the occasional keyboard accompaniment adding a touch of eeriness throughout the album.  The songs gain variety from melodic choruses that periodically punctuate the doom.  I seem to remember reading the vocals described as a bit “Dio-ish,” and this is a good way to characterize the vocals, which are sung, rather than growled or screamed, at a pitch that’s somewhere between James Hetfield’s and King Diamond’s.

There’s not a bad song on the album, and two that stand out are “The Sound of Dying Demons” and “Waterwitch,” both of which sound scary enough to make me think twice before playing them while I’m alone in the dark.  “Dying Demons” is about an inability to escape inner demons, and its layered sounds invoke impressions of being surrounded by demons.  It opens with a ritualistic drumbeat that leads into a slow, droning guitar riff that’s soon accompanied by thunder and faint sounds of howling demons.  Melodic vocals singing of hopes that demons are gone and noting that “you thought the voices were dead” are followed by a demonic whisper claiming, “You didn’t listen!”  “Waterwitch” personifies time or death as a witch that’s stealing our lives.  Thick, doomy basslines underlie the vocals as they describe the witch whose victims can’t be saved by angels’ tears.  Slow, grooving riffs with a slight waa effect add to the sense of dread.

Part of the reason I like this album so much is that it adds variety to my metal collection.  It’s heavy and very dark while also being melodic and thus enables me to give my ears a periodic break from the brutality of bands like Skeletonwitch and Goatwhore.  It’s also nice to have choruses that I can sing along to while running.

Psalms is my only exposure to Candlemass, so I can’t compare it to their other albums, but I’ll definitely be checking them out in the near future.  The band have claimed that although they will continue playing live shows, this will be their last album.  If it does end up being their last, they will have ended with a shot of doom that’s likely to give metalheads nightmares for years.

Next week:  Kreator – Phantom Antichrist.