Vim Fuego In these times when so much of metal is diluted and tainted by outside influences, it is refreshing to find a metal band playing metal influenced by metal, the whole metal and nothing but the metal. All the emo/folk/prog/’core/next-lame-bastardisation-of-metal can fuck right off. That music isn’t metal. Usurper knew what metal was, and anyone who argues is looking for a clip round the ear with a big spiky club

Usurper’s ‘Cryptobeast’ is unashamedly filled to the eyeballs with metal cliché after metal cliché. But hey, a cliché is only a bad thing if you’re no good at it. You will never forget the names of these songs, because all the titles are chanted in the chorus except obviously the instrumental “Ectoplasm”. The lyrics are all about mythical beasts (nasty ones like werewolves mind you, there’s no unicorns or fairies here) and the supernatural. There’s even a metallic call to arms called “Kill For Metal”, for which Manowar would gladly trade two golden codpieces, an enchanted warhammer of doom, and a free pass to Valhalla.

First and foremost though, before anyone gets carried away with the spikes, studs, leather and long hair, Usurper are consummate musicians. To a man, each is a master of his craft, and there are no weaknesses anywhere in this band. The sound is gut-wrenchingly heavy and muscular, while surprisingly agile, but without compromise. Vocalist Tyrantor, new to the band when ‘Cryptobeast’ was recorded, had a guttural shout which strayed toward a death grunt at times, but generally remained in the realm of aggressive thrash.

It would be wrong to label this album retro-thrash, as it has been in some quarters. If thrash had kept evolving in the early 1990s instead of limply surrendering to the mainstream, this is what it would sound like. Imagine a world where Metallica’s self-titled album did not exist, where Dave Mustaine had remained permanently fucked up on heroin, where Sepultura had decided tribal music was crap, where Exhorder didn’t get ripped off and watered down by Pantera. This is Usurper’s world. This is a world where fists can be raised high (complete with compulsory studded leather wristbands) while chanting “Kill, kill, kill/Kill kill kill/For metal” without any trace of embarrassment or irony.

The other obvious highlight besides “Kill For Metal” is “Return Of The Werewolf”, complete with a roared chorus, solos (not too overindulgent) exactly where they should be, and machinegun blast percussion. “Conquest Of The Grotesque” and the title track also follow a very similar formula, but without becoming formulaic. There is little which is subtle about this album, apart from the atmospheric “Ectoplasm”, but who needs subtlety when there’s mindless violence to enjoy?

If you’re looking for something ground breaking, try something by Dream Theater, if you think you can stay awake through it. For bludgeoning Metal which recalls the good old days, but without being stuck in a time warp, you’ll find none better than Usurper.