They started off as a chaser to a main pint of bands such as Caronte, Forgotten Tomb and Death SS but over a few albums Whiskey Ritual have become a drinking session in their own right. What they have thrown up in the past has been a pretty impressive pavement pizza of black metal with rocking swaggers and as they reach album number five, the band have left a messy mark that is hard to clean up.
The Italians start things up with a cold riff on the album’s title track straight out of Hellvete before plundering into a rollicking full force blaster with hideous shrieks. This then powers away with some pure black n’ roll grooves, rattling down the tracks in a mad dash for last orders at the bar. Yep, it’s an invigorating opening statement and the band don’t let the feet off the gas pedal in the slightest during the nine songs here. It’s far from a drunken mess either but a well-coordinated attack with some powerful beefy sound about it that gives you no choice but bang your glass down in appreciation, shout “skoll” and fall off the stool you have been propped up on. There’s plenty of rousing parts to sing along to on songs like ‘Robin Hood’ which has gang shouts aplenty as it steals your riches and buys everyone a round with the proceedings. Yeah, there’s a high adrenaline thrust with rock n roll ala intoxicated greasy GG Allin shit-slinging punky bravado on this and short fiery bursts like ‘Trve Escort.’ Although rest assured, any lady of the night entering this watering hole would be very brave indeed.
Occasionally the cult black metal side of things ruggedly piles through, ‘Rien ne vas plus’ for instance toxically spins the wheel and is a powerful evil- sounding diatribe whereas ‘Jetlag’ is by comparison a far from tired sounding classic banger and a half. If hardcore bands sang about Satan instead of being so damn positive and were not straightedge the result could be ‘Eye For An Eye’ which is every bit a clamouring anthem as the title suggests. I’m guessing all this rowdiness does not go down well with everyone as ‘Blue Lights’ try to run our unruly mob out of town whilst some of it is still standing and the ‘Gray Zone’ finalising it all is the inevitable hangover. Rather than leaving you in a fog though a bottle is grabbed, swigged and the party continues spilling long into the next day.
Not so much an album but a full-on binge. Now which one of you muthers is getting the next round in?
(8/10 Pete Woods)
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