Download Festival 2013 Day Two Review: Iron Maiden Take Better Care of their Fans Than Any Other Band

Another year, another summer and another chapter closes at metal's most revered festival. The Mecca of heavy music played host to another 150 bands - some new, some old and all united under the banner of downtuned guitars and multiple bass drums.

Saturday began somewhere in 1980, and stayed there for the majority of the day. UFO kicked off proceedings at the ungodly hour of 11am, and played a retro set full of classics, featuring the excellent "Doctor Doctor" and the cockney musings of lead singer Phil Mogg. (4/5)

Young Guns followed, but seemed dwarfed by the stage, the band's pseudo-rock songs not translating well on-stage, nor to the crowd. They sounded under-mixed, under-manned and under-prepared. Aside from hit "Bones", Young Guns were out of their depth. (2/5)

Despite their change of name, Black Star Riders are still essentially Thin Lizzy with a guilt trip, and despite playing a couple of tunes from their new album, there was an air of inevitability when "Whisky In The Jar" and "The Boys Are Back In Town" finished the set. Still, all good fun. (3/5)

Among all the wailing guitar solos, I fond time to head to the Red Bull tent to catch Astroid Boys on the recommendation of a friend. Despite my original caution at the metal-dubstep hybrid that I had been warned about, the Welsh rappers were super; mixing energy and street cred with metalcore breakdowns. A musical epiphany that was thoroughly fun, Highly recommended. (4/5).

Alice In Chains followed, opening with "Them Bones" and despite Jerry Cantrell's newly short hair, AIC were no less brutal, whizzing through a typically downtuned and dirty set culminating in the fantastic "Man In A Box". There may have been a tribute to Layne Staley on Sean Kinney's kick drum, but thanks William DuVall donning the microphone, his memory hasn't been tarnished. (4/5).

Next up were Motorhead, who were exactly what you expected from Motorhead. Classics like "Damage Case", "The Chase Is Better Than The Catch" and "The One To Sing The Blues" all got aired before the usual Ace Of Spades/Overkill duopoly ended proceedings in typical style. To paraphrase from Lemmy himself, they were Motorhead, and they played Rock N' Roll. (4/5).

Queens Of The Stone Age were the last band to hit the main stage before Iron Maiden entered, and treated Donnington with a no-frills set, opening with stacatto rocker "Feel Good Hit Of The Summer" and turning Download into a party atmosphere with "No One Knows" 5th song in. "Go With The Flow" and "A Song For The Dead" completed a show that went a long way to explaining why QOTSA are so popular. New drummer Jon Theodore filled the giant shoes of Dave Grohl with ease, slotting in subtly alongside Josh Homme's abrasive guitar play. (4/5).

Iron Maiden entered what is widely regarded as their stage, and their opening gambit suggested no different - hiring a Battle Of Britain Spitfire to fly over the onlooking masses to opener "Moonchild". Maiden played a tweaked version of the Maiden England set, with numerous cuts from the Seventh Son of A Seventh Son record, reminding everyone that Maiden knows how to treat it's fans - playing rarities like "Phantom Of The Opera" and "The Prisoner".

That said, as far as a festival set-list went, it would probably have been more advantageous for Maiden if they had stuck to a less fan-specific set-list, especially in the face of so many younger fans. I personally am a huge Iron Maiden fan, and despite appreciating the progressive-musings, I was a bit disappointed that the novelty meant that "Hallowed Be Thy Name" wasn't part of the set-list.

That said, Iron Maiden are Iron Maiden, and small qualms aside they were typically excellent - Bruce Dickinson in a jovial mood as the band reeled off song after song to a (largely) appreciative crowd. They promised a return to England at the end of summer, revealing a date for an O2 show in August. Based on this evidence, they'll be worth a watch. (4/5).

Download Festival 2013 Day One Review: Slipknot Are the New Kings of Metal, Like It Or Not

Another year, another summer and another chapter closes at metal's most revered festival. The Mecca of heavy music played host to another 150 bands - some new, some old and all united under the banner of downtuned guitars and multiple bass drums.

Friday began with Rise To Remain, who despite their enthusiasm and competence will forever be known as "Bruce Dickinson's son's band". The British metallers delivered an appropriately energetic and enjoyable set that appropriately set the trend for a day that was full of screaming guitars and vocalists alike. (4/5)

Asking Alexandria, led by newly sober and stubbly Danny Worsnop brought their Yorkshire metalcore to the main stage later in the day, with the highlight being the brutal "The Final Episode" - Worsnop's ashtray vocals gave the band's sound a more organic feel than the one's heard on the record. With a new album in the pipe line, a noticeable change in style may be on the cards. (4/5)

The winner of "pleasant surprise of the festival" award goes to Papa Roach, narrowly beating the moderately sanitized toilets and edible food to collect the prize. Jacoby Shaddix and his band pulled no punches, playing a set filled with hits including the excellent "Between Angels and Insects" and club favourite "Last Resort". Shaddix's announcement that the band had been going for 20 years was a shock to many, but the experience was telling from a group that clearly knew how to approach a music festival. (5/5)

After Papa Roach came a trip to 1986 to see Europe, who delivered a set that I can only say was 'A few tunes then Final Countdown'. Although 'Final Countdown' was brilliant. (3/5).

Re-visiting the Main Stage were Korn, who opened with classic "Blind" and immediately following into the outrageously manical "Twist" and the huge "Coming Undone". The Godfathers of Nu Metal re-affirmed their status as one of metal's big draws and confirmed that with excellent renditions of their newer stuff too - "Narcissitic Cannibal" not sounding out of place despite it's sonic uniqueness. (4/5)

Bullet For My Valentine followed with another set of precision and power - Matt Tuck's newly shorn locks almost emphasizing the bands comfort with their transition into a "big" band. Songs like "Tears Don't Fall" and "The Last Fight" were comfortable with the huge billing that was implied by their position on the line -up and once again - BFMV fail to disappoint. (5/5)

The stage was set for Slipknot to deliver a couple of hours of the brutality they've become famous for and they did just that - the curtain falling to Iowa hit "Disasterpiece" before launching into a set packed with chart toppers and under-the-radar gems (if a Slipknot song can be called that) like "Get This". There was a moment of genuine emotion when a giant "2" was unfurled to pay homage to fallen bassist Paul Gray but the sadness didn't distract from what was a truly enthralling performance.

The manic response from the entire crowd to the band was telling and was not replicated by any other during the festival. Slipknot, like Metallica in the 90's after 'The Black Album' was released have reached the top of the heavy metal mountain and are leering down at the competition with scorn. The 9 controversially dressed men from a small town in America are now part of this generations most universal metal band - and only after four albums. They may not have the history and the record sales of a Metallica or an Iron Maiden - those will come in time - but ask any 20 year old metal fan to name 5 Slipknot songs and they can. Ask them to replicate the trick with Maiden or Metallica it becomes a bit of a struggle. Like it not, Slipknot are the Kings of metal's 21st Century and Download 2013 was just another crowning moment. (5/5)

Slayer Will Never Be The Same again - and They Should Acknowledge That

First it was Jeff Hanneman, who died on May 2nd with liver failure, and then it was Dave Lombardo, who was fired weeks after Hanneman's death. In less than a month, Slayer lost two of it's founding members. Suddenly, the man who wrote the riff in 'Raining Blood' and the drummer that reinvented the art of metal percussion with 5 seconds near the end of 'Angel Of Death' aren't in the band that those songs are credited to.

Slayer have changed. They are different, and will never be the same again.

Hanneman is an obvious loss, even more tragic when the circumstances are considered. With Lombardo, there is personal differences - Hanneman cannot be apologized to and brought back. No longer will the blonde headbanger be seen standing in his familiar stage-left position, duelling with Kerry King with the consistent brutality that was always underappreciated next to King's more - obvious -  style.

Dave Lombardo is the best metal drummer in the world. That's it. Forget those who drool over Joey Jordison's Tommy Lee impersonations for Slipknot and Mark Portonoy's progressive chops. Those guys are impressive, but no-one so emphatically surmises all that is metal drumming better than Dave Lombardo. Lightning fast, brutally consistent and with exceptional stamina and technique - nothing evokes the relentless power of thrash metal more than DL's 32nd notes on the kick drum, his one handed 16th notes on the hi-hat in a metal world where most drummers avoid it as a technique, his almost scientific attention to percussive detail. His drumming is key to the Slayer sound, their appeal and their cult status.

Hanneman is the same. Slayer aficionados will wax lyrical about Hanneman's contribution to the greatest of the Slayer songs, and a little bit of research will inform of his huge contribution to their, and arguably metal's greatest and purest album - Reign In Blood.

Now, Slayer will move on with Paul Bostaph on drums and one of Pat O'Brien or Gary Holt as guitarist. All three are great musicians, but quite simply not to the extent that Jeff and Dave were.

Even if the songs are replicated perfectly - there is something intangibly brilliant about the chemistry that original members of bands have with each other that can't be quantified by how accurate the notes are. That magic is gone with Slayer forever, assuming that this is Lombardo's last stint with the band. Bands can recapture and continue that aura if one person leaves - AC/DC managed it without Bon Scott, Guns N' Roses did it in the early 90's without Izzy Stradlin - but more than that and the band, however successful, always has a certain karaoke feel to it. Without Hanneman Slayer has no lungs, without Lombardo it has no guts.

If anything they should acknowledge it - are they really Slayer now? With two out of the four gone, metal's most evil band are now a sinister version of the White Stripes. You could make an argument that they should stop being called 'Slayer' - as long as Lombardo is gone too.

They won't - as long as Tom Araya is still screaming and Kerry King and his tattoos are still adorning metal posters everywhere most of Slayer's obvious traits are still intact, but for the rest of us it won't feel right, and never will again.

So, if you get the chance - listen to Reign In Blood, or Christ Illusion or watch the Big Four show in 2010 where the world's most relentless thrash band showed why they were impervious to criticism, nu metal and metal-fearing Christians. Without Hanneman and Lombardo, they just seem much more mortal. Without Hanneman and Lombardo, Slayer will never be the same again.

Return Of The King: 3 Issues Jose' Mourinho Must Address at Chelsea

Mourinho is back.

The 'Special One' finally has returned to the country that turned him from coaching prodigy into bona fide celebrity, confirming one of the worst kept secrets in the history of sport. However, far from the glittering reunion that most English pundits had in mind when the Portugese coach first expressed his wish to come back to the rainy island, a more accurate description would be 'exile from Madrid'. Due to the manner of his Spanish tenure Mourinho has lost some of the spark, some of the mystique that made him such an attractive option for Florentino Perez and his Champions League craving cohort. The chaos that the press-happy coach brought with him from club to club was acceptable as long as the players were happy and the trophies kept coming but when one - or as the case was in Madrid - both dry up, the futility of the inherent tension the former Inter tactician creates becomes more apparent.

However, he should have no problem at Chelsea. A club that in recent history has had more bitter spats and shady politics than several episodes of Game Of Thrones, Mou should quickly find his feet again in a country that not only accepts off-the field madness, but encourages them. Add in the fact he has bunch of players that are used to more staff inconsistencies than most others, and it's a match made in tabloid heaven.

That said, there are a few issues that Jose' is going to have to address if he is to turn the Stamford Bridge outfit into the stingy, relentless, winning machines that they were when he left in 2007.

1) Sort out the defence

Far from the backline that leaked just 15 goals on it's way to a Premier League title - the Londoners shipped 39 in domestic competition thanks to a rolling back line that was often fraught with errors. David Luiz, while fantastic with the ball at his feet tends to have the positional sense of a a drunken moth, and the John Terry/Gary Cahill/Bratislav Ivanovic combination doesn't quite have the same bulletproof sheen that 2004 era Terry-Carvalho had. Jose' knows more than most that a winning team is built from the back, and he'd do well to address that immediately upon his arrival in London.

2) Finally (for real this time) phase out the veterans

If Jose' Mourinho is going to have the "happy and successful time" at Chelsea he must do what no manager has done yet; finally move on from the old heads. John Terry, Frank Lampard and to a lesser extent, Ashley Cole - are almost part of the furniture at Stamford Bridge and between them have conspired to make several manager's lives difficult in attempting to rebuild and move on from them. Mourinho must summon all of his personal skills to slowly edge away from the players he once used as a title winning foundation nearly ten years go. If he can't - Chelsea will continue to suffer from a stagnant flux that comes with relying on players whose legs can't do what their egos demand of them. If anyone can do it, it's Mourinho.

3) Fernando Torres

Hanging over Chelsea like a cloud - Fernando Torres is the Spanish Elephant in the room at Stamford Bridge. The £50m man was heralded as the replacement for Didier Drogba - but form, confidence and pressure have combined to ensure that the latter half of Il Nino's Premier League career will be remembered as a montage of frustrating nearly moments. There have been times when Torres has been "back" but in truth, the 'real' Torres is confined to Youtube. Chelsea, it seems, are deciding to bring another striker as their #1 guy and Torres will once again play second fiddle unless Mourinho decides otherwise. Jose' will have to make a decision whether to gamble on the confidence of the once dominating Spaniard or place his trust elsewhere.

The Man Who Sold his Soul to a Red Devil - The End of an Era at Manchester United

So it's finally over.

End of the chewing gum, the rants, the pointing at watches and barely concealed cursing at officials. End of the controversial quotes, the "squeaky bum time" and the red faced, red hot will to win that poured from the touchline like lava to light a fire under his players. The end of an era.

27 years, 38 trophies and several completely different, completely dominant eras, Sir Alex Ferguson leaves behind a legacy that the statue outside Old Trafford only goes so far to explain. Since Ferguson took over in a time of footballing austerity in Manchester, looking longingly at their rivals at Merseyside celebrating title after title with winning team after winning team. When Alex took over, the score was 18-7 in favor of Liverpool.

1993 was the watershed moment, where 7 years of struggles and squad purging finally paid off and Ferguson could look to every member of his team knowing it was his. Then came the Cantona years, where all the vitriol, chaos and romance that football signifies was encapsulated by one upturned shirt collar.

1999 was the probably the most satisfying success of all; where the heroics of Roy Keane in Turin were matched by the magic of the Nou Camp two weeks later, and Peter Schmeichel got his perfect farewell while the best schoolboys in England stood together as the best team in Europe.

The turn of the 21st century came with it's own challenges; Wenger and Mourinho on the field, his health off it. Thoughts of retirement crept in as age began to wear, but the will to win remained, and United continued to roll on toward success after success.

2008 marked the 50th anniversary of the Busby Babes, and appropriately another European title for a team led by another significant #7. Cristiano Ronaldo's era at the forefront of United's greatest side under Ferguson(so says the man himself) is another paragraph in this, one of many tributes to a career that has been integral to history of a club, a community and a country.

Manchester United's successes paved the way for the progress of the Premier League, lost in the dark ages of a European reputation tarnished by tragedy. The continued success and eventual marketability of Manchester United ensured that the club became Manchester United the brand, and by definition - English football, the brand.

The deals with Nike, the memorable players and the continuous victories have become entrenched in a club's reputation so emphatically one struggles to think of a time without a successful, popular Manchester United. United changed football in England for the better, by being victorious. Alongside the thousands - no millions - of fans that will mourn the retirement of Britain's greatest manager, Rupert Murdoch should be weeping into a handkerchief.

27 years, hundreds of different players, dozens of different formations, shapes and surprises  but one constant: success. Football is weakened by the exit of a man who could choose his destiny in a sporting culture that often doesn't give it's a clients a choice.

When Ferguson took over the score was 18-7. He leaves with it at 18-20.

Sir Alex Ferguson. Bloody hell.

Top 5 Over Extended Film Franchises

"You're still here? Hey, I was going to say that!"

After of the release of the 5^th(!!!) Die Hard movie, where a near 60 year old Bruce Willis attempts to convince cinema goers that he is still capable of jumping out of windows and destroying crime syndicates despite the crows feet by his eyes, I have put together a list of the 5 most over-extended, overdone and we-wish-it-was-already-over film franchises. Ready? Here we go..

5) Die Hard

Saved by the fact the first two films were actually great, Die Hard began as Bruce Willis’s greatest success as an actor as he a played straight talking, cigarette smoking gunslinger that chased down terrorists and other easy-to-dislike bad guys. Then Die Hard 3 came out, then 4, and now we have 5. Bruce never dies. But we sort of wish he did.

4) Resident Evil

Virus spreads, Zombies run, it’s always behind you and Milla Jovovic always survives. Resident Evil started brilliantly – the first film grossed over $102m in the box office but the next four films soon became stagnant and boring. The story remained the same while the setting around it changed from abandoned lab to abandoned city to lab, to city. Even the sight of Jovovic’s nipples piercing through a poorly worn tank top became dull. Eventually.

3) Saw

The tediousness of the so called “torture porn” series where the justice obsessed “Jigsaw” abducts, ties up and gruesomely kills some morally bereft Americans is matched only by the gut wrenching nature of the poorly lit and over-CGI’d deaths that occupy 60% of the film. The fact that they killed off the killers character in the third instalment of the series has not stopped the producers creating a further three films, with a seventh in 3D, taking the disappointment to an entirely new medium. ‘I want to play a game..’ Again?!

2) Rocky

Montage, punching, montage, awful dialogue, montage, snapshot, Sly Stallone’s incessant mumblings and face like porridge. At first it was ok, when Mr T got involved it became like a circus act. Still speaking about the prospect of a Rocky VII like he’s not 66 and a visage that is slowly overtaking his mother’s for shock value, Rocky is the boxing film that we wished would’ve stayed down at the count.

1) Police Academy

Starting in 1984, featuring 7 films to date and the prospect of an 8^th, frighteningly embarrassing last grab at the cheap humour and age old slapstick jokes that made the prospect of the original sequel in 1985 seem like a pointless task, Police Academy is the ultimate in over-extended film franchises. Frankly, it’s amazing how it took them a year to put out the same film 7 times. Just do one each day and put us all out of our misery.

Life After Suarez? Philippe Coutinho Could Be the Answer for Liverpool and the “Project”

Small, fresh faced and agile, Philippe Coutinho received the ball near the touchline. The Brazilian shuffled in between two defenders, cut onto his right boot before releasing a 20 yard through ball that split the unaware Aston Villa defence for the onrushing Jordan Henderson to gratefully finish.

It was a moment of true quality, nearly followed by another as his South American counterpart Luis Suarez unleashed a similarly delightful pass for his new teammate minutes later, who was inches away from putting his own name on the score-sheet. It would’ve been his third goal in just six appearances since joining the Merseyside giants in January. 

After being left out of Inter’s plans since re-joining the Nerazzurri in summer, Coutinho has settled in wonderfully at Liverpool and could be the answer to the questions that would surface should the other South American star at Anfield choose to leave.

Although the comparisons between Brendan Rodger’s 22 -goal talisman and his Brazilian understudy are fairly moot at this point given the contract that brought Coutinho to England probably still has wet ink, there are definite similarities in the optimism both players have brought to a club that has been bereft of a long term plan for some years. Like Suarez has performed in a manner that has befitted the mythical “7” that emblazons the Uruguayan’s back, Coutinho is the first fresh faced, exciting player to don the number 10 shirt since a certain Michael Owen tortured defences at the turn of the century. The fact that the former Real Madrid poacher is due to retire in summer provides context to that statement. It’s been a long time.

Signed by Inter at the request of none other than Rafa Benitez, Coutinho was hailed as “the future” of the Italian giants by President Massimo Moratti at the attacker’s presentation, words that ring loud and uncomfortably in the ears of disillusioned Nerazzurri fans. Philippe was meant to be the generation after Mourinho’s treble winners yet like most decisions Rafael Benitez has made in his career ; they all seem to benefit Liverpool eventually.

A pawn in the chaos that followed The Special One’s exit from Italy, Coutinho was shipped out to Espanyol, where the benefit of consistent starts and the more forgiving climate of Spain allowed the Brazilian to develop, but upon his return to the peninsula, the 20 year old found himself once again far down the pecking order.

The move to Liverpool and being part of a team that values him as a key member has allowed the youngster to blossom, and with time take up the mantle of talisman – should its current owner choose to ply his trade elsewhere.

The rumours of Luis Suarez’s exit, while just that at the moment, are worth considering nonetheless.

At the age of 26, Suarez is in the form of his life and has between 4-5 years left at the very peak of his game, which just so happens to be the average length of a contract that accompanies a transfer.

Although the Uruguayan has committed himself to the “project” that Brendan Rodgers has got underway at Melwood and enjoys life in the North of England, professional ambition will always plays a large, if not definitive, part. Like all professional athletes, Suarez wants to win. League titles, cups, personal awards and most that holy grail of club football; the Champions League. If Luis thinks that there is more chance of that at Bayern Munich, Juventus or Real Madrid then unless emotion clouds the forward’s logic, he may well end up there this summer, or the next one. It’s not a given, but ambition supersedes loyalty 9 times out 10. Just ask Robin Van Persie.

Players at 26 don’t want to be part of a “project” unless it involves Jose’ Mourinho, Alex Ferguson or £250,000 a week. Unless success is almost guaranteed and guaranteed quickly by that ‘project’(Mourinho, Ferguson) or the right financial lubricant is in place – players will make judgements on moves based on how immediate victories can be. They want to be the final piece to a pre-established puzzle, not building blocks to a foundation that may or may not even get off the ground. Suarez is in a project, and sooner or later he’s going to want success. History remembers winning players; only fans remember loyal ones.

However, 20 year olds are interested in projects. They make sense in projects. Hell, their careers at this point can be viewed as projects – predictions of growth made from a combination of Youtube videos and FIFA games. Coutinho is aware that his best years are a couple of years away yet, and it therefore makes perfect sense to join a team that will peak at the same time he does.(However, in today’s game – that could mean Rodgers only has three years before his protégé begins knocking on his door asking for silverware or a raise.)

Either way – with Suarez or without him – Coutinho arguably has more value to the youth centred approach at Liverpool than his teammate, despite his older counterpart being almost the sole match winner at the Kop. Coutinho has ten years before Liverpool have to think about a replacement (assuming he stays that long, of course) while Suarez has four or five, all of which would be centred around a will he leave/won’t he leave scenario if Liverpool don’t deliver glory, a situation that has hung like a cloud over the respective clubs of Robin Van Persie, Luka Modric and Cristiano Ronaldo in recent years(it’s also worth pointing out that in those three examples, they all left).

Coutinho is part of the project, part of a long term plan. Along with Raheem Sterling, Daniel Sturridge, Joe Allen and others – Liverpool are not a side built to win today. They are a side being  built to win tomorrow. If Luis Suarez isn’t prepared to wait, then Liverpool are not the club for him to be at.

A player of undeniable class and this writer’s pick for player of the season, Suarez’s exit would be a huge hole to fill for Liverpool, and a loss for English football as a whole. However, with Coutinho and the £25m+ Liverpool would inevitably receive to relinquish his services, the hole is smaller than it would be, and the success of the “project” - should he leave - would remain just as likely.

The Download Industry is Taking Away the Romance of Music

Don't get me wrong. I love the internet. I like the online communities I've joined through social networks, I like the opportunity it's given me to write about what I want, talk about what I want and find out about what I want. I'm English and I can support an Italian team and follow US sports without any problems whatsoever, thanks to the internet.
However, when it comes to music, I've grown to detest it. Now, I discover a lot of new music through Youtube, that's fine - but the feeling of excitement and sheer exhilaration that comes with buying new music in hard copy is nearly a thing of the past.
Soon I will no longer be able to walk into a record shop, as my hometown recently lost the only outlet of it's kind when HMV slipped into administration recently. No longer will I be able to scroll through shelves myself, pick a CD having no idea what it sounds like and take it home. Obviously, there's always Amazon, but the magic of delivery nullifies the statement I'm trying to make.
Thanks to downloading and every song being available at the click of a not-quite-legitimate website, customers are no longer willing to buy whole albums, simply stealing the one song they like and leaving it at that. Album sales have dropped, Record Labels are struggling and live concerts are now nearly the only way that most bands make any money.
As a result, the only bands that get faith from labels now are dead certs to make money; X Factor winners and already established acts from a time when labels could take risks on an artist. Bands have to fund themselves, hoping to be the next big thing on bit torrent, rather than Top Of The Pops.
Youtube videos and advertisements have replaced EP sales and merchandising, and the traditional vision of a band hitting the road in the search of success has been replaced by Pro Tools experts hitting their computers and Twitter accounts looking for the next big retweet. Noone has to pay for anything, so noone will.
So now, when you hear a song on the radio, how many of you buy the album on Amazon? How many of you buy it all?
Unsigned music has both benefited and suffered thanks to the growth of the internet; The Arctic Monkey's Myspace ascendancy in 2006 was groundbreaking but is now completely unsurprising.
I've been in music for 6 years now and I've made about £5. I've done gigs, Albums, EP's and photo shoots since I was 14. But you can't sell something to someone they're used to getting for free.

When I hear a song, I still tend to buy the whole album, still addicted to the feeling I get when holding an album, opening the cover, reading the liner notes and debating which song I'm going to enjoy best.
That romance for many people is gone, and for a lot it never existed. Soon, music will just be another institution, bereft of the anecdotal quality and mystique that makes it so appealing and still warrants obsession from the hoards of adoring fans.
The romance has gone. How long before the music is too?

That's all, folks! #1 Bruce Springsteen and The E Street Band - Born To Run

The music industry in 1974 was a strange place. The last remnants of the "free love" era of the 1960's were dying out; the Beatles, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison had either died or called it quits, whilst Elvis was fading fast(and would be dead just three years later). The heavier Rock scene was picking up, but didn't reach the dizzying heights of world domination until later in the decade. 1974 was a transitional period. The romance of pop and rock culture was seeping away, and something needed to bring it back.

Enter a young Bruce Springsteen, still infatuated by the shining promise of the American dream, and thrust that raw optimism to the world with "Born To Run", his flagship of romance and righteousness.

And with it, came Springsteen's sound. A collection of instruments never before associated with the Spartan traditions of rock 'n roll, Bruce collated sax, glockenspiel, piano, organ and his now famous harmonica to create a movie score type feel - expansive, open and brash. He combined this with the raw energy of an up-and-coming club band and Springsteen's own street-poet prose.

The result was magic. Opening with the optimistic freedom of "Thunder Road", Springsteen sings of breaking free, and getting loose and experiencing a world far removed from the New Jersey turnpike. In "Night" he speaks of the mundane life - "You work 9 to 5, somehow you survive" and in the seminal title track "Born To Run", he gathers all the ingredients needed to make a blockbuster film - the characters, the hardship and the will to succeed and condenses them into 4 and a half minutes. Of Jungleland, a musical masterpiece in itself, Springsteen pens the struggles of city living almost autobiographically, set in the back drop of one long night, full of hope, dreams and misadventure. The lyrical content is wonderful, visionary; "A barefoot girl sitting on the hood of a dodge, drinking warm beer in the soft summer rain...the kids down here look just like shadows, always quiet, holding hands".

Springsteen said of Born To Run years after it's release that it's all written about "one, long summer night" - with all the characters breaking free of their respective vices under the same sky, connected by the same hopes and dreams in one period of time.

By writing of escape and happiness in his album and portraying that message to the masses, he created hope in itself. His concerts have been described as "more of a spiritual gathering than a rock concert", where people go and they feel hopeful, they share the raw faith and optimism that Springsteen felt as he wrote the album in his bedroom in New Jersey.

He created the escape for people whilst attempting to do so for himself. Rock 'N Roll was Springsteen's big break - the record label were prepared to drop him if Born To Run didn't sell - and in a way, it was ours too.

For me, this album is the musical foundation of my personality. My dad is a huge Springsteen fan, and when I was brought back from the hospital, I was sat in front of the speaker and played "Born To Run", in full. It was the first piece of music I ever heard as a living individual, and has since patterned who I am. It reminds me of childhood, of the sunny perspectives and the innocent viewpoint from which I viewed the world. When I hear Born To Run, I revert back to that innocent child, forgetting everything but the moment I am wrapped in, with a broad smile across my face.

Born To Run was written just as the music industry needed a hero. It got one, and an album to set its stall by. Springsteen has since gone on to sell millions of records, headline festivals and still to this day embarks on expansive world tours, bringing his dreams and visions to a new crowd, a new collection of faces.

Everyone needs a hope. Born To Run is mine.

#2 Metallica - Master Of Puppets

The year is 1986.

Bon Jovi, America’s latest sweet heart, has released his soon to be hit album “Slippery when Wet”. Filled with glam hits such as “Living on a Prayer” and “You Give Love A Bad Name”, the blonde boy from New Jersey capturing the hearts of lonely teenage girls everywhere, propelling his name to the top of the Billboard charts. The biggest selling song from this year, slap bang in the middle of a decade where MTV and hairspray rule supreme, is appropriately Europe’s “The Final Countdown”. It has only been 12 months since Live 8, but mainstream music has hit new heights materialistically.

In the spring of this, most sparkly of decades, 4 men from San Francisco descend upon a small studio in Denmark to record their third album. Fresh from the underground success of their previous project, the long haired, tight jeaned ruffians from the land of hope and glory hit Europe looking to build on their cult status and break the cultural zeitgeist of heavy metal.
That’s right, Heavy Metal. The style of music far left of traditional Rock ‘n’ Roll was going through a transitional phase at this point, the “Classic Rock” acts that made their name in the mid to late 70’s are fading away, from Led Zeppelin’s break up 6 years prior, to the continued decay of Heavy Metal pioneers Black Sabbath, who were so comprehensively outshone on their own headline tour by spandex donning fireworks Van Halen.

However, just bubbling under the surface, there is a new, energetic style of Metal, appropriately called “Thrash Metal”. Fusing the operatic fantasy of traditional classic Rock with the energy of Punk and New Wave of British Heavy Metal(Bands like Iron Maiden, Saxon etc), Thrash is America’s latest dent on society, beginning in 1983 and acquiring a firm following thanks to the “tape trading” movement – the 80’s version of file sharing.

By 1986, Thrash was on the verge of a breakthrough, but it was crying out for an album to really stand out, to bridge the gap between traditional metal fans, and the shiny new Thrash ones. And Metallica, the band I am reviewing today, did just that with Master of Puppets.

Released in March, Master of Puppets has all the classic hallmarks of a great piece of work, a defining Thrash album. It took the fiery energy of Thrash, the punky drum beats and aggressive strokes, and combined it with an almost ethereal spark of musicality, allowing it to transcend categories, and appeal on an almost universal level.

It begins with “Battery”, and a deep texture of acoustic guitar that ominously grows in volume, building up to a slippery, snake like riff that sets the tone for the rest of proceedings. Clocking in at 5:13, the opener is one of the shortest songs in 'Puppets, but ticks all the boxes in terms of the peerless brutality that has become associated with Metal.

The next track, “Master of Puppets”, is a superlative work of art, effortlessly blending the dark, burning nature with the contrasting beauty of a classical piece. The song hits hard until the 3:35 mark, before fading into a clean, picked guitar playing around the chord of E Minor and D. This washes into an intricate harmony guitar interlude, a solo, and then rebuilds back all the way to the main, now world famous riff. It finishes with a collection of manic laughter, and closes a curtain on what is a sumptuously satisfying 8 and a half minutes.

 A second of silence follows before the third, a deafeningly heavy tribute to a deep sea creature, and literally feels like you are taking a dive, sifting through fathoms of water. The bass heavy sound and echo sound on James Hetfield’s mic give the work a cave like openness.

The fourth, beginning with another E minor picked intro and finishing with a squealing cacophony, is ode to madness “Welcome Home(Sanitarium)”. Another fantasia esque opening complete with distorted chorus that Kurt Cobain would later make world famous in “Smells like Teen Spirit”, the song rises in emotion and perceived desperation with every upturn in volume, culminating with the “Just leave me alone!” line ¾ of the way through.

The 5^th, “Disposable Heroes” is a prog infested thrill ride through the both World War’s, focusing on the anonymity of the dead soldiers. Slowly churning at the beginning, the song explodes like a cannon after a minute and half, turning into a thrash – rock piece, varying tempos often and unexpectedly, featuring the now clichéd “group vocal” chorus of “back to the front”

The 6^th, another sniping social commentary, is “Leper Messiah”, unambiguously referring to Christianity, likening the religious movement to a visceral plague. The tempo of the piece is relatively mild, perhaps a conscience decision to allow the message, rather than the music, come to the fore.
After “Leper Messiah” reaches its conclusion, the layered bass tones of instrumental masterpiece “Orion” seep into the listeners’ consciousness. What begins with a cerebral chordal piece, slowly develops into a grinding, patient riff, accentuated with flourishes of lead guitar. Then, comes the interlude, and a moment of rare beauty. A slow bass riff, picked out with clarity and gentility, breaks into a lead passage with classical precision, culminating in a bass and guitar solo, the former being shockingly technical.

The final act of this gripping drama is “Damage Incorporated”. Unrelenting, no holds barred, the speed alone is a timely reminder that after all, this is a thrash album.

When one looks back at the thrash scene, Master Of Puppets will stand as the release that helped propel it into the mainstream metal audience. Hitting the Top 40 without any radio or video airplay, MOP is and always will be a timeless tribute to an era, music and a movement.

#3 AC/DC - Back In Black

19th Febrary 1980. Bon Scott, lead singer of AC/DC is found lifeless inside a Renault 5 in South London. Pronounced dead on his arrival to the hospital, the world wakes up to find one of the biggest Rock 'N Roll bands of the day are now without a lead singer.

It was a tragic moment that could have seen the end of AC/DC, guitarist's Malcom and Angus Young considering whether to call it time in the band in memory of Scott. However, from all the unlikely sources, it was Bon's bereaving family that gave them the nod to continue, believing it was what Scott would have wanted.

They hired "Geordie"(the name of his band, not his accent...although, he was actually a Geordie) singer Brian Johnson, a man who Bon Scott himself recommended, and set to work.

So, rejuvenated by the news that they will continue, and inspired by the sadness that had preceded the album and the willingness to cement a fitting tribute to their fallen comrade, AC/DC began work on what has since become the legendary "Back In Black" album.

Opening with a fitting nod towards Scott with a song he helped write, "Hells Bells" starts with the ominous chime of church bells before leading into the sinister riff that sets the tone for song, and the album. This was refined, this was precise. AC/DC were back, and they meant business.

Following on from the opener, "Back In Black" rattles through hit after hit on an album that packs more punch than an a four armed Chuck Norris. The sexual shenanigans in sing along rock song "You Shook Me All Night Long" and the rifforama frenzy that made the title track "Back In Black" one of the single most recognisable Rock riffs in history, "Back In Black" is AC/DC's defining album.

With "Back In Black", AC/DC made the transition from big Rock band to true gods of the industry. Selling 49 million copies to date, it is the third highest selling album ever, and the highest selling hard rock album ever. Telling statistics of the album's mass appeal. It wasn't an album that particularly had any metaphorical weight, AC/DC weren't trying to tell a story, nor were they making a political statement. It was good, honest, hard-working Rock 'N Roll for the masses. And maybe that's why it appealed to everyone. What's not to like? Riffs? Check. Vocals? Check. Wild guitar solos? Check. Check. Check.


When it all boils down, music is a motivator. A lifter. A collection of people making lots of noise that comes together to make one, big sound. And AC/DC are just that. They had a fucking massive sound, and they sold it to the world.

Back In Black: The world's greatest tribute.

#4 Guns N Roses - Appetite for Destruction

They say every city has an underbelly. An underground, that sits next to the glitz and clean streets, providing an alternate reality to modern living.
It's the same with music. For every prissy, hairbrushed pop song sent from the depths of Sony BMG, equating the concept of life and death as we know it to how much we dance in a nightclub, there is a gritter, dirtier, and perhaps more realistic musical take on things lying just under the surface.

In 1987, Guns 'N Roses were that underbelly. Emerging from a LA Rock scene diluted with Motley Crue and Poison wannabes, the famous strip was awash with make up wearing, back combing, glam rock bands.

But then, like now there was an underground. During the time that the Thrash Metal scene had moved up toward San Francisco in search of less feminine shores, Guns 'N Roses stayed, swallowing all the glitz and glam before spitting it back out in their own unique way.

And out of that particular orifice came "Appetite For Destruction", an album packed to the brim with poison, tales of sex, debauchery and over reliance on heroin. And my god, we loved it.

Opening the true to life description of city living in "Welcome to the Jungle", a song written based on an experience singer Axl Rose and rhythm guitarist Izzy Stradlin shared in their youth, meeting a old black man on their first foray outside home, who shrieked "Welcome to the Jungle boy - You gonna' die!".

It set the tone. The sultry, sleazy guitar tone, Axl's bluesy cries from the microphone, tied together with a rock solid rhythm-bass-drums trio were the order of the day, and it was fantastic.

Sailing through "It's so easy" and "Nighttrain", the former a fairly self explanatory description of the rockstar life style, the latter an ode to a cheap wine the band drank whilst scraping for pennies pre-record deal, Guns 'N Roses had honed a sound previously unheard, combining the raw, brash animalistic tendencies of Rock 'N Roll with well mixed precision, and even a ballad in club classic "Sweet Child 'O Mine".

The difference between G'N'R and most other bands were that the tales they told of deprivation, of poverty, addiction and lust, they were all real. This was not a record label selling a cliche', this was a Rock 'N Roll band being autobiographical.

They were four misfits who stumbled upon each other in the Los Angeles wilderness and this is the noise they made. No more, no less. And with it, they pierced the trend they went against in the first place. G'N'R becoming the bridge between the Poison's, Motley Crue's, the Bon Jovi's of the world and the heavier, dingier, more metal; acts sitting just under the surface too.

They looked great, they sounded great, they acted like rockstars before they became them and by the time they did, it didn't feel like a transition.

It is a testament to them as a band, and to "Appetite For Destruction" as an album to cement a lasting appeal and impact where so many others had failed. Motley Crue were the band of the day, but put "Girls, Girls, Girls" on after "Sweet Child 'O Mine" and the numbers singing along will drop.

They have now been entered into the prestigious "Rock N' Roll Hall Of Fame", alongside Metallica, Ozzy Osbourne, AC/DC and so many more legendary acts as they too have become part of the rich mosaic that is the foundation of the Rock 'N Roll industry.

And they are. They are now legends, and that début album - arguably the greatest début of all time, has gone down in history too.

In every city there's an underbelly. Every industry has an underground. But not very often does a band that was so resolutely underground and anti-industry become a stadium filling, chart topping and history making. And for that, I salute Guns N' Roses, and "Appetite For Destruction".

#5 UFO - Strangers In The Night

Recorded during Rock's first and strongest grip on the music industry, UFO's live album "Strangers In The Night" was taken from their live tour of America in 1978. It is by and large, one of the more anonymous records that punctuated that era, never receiving the same admiration as other seminal works from more storied bands such as Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple, or even live albums from the period, like Thin Lizzy's "Live and Dangerous" or AC/DC's "If You Want Blood".

Which is a massive shame, because it's fucking brilliant. As a live chronicle of a bands back catalogue, this is up there with the holy trinity of Classic Rock live albums(The aforementioned twosome and Deep Purple's "Made in Japan"). The prog stylings of "Love to Love You", AC/DC-esque(if only in the titling, UFO similar to the Aussie band in the tendency to use the word "Rock"in as many songs as possible) "Rock Bottom" and "Only You Can Rock Me", and my favourite, the excellent "Doctor Doctor".

For those of you who know little to nothing of UFO apart from their homage to extra-terrestrial life, never fear, I will inform you.

Formed as far back as 1969, UFO were very much part of the early British adoption of the Rock N' Roll scene and later development into the budding Heavy Metal scene.

After recruiting Scorpion's guitarist and general madcap Michael Schenker in 1973, the bands musical  breakthough came whilst recording 1977's "Lights Out" album. The band scored success with the album prompted them to record themselves in their musical peak whilst trundling around the US, which leaves us with "Strangers In The Night".

My Dad loves this album. As a big UFO fan, and therefore self appointed "defender" of UFO given the minimal fanfare that surrounds them these days, my old man felt the need to blast them out of his stereo system with an internal sense of kinship. Because, for him - and latterly myself, it was quite obvious that UFO were never going to penetrate the cultural Zeitgeist of the musical world, reaching the stadium filling, Marshall amp shattering heights of Zeppelin, AC/DC or latterly Bruce Springsteen, Bon Jovi or Gun N' Roses.

But that was the point. The album, the music and the band felt personal. Rather than turning into the distant, larger than life characters presented by some members of the music industry, it almost felt like one of your friends bands. Don't get me wrong, UFO are for all intents and purposes a "big band", and very comfortably support themselves to this day. It's not like they're a small garage band that my Dad discovered as a teenager and kept the tapes.

But that's not the point. The thing was aside from being a cracking band, with all the big belting choruses, guitar solo's and fills you would expect(honestly, if AC/DC or Aerosmith brought out "Doctor Doctor", it'd be massive), they were small, and therefore very close. They keep going because they rely on their fans, and their fans rely on them. It's a little heartwarming, almost to be part of a cult that relies on all its members continued loyalty to keep afloat.

And to me, that was important. The music being great helped too. The music that came out of "Lights Out" was as bold as anything came out that year(including the outbreak of Punk) - the use of keyboards, extended solos and instrumental pieces topped off by lead singer Phill Mogg's near operatic tone reminded me of the Iron Maiden led "NWBHM(New Wave of British Heavy Metal)" that came a year later, and was expertly captured in "Strangers In the Night".

The energy, the musicality and bound together by a band that is clearly at the zenith of the musical career, where talent and ambition briefly marry with the newly found professionalism and maturity that only comes with experience.

UFO - not a lot of people know who they are. And isn't that nice?

#6 Arctic Monkeys - Everything People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not.

After paranoia surrounding the ushering of the 21st Century, mainly focusing on the millenium bug and the unusual length of dominance displayed by boybands and Pokemon, the inception of the 21st Century as an era within it's own right took a while. It took a full five years before the 21st Century gained identity, rather than remain a '90's hangover.

Social networking, the instantaneous, consumer dominated age we wallow in today is present thanks to a series of changes, largely through the development of the Internet as the dominant tool in communication, and near enough everything else.

Along this theme, there is one album - to me, at least, that stand out as one of the most indicative of this new age we now take for granted.

Formed in Sheffield in 2002, but releasing their debut some 4 years, The Arctic Monkeys were brash, openly colloquial, and musically talented. Sadly a rarity, when one thinks of the "Americanisation" of the modern music industry.

However, oddly - it is not their sound I wish to focus on. After spending some years (I assume unsuccessfully) giving out their music for free at gigs on burnt CD's, the band had acquired a small amount of fans, a couple of which had set up a page on the upcoming social media site Myspace.

Utilising the sites viral and wide reaching global audience, the band's fan page reached a remarkable amount of popularity, thrusting them into a level of limelight and media hype that was previously unmarked territory for unsigned bands.

Because of the site's ability to put the band on a pedestal before a global audience, the band's first single - usually a test of the waters for labels - was released to an already established audience, guaranteeing sales.

The album did extraordinarily, selling 363,735 copies in the first week, outstripping the previous record held by Hearsay's Popstars album (reinforcing my point about the 90's hangover)

The album itself is gritty, musically accomplished and fresh to the ears. From the lyrical prose that doffs it's cap to Shakespeare in "I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor" to the wedding band cynicism that slides through "Fake Tales Of San Francisco" and the beautifully choreographed "Dancing Shoes", and finally the sing along classic of the album "When The Sun Goes Down" addressing modern conceptions of villainous character, deliciously baptised "that scummy man" in Alex Turner's northern drawl.

But when I look at the album, and listen to its beguiling modernity and frank nature to notions of binge drinking and cover bands, I think of the Internet, of Myspace and the later development of the "landfill indie" scene, and most importantly - the 21st Century.

#7 - Slipknot - Slipknot

13 years on from the Slayer album that formed the basis of my last post 15 days ago, comes an album that like "Reign In Blood" before it, redefined the meaning of "extreme" metal, and well, everything else.

Originating from Des Moines, Iowa - Slipknot were formed of nine - yes, nine members, including three drummers, a DJ and a man who did "samples". They wore masks, suits that would have been standard issue in a mental asylum and spent the majority of live shows flitting between barely contained aggression and open lunacy.

Their first album, a self titled opus, began with a 30 second recording of various people claiming "the whole thing, I think it's sick", reportedly taken from interviews with members of the public about the Charles Manson murders in the late '60's.

And then, the sound hit you. A refined combination of the speed and thrash metal Slayer and Metallica had become famous for in the 80's, combined with the then modern advent of "scratches" on a DJ deck. And over the top of the musical brutality was a vocalist who could scream, sing and rap, as well as vocally replicate feelings of panic and delusion like no other.

The first full track; "(sic)" features all these elements, mixed in a raw, unrelenting fashion by Roadrunner's Ross Robinson. The line "You can't kill me 'cos I'm already inside you", repeated mantra style at the culmination of the song typifies the approach Slipknot took as a band, and sums up beautifully the effect the nine shock rockers had on the music industry, and teenagers the world over.

Because quite simply, as the album wore on, the Slipknot virus began to spread throughout the system. Suddenly, you were nodding along, tapping your feet and murmuring the lyrics to "Wait and Bleed", or "Eyeless".

It was brutal, relentless and difficult to justify any love for. But damn, it was good. You didn't know why you enjoyed it so much, but you did. In the same way Romans packed the Colosseum to see Lions tear Christians to shreds, you enjoyed the odes to psychosis, the tales of evil that poured from your speaker.

Take "Eyeless", for example. A speed garage/death metal combination that punctuates the introduction, leading into Corey Taylor's lyrics borrowed from a deranged homeless man they met in LA. "Insane, am I the only muthafucker with a brain?/I'm hearing voices but all they do is complain/" leading into the now famous "You can't see California without Marlon Brando's eyes". Genius, right?

To the listener(or maybe just me), it worked. It was new, exciting, and the most defiantly fresh thing to hit metal since Slayer's "Angel Of Death".

And defiance was definitely the word for them. For a teenager, like I was - like the millions that felt the same; Slipknot meant empowerment. Like Punk before it, and pop music's inception before that, it was the ability to say "fuck you" to modern culture, and form your own. I remember being part of this motley crue of modern metal fans in my adolescent, and while there were many disagreements about specifics in musical taste and preference; there was one constant. Slipknot.

They became the standard bearer for modern metal, the band that did it how they wanted to and became successful. I remember reading a story about Slipknot, about when a record label scout came to see them at a show, famously saying "If these make it, I'll kill myself ". Slipknot heard about this, and when they released their self titled album, sent the man a bunch of dead roses with a note "we've made it now, go kill yourself".

And while that as perhaps a bit below the belt, and hopefully a little tongue in cheek, the principle was clear; noone expected them to do it, yet here they are. On their own terms, with their own fans and playing their own, deliciously unique brand of music. And frankly, we needed them.

Slipknot have since opened the gate to bands who now know they can do it on their own terms, and shouldn't be dictated to by market concious label owners. Arguably, Slipknot changed the music industry for the better, rather than blighted it.

Yes, they may be shocking, they maybe obtuse, and even a little frightening, but their music is great and their defiance from the beginning has set a tone could have changed the landscape of the consumer centred music business we now take part in. And I, for one am glad about that.

Here's to Slipknot; the band who did what noone wanted them to do, and built a career on it.

#8 Slayer - Reign In Blood

1986. The year of big hair, big tunes, Bon Jovi and spandex. Europe's "The Final Countdown" is the biggest hit record of the year, hitting number one in more countries than I, or the people that bought it would care to mention.

During this period, a variation of the Heavy Metal genre first christened by Steppenwolf in classic "Born To Be Wild"and defined by Black Sabbath's self titled debut in 1970 began to make some waves outside of the tape trading industry where it first found fans.

Thrash Metal. Combining the intricate, solo heavy stylings of "New Wave Of British Heavy Metal" utilized by Iron Maiden, Diamond Head and Saxon with the brash, speed reliant aggression of punk bands like The Misfits and Dead Kennedys and all encompassing attraction of drug taking, solo wailing, drumkit breaking threesome Motorhead. Beginning with Metallica's far from subtle entrance into the music industry "Kill 'Em All", Thrash was metal for those too punk to like Deep Purple, and those to metal to like The Ramones(which in itself is a mortal sin, The Ramones are great), thus attracting a wide range of followers, sharing in their taste through taped versions of albums and live recordings from gritty clubs around San Francisco.

Since the Metallica's aforementioned debut in 1983, Thrash snowballed - bands like Megadeth and Exodus popping up in the same year, each trying to outdo each other in terms of intricacy and tempo. And with Metallica leaving the pure thrash scene(The Ride The Lightning album in 1984 already showing open attempts to distance away from original thrash, "Fade to Black a ballad beginning with an acoustic guitar, for example) as quickly a they'd coined it, it was up to the others to quite literally pick up the pace.

This race was quickly ended by today's topic of discussion, Slayer.

A band whose 1985 album, "Hell Awaits" was so quick singer Tom Araya had to sing faster than many of today's Grime artists simply to keep up, continued the theme with their third album "Reign In Blood".

Teaming with now world famous producer Rick Rubin, Slayer headed in the studio with the intention of recording the defining "the" Thrash album. And it was just that. Clocking in at 29 minutes, featuring near-250bpm 100 second long "Necrophobic", Slayer did more than any other band in history to bridge the gap between hardcore punk and metal.

For me, it was wonderful. Opening with the jaw dropping "Angel Of Death", a near 5 minute ode to brutal Nazi scientist Josef Mengele, the lyrical horrors screamed by Tom Araya over a tighter-than tight combination of crushingly precise guitar and drummer Dave Lombardo's mind boggling accuracy - typified by the kick drum only roll near the end of the song, single handedly rewriting the concept of speed-metal musicianship.

It was shocking. It was quick. It was heavy. For a kid getting into Metallica, Guns N Roses and Iron Maiden, "Reign In Blood" was the steel boot kicking the door open into a new world of music. Like Linkin Park a year or so before, Slayer served to kick it up a notch or several; consigning me to endless evenings spent wailing my drum kit in a futile attempt to recreate Lombardo's work.

It also cemented my now resolute mentality when it comes to metal. If ever an album said defiance, it was Reign In Blood. I felt like I had to defend it, considering it's abrasive and unrelenting sound. It solidified my angst. It felt empowering(not in lyrical content, I'm not a sociopath) musically, and reminded me constantly that if they can do it, so can I. I didn't have to listen to the Top 40, I didn't have to pretend to care. I had Slayer, and from the moment I stared at the hell depicted on the front cover and the fear tinged excitement gave me goosebumps and the feeling that I shouldn't be listening, they had me.

Even to this day, in my ripe old age of 19, I still listen to "Angel of Death" and smile manically, I still sing along to the riff in "Raining Blood" like an over exuberant schoolboy, and every so often I sit behind a drum kit and attempt to recreate the adrenalin pumping work of Dave Lombardo. And that's the way it'll always be.

#9 The Clash - London Calling

Continuing on the somewhat chronological theme that has enveloped my writing, beginning with the first album I ever bought in the last post on Linkin Park's Meteora, I am going to take you back further to a land of SMTV live, Godzilla and Action Men. Oh yes readers, we're going to delve into my childhood.

As a young boy, like most of you guys out there, I was hugely influenced by my Dad's tastes, who spent evening after evening pumping out music from his now 1,000 strong CD collection on a speaker system bigger than I was. From Bob Marley to Black Sabbath, the Sex Pistols to Graham Parker, some of the greatest music to grace 20th Century ears was blasted out on a regular basis, and now acts as a constant musical monologue to some of my earliest memories.

One particular song that left more than a mark upon me was The Clash's "Rudi Can't Fail". An album track from their seminal album "London Calling", Rudi is an upbeat, streetwise ode to liberation, a call to arms for those that share Strummers insistence that they can't "live in service".

However, for me - I was convinced it was about Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer. The chorus line of "Rudi Can't Fail" over and over convinced me that it was about the crimson faced helper's ability to deliver all the presents at Christmas. I know, but I was about 5. I even remember telling a man dressed up as Santa about it, under the impression he'd be delighted at my appreciation of what I must have thought was his anthem.

However, as time went on, and I realised that the ska-punk hybrid was not a reference to Christmas delivery in anyway, I still continued to enjoy it with the same childhood optimism, even if it wasn't based on the same misinformation.

Personal anecdotes aside, the album is a masterpiece. Combining the gritty, fist pumping elements of punk with the still relatively unheard inflections of Ska and reggae, London Calling is probably the most musical and concisely written of all punk albums. In fact, it's not really a punk album. It lacks the animalistic aggression that coloured say, The Sex Pistols "Never Mind The Bollocks", but makes up for it in artistic expression and Strummers poetic rallying calls.

Rebellious rather than anarchic, and measured frustration than blind rage, The Clash's London Calling is the thinking man's revolution. And to me, a flashback to a delightfully simpler time when Rudi just meant the festive creature.