... but I stopped. Now I'm a dad, and may blog again...

Friday, March 16, 2012

546: Return of the Warlord

Song of the day:
Manowar, Return of the Warlord

"Time to burn, you losers better learn
No one controls our goddamn lives,
We do just what we feel,
riding horses made of steel,
We're here to burn up the night"

I remember when this was new. My friend would tape Headbangers' Ball of MTV and then we'd watch it 'round at my house. It was presented by some random blonde. I think it might still be on now, but its probably crap what with all this lame ass pussy pop-metal that all the kids, with safety pins in their school ties, are bopping to. Back then metal was Pantera, Metallica, Sepultura; it was Judas Priest, Iron Maiden. It was Napalm Death, Cannibal Corpse, Anal Cunt. All the greats. And suddenly it was Manowar, a band I had never heard of; get with the 90s grandad. We had giddy fits of laughter at this unbelievably cheesy video; bikes, big-titted blonde bimbos, leather, shooting pool, counting dollar bills on saddles, and pointing. Lots of pointing. He's pointing at you, ha ha ha, we'd laugh and tease each other. No, he's not, fuck off. He's pointing at you.

Fifteen years later and I'm still rocking the Manowar. They're like a good version of Led Zepplin, without all the shitty bongo bits and meaningless hippy-drippy soundscapes. Led Zepplin suck, sorry people, it's true. Anyway, why am I going on about Led Zepplin? (I bet in ten years time I'll be writing a blog about how I've just discovered how great Led Zepplin are. I used to hate The Who, and you know what? Now, I don't think they are too bad. I digress.)

DEATH TO FALSE METAL is the phrase so associated with Manowar, emblazoning their album covers and peppering their lyrics like themes and sword wounds. DEATH TO FALSE METAL. Say it loud, I'm metal and I'm proud. If Manowar wrote national anthems we would all be nationalists. Warriors of the World United should be the national anthem for a United Earth to help stir the blood in defence of this great planet against the attacking might of the Moonmen from Mars. With their green skin and their weird facial suckers. And that nasty probiscus thing they've got. And that what-the-hell-is-that hanging between those... leg... things:

We alone are fighting,
for Metal that is true.
We own the right,
to live the fight.
We're here for all of you.
Now swear the blood
upon your steel will never dry.
Stand and fight together,
beneath the battle sky.

Brothers everywhere
Raise your hands into the air.
We're Warriors.
Warriors of the World.

Soon after discovering Manowar, I went to the Market in Lancaster (which used to be great, before idiotic mismanagement killed the decades old trading ground), to the record shop run by the big sullen long-haired old headbanger in the Metallica t-shirt. That guy. He had three 12" records tucked away behind the counter, in his special spot. They were Sign of the Hammer, with it's boring cover art, and Fighting the World and Into Glory Ride, with their magnificently silly macho-barbarian band pictures. Into Glory Ride contains, to this day, my favourite Manowar song, Gloves of Metal. At one point the music stops and singer Eric Adams screams five words which sum up Manowar and 80s Metal better than anything:


"We are the undefeated,
We're not living in the past,
We're here tonight to
Feel the power of the wheel,
Let's drink to riding steel,
-Manowar, Return of the Warlord

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