May 1987
METAL CONTENTS
CHAINMAIL
Concerning your review of Shot In The Dark, please forward the enclosed to your writer with our compliments. Whilst anyone can live with intelligent criticism, the content of her piece exposed a lame brain stumbling in the dark. We would like to point out that our shark logo should eradicate any halfbaked notions that the band harbors neofascist racism, and that we are at a total loss to find any intimation of such an attitude in the lyrical content of the songs, that the 1984 Piscopo activity only indicates that we don’t take ourselves too seriously, and that the subject matter and production qualities of our self-financed record demonstrate that we certainly take our music and friends seriously.
He Cares Nothing For Yesterday, He's David Lee Roth
Liz Derringer
In case all of you Van Halen/David Lee Roth fans were getting your hopes up, let it be known: “There will never be a reunion.” So says a sizzling, static David Lee Roth. Indeed, this may well have been the fiercest, most embittered parting of ways in rock ’n’ roll history.
NIGHT RANGER EXPLAIN THEIR OWN MIGHT!
Teri Saccone
Talk about your classic identity crisis— Night Ranger is one outfit that’ve experienced a shitload of schizophrenic tendencies. Throughout their five-year tenure at the top of the charts, it’s been virtually impossible to pin down what they’re all about, musically speaking.
MEAT LOAF: There Is A MOUNTAIN
Harold DeMuir
Several months back, members of the British press were alerted to the availability of new Meat Loaf product through a harrowing round of those dopey mockbattlefield games where people shoot paint pellets at each other. Luckily for this healthy, sexually secure American journalist, Meat—who’s in New York promoting his new LP, Blind Before I Stop, and preparing to launch a six-and-a-half month tour—is feeling overworked and under the weather, and is in no mood to subject me to anything more strenuous than a sit-down interview.
ANSWER & WIN! THE METAL IMPERATIVE
It’s that time again, esteemed readers— yes, it’s the time we insist on knowing your opinion of METAL, the very magazine you’re holding. Be you extraterrestrial telepath or one of our rarer human readers, we value your opinion ... so much so that we’re going to draw 10 names at random from your responses and give those lucky readers a free year’s subscription to METAL.
BRITMETAL: Concepts, Rumors & Talk of Quiche!
Sylvie Simmons
Lawsuits, paternity suits, weddings, babies, God, the devil, even the Japanese—the whole of human life is here! Yes, laugh and cry with Britmetal as we reveal what Gary Moore has been up to with old Irishmen, what six hours of Judas Priest can do to your health, and what real men eat at thrash gigs! ... as soon as we get the fashion news out of the way.
RECORDS
Paul “Doctor X” Nanna
The first question that comes to mind is: Why? Why does this band bother to make new albums? Especially when they’re not a whole lot different from their old ones ... Don’t get me wrong. I do like Slayer; I’ve got all their albums and I give a lot of time to each new one when it comes out.
45s MAGNUM SATAN EATS THE COOKIES
Chuck Eddy
It being December as I write, I thought I’d commence with a couple timeless and classic hard rock holiday singles of fairly recent vintage, and then move on to presents you should have received but didn’t. Spinal Tap’s melodically turbid “Christmas With The Devil” (Enigma, P.O. Box 2896, Torrance, CA 90509), released at the tail end of the justly-forgotten foursome’s abortive 1984 comeback bid, is heavy-duty hell-hole umlautmusic-for-money with a stygian text that goes "There’s someone up the chimney and Satan is his name / The rats ate all the presents and the reindeer ran away”; scary stuff, not suited for the squeamish or unduly theological.
METAL VIDEO
Richard Riegel
It’s just a few days before Xmas as I type this, so I’m busy making my list of wanted videos and checking it twice. As it happens, Sandy Claws has already slithered down the chimney of my TV to deliver the new Debbie Harry video, “French Kissin,” which I requested a few columns back.
A Communion With Metal Church
Kris Needs
Heavy metal, 1986. Your head looks like a cat exploding in a padded chair. Your legs look like spandex pencils with a pair of tomatoes stuck on top. Your chest erupts in bare-bronzed ripples from a shiny flat bikini. The lips in your pudgy-but-made-up-to-look-thin face pout furiously.
BAD COMPANY WON'T GO AWAY
Sharon Liveten
People have incredibly short memories. You learn that after working in rock 'n' roll for a few years. If you happen to be an artist (or artistè), rather than a feisty rock journalist, that short-term memory loss can work for and against you. It’s OK if people forget your stiff records, as long as they don’t forget you.
METAL UNDERGROUND
Peter Davis
Oh, boy! It’s time, once again, to hunker down into the subterranean vaults of the Metal Underground. Yes, if you’re tiring of the redundancy of the top-40 tripe we’re being force-fed these days, a quick read of this column may be your basis for new-found hope.
THROUGH THE HOOPS WITH G.B.H.
Alison Aquino
What do Charles Manson and G.B.H. have in common? His eyes are on the cover of their new LP, Midnight Madness And Beyond. Charming. And what does “G.B.H.” stand for? Grievious Bodily Harm. Nice. I was anxiously awaiting my meeting with the band before their show at the Ritz.
SWEET PAIN: THE MOVIE
Anne Leighton
This is the real-life movie of a trash rock 'n' roll band with a hot guitarist. This is Sweet Pain—the brainchild of a mother-lovin’, gutsy, tough guy: Corky Gunn. Flashback: The diaper years ... Corky toddles to the stage, where his uncle Charlie’s band is jamming the hot hits of the day, “Last Time” and “Under My Thumb.”
I TO I WITH BAD BRAINS
Mike Gitter
Chant down Babylon! The Bad Brains unite the spirituality of Rastafarianism with a blazingly destructive mix of hardcore, reggae, metal and even jazz fusion to punch up a musical lightning bolt alternating speedy, grinding metallic whacks with a plethora of melodically soulful reggae licks.
PARIS IN PARADISE
Karen Troupe
When Karl Malden did his commercials for American Express, he must have had Jeff Paris in mind. His is the face you think you recognize but can’t name. He’s co-authored a lot of tunes over the years for people you hum along to on the radio, or play air guitar with in the privacy of your room.
WHITE LION: THERE IS LIFE EVEN AFTER A BROKEN HEART
Anne Leighton
One week in 1983, Mike Tramp and Vito Bratta were hanging out at the rock capital of Brooklyn, L’Amours West, saying, “Let’s start a band.” They mentioned their great idea to the club owner Richard Sanders. He said, “OK, and I’ll manage you,” even though he’d never seen them perform together—because they had never performed together.
SHRIEK ATTACK!
Kris Needs
This was the Big One for New York’s growing gaggle of black-death-thrashspeed metal hordes. Slayer’s latest, Reign In Blood, seemed to imprint every selfrespecting leather in the city with the Slay-star logo. Hair was flying in anticipation.
OZZY OSBOURNE POSTER
Bon Jovi: Neither Pin-Ups Nor Wimps!
Sylvie Simmons
So here they are in England for a tour that sold out in six hours flat. Here’s Alex John Such, doing the U.S. equivalent of the Pope kissing the soil and baring his butt at a gaggle of Northern girls! Here’s a roadie, doling out backstage passes to girls who bare theirs back! Here’s David and Richie and Tico, and here’s Jon, running from some megahormoned harpies who want to rip his clothes off!
THIS IS JOHN PARR SO WHERE’S ELMO?
Harold DeMuir
Suppose you’re a recording artist. You’ve got a major label deal and a highpowered manager. You’ve had two hit singles. Your songs have been featured prominently in three motion pictures. You’ve written material for Roger Daltrey and Meat Loaf.
ANGUS YOUNG POSTER
Cinderella BEFORE THE BALL!
"Look—we're in METAL magazine! Thank God! This gives us a chance to explain to our many fans just how hard it is to be in Cinderella ... and why, in fact, we're being forced to stand in front of this sign as punishment for having a bad attitude. As you readers undoubtedly have guessed, it's all the work of our wicked metal step-bands, who force us to clean out chimneys and carry amps and stuff!