This book is a must-have for any fan of horror, or, in particular, Vincent Price. It is full of fabulous stories, some well-told, some less-so, and hadme laughing out loud on several occasions.
'The Price of Fear' is much more than an observation on Price's horror films. It takes us right back to the beginning, with some excellent anecdotes from his live stage plays and love of artwork. Of course, his relationship with horror is well-covered too! Look out for his retort during the filming of 'House of Long Shadows', when a live bat flies into the building and halts the recording!
So, content-wise, this book is lavish. It could have been much longer. I would have liked to have read more about Price's first film with Tim Burton, on 'Vincent', and his appearance on Alice Cooper's excellent 'Welcome to My Nightmare' album. But on the whole, there is lots to love here.
It is the editing that BADLY lets it down. Joel Eisner's love of Price is evident throughout, but the text is rife with all kinds of punctuation errors, literally on every page. Clumsy sentence structure, wrong words ('latest' instead of 'lasted', for instance), opening brackets but not closing them, erratic use (or none use) of commas and italics, and long-drawn-out full synopsis' of every film mentioned...the list goes on. Also, the picture quality on the inside photographs and images is awfully faded, making the book look cheap and scrappily produced, like a ten-year-olds fanzine instead of a credible book condoned by the man himself! Several pages even came loose in the book, enhancing the cheaply-made status of it! The book has been in the making for along time, and while I am sure Eisner and his publishers would have wanted it to be released as soon as possible, it really really REALLY could have done with a few redrafts, and an editor (there is no mention of an editor on the inside page, to my knowledge). Editing is a crucial part of the writing process, and it is the one that lets this book down.
But if you are a Vincent Price fan, ignore all that. It will bug you, irritate you at times, but it does not prevent the enjoyment of what must have been a total labour of love for Eisner. From the excellent and beautiful foreward from Peter Cushing himself, to a final look at the Dr. Phibes films that never were, 'The Price of Fear' is well-worth a purchase. Even if it *did* need an edit!
It's
Saturday night, and the only place for any self-respecting metalhead
or rocker to be is Nottingham's Rock City. May 11th proved
to be a riotous night of singing and headbanging, not just from the
headlining act, either!
Rock City has always been my favourite gig venue. Small enough to
offer an intimate atmosphere between band and fan, but big enough to
give the bands and the fans ample room to play, headbang, mosh,and
drink, it really is the perfect place to let loose. And my word,
Saturday May 11th, there was a hell of a lot of all of the
above – with added monsters...
HOSTILE – Jay Mills (Vocals), Jack Young (Guitar), A.J. Mills
(Guitar), Alex Hill (Bass), Gunga (Drums)
The opening band on tonight's bill was Hostile. A UK band heavily
influenced by Pantera, Hostile are part of KK Downing (ex-Judas
Priest)'s project to bring metal back to the so-called Black Country,
where the genre was born. Not only did he produce their record 'Eve
of Destruction', but he also wrote a song for the band –
'Addiction'. *
The band put on a solid performance, with much shredding and
headbanging. Vocalist Jay Mills prowled the stage like a younger
version of Phil Anselmo, while behind him, Gunga beat the shit of his
drumkit. Although many Lordi fans have a love, perhaps even a
preference, for old-school metal, Hostile had no problem winning over
the Nottingham crowd, and provided the first sing-a-long anthem of
the night, shortly after running through the excellent 'Addiction' –
a well-timed rendition of the Priest classic, 'Breaking The Law'. A
solid performance from a band who I expect to be hearing a lot more
from, very soon...
*On a side note, bassist Alex Hill's dad is Ian Hill, the bassist for
Judas Priest!
KALDEON – Alexe Mele (Lead Guitar), Marco Palazzi (Vocals), Paolo
Lezzioli (bass), Tommy Nemesio (Rhythm Guitar), Massimiliano Santori
(Drums), Daniele Fuligni (Keyboards)
Kaledon, an Italian power metal band, were next on the set. The band
performed as five-piece on this tour, as keyboardist Fuligni wasn't
present. While this might have affected the scope of the show, it
didn't hinder the band in any obvious way. They tore through a
brilliant set, despite a muddy sound at the start, and gave a lively
performance. Although there were a few technical issues, when
Lezzioli's bass broke, the band just made a joke out of it and
soldiered on.
Cut from the same cloth as Stratovarius (and there are some
connections within the band) and Rhapsody, Kaledon's 30-minute set
featured fast-paced, upbeat power metal tunes, providing a nice
contrast to the groups on before and after them. It was a funny,
ripping show that kept the audience entertained, which is no mean
feat! I really hope Kaledon come back around again, maybe on their
own tour, so we can appreciate them in all their glory!
LORDI –
Mr Lordi (Vocals), Ox (Bass), Mana (Drums), Amen (Guitar), Hella
(Keyboard)
Now it was time for the main attraction. After the stage had been set
up, the lights went down, and the immortal KISS song 'God of Thunder'
was blasted out of the speakers. The atmosphere was electric, and it
intensified when KISS morphed into the instrumental tribute to late
drummer Otus: 'Otus' Butcher Clinic'. Lordi had arrived.
After the intro, the band exploded into 'We're Not Bad For The Kids
(We're Worse)', from their latest record, and all hell broke loose.
Seeing Lordi live is an experience that will stay with you forever,
and catching that first glimpse of them on the stage is just
incredible. Ox and Amen gave it hell, while Hella's twitchy
psycho-doll routine added a layer of creepiness to the metallic
shenanigans. The song was held up nicely by Mana's utterly relentless
drum-bashing, and Mr. Lordi himself was on fine form, screaming like
a demon posessed.
New quickly gave way to classic, when the band revisited their
break-through album 'The Arockalypse' for song 2 – 'Bringing Back
The Balls To Rock'. Singing (shouting? Screaming? Roaring?) along to
“Hail in the name of rock and roll!” on a Saturday night with
Lordi is about as perfect as a gig can get. And it had only just
begun!
'The Riff', the main single of 'To Beast or Not to Beast' was very
well-recieved, driven by Hella's catchy keyboard theme, and the
soaring guitar-work of Amen. It must be a great feeling for a band to
hear people singing along to their new material as well as the older
stuff. A sign that they have still got it!
'Who's Your Daddy' and 'Girls Go Chopping' follow, the latter
accompanied by two PVC-clad strippers grinding sparks on stage. And
that was only the start of Lordi's on-stage shenanigans. Their stage
show on this tour was brilliant. We had Ox chopping off the head of a
guy in a cloak, and Mr. Lordi shooting cold smoke at the crowd, or
blasting water from a chainsaw water pistol (yes, really). My
absolute favourite moment was during Hella's solo, though.
She was playing a beautiful tune on the keyboard, and then she would
suddenly start twitching, bashing her hand on the same note over and
over. Being a toy doll, somebody had to come on stage to fix her.
This happened a few times, before the technician actually removed
her head! Even better, while the technician held Hella's head in his
hands, we could see Hella's headless body still playing the keyboard!
It was clearly done with mirrors, but it doesn't matter. It looked
absolutely fabulous, and highlights just how much effort the band put
into their show.
All the band members had their own
solo spots. Amen had a wonderfully creepy guitar solo, with moody
lighting and a big wheel spinning beside him as he shredded. Ox gave
us a groovy and very heavy bass solo, while Mana did a wicked drum
solo that was relentless in its intensity. I can't wait to hear what
he brings to the next Lordi record!
The setlist itself was excellent, a
nice mixture of old and new. 'Blood Red Sandman' was followed by
'Schizo Doll' and the slow, Sabbath-y 'Something Wicked This Way
Comes', before tonight's only ballad, 'It Snows In Hell', echoed
around the hall, as snow-like foam fell from the ceiling.
'I'm The Best' was another new song
brought to life, and Mr. Lordi stole the show when he was given a
bunch of flowers and a tiara to wear. Camp as Christmas, it was a
delight to watch him giving his all as a beauty queen winner as the
band played around him. Hilarious, and fun.
That is the essence of a Lordi show. Fun.
Aggression, headbanging, screaming...and having a bloody good time.
Once 'The Devil Is a Loser' ended the main-set, I realised that the
time has gone nowhere.
The final encore comprised of two
classic Lordi songs, a new song, and a very special treat: 'Hulking
Dynamo'. This song was supposed to be on their first ever record,
which wasn't released to the world until last year, but ended up
being cut. It was included as a bonus track on last year's released,
and is perhaps one of the oldest and rarest Lordi songs the band have
ever performed live.
We
then get 'Hard Rock Hallelujah', the quintessential
Lordi tune, and yet another one that threatened the vocal chords.
'Sincerely With Love' came next, inciting much shouting of “Fuck
you asshole!”. And finally 'Would You Love a Monsterman?', complete
with the PVC-strippers eating fire, and Mr. Lordi shooting confetti
into the crowd.
Saturday
night's show was one of the best gigs I have ever been to. Great
supporting bands, and a flawless set from the main attraction. Lordi
get a lot of criticism in the press, and I just think that if they
all went to see the band live, they'd shut up. Lordi are at the top
of their game right now, and I know that the sky is the limit for
this monster metal band. One day, the legends of shock rock will no
longer be with us. On that tragic day, we will need somebody to step
up and take the mantle. Lordi are absolutely that band.
11/10
*
I was lucky enough to get the chance to interview Lordi's drummer, Mana. You can hear the interview on Tuesday, May 21st, at 7PM UK Time, on Heavier Than Time! See you there!
A brilliant show called
Metal Evolution did an interview with Dave Mustaine, asking the
Megadeth guitarist and vocalist if he still considered his band to be
a 'thrash metal' band. Mustaine's reply was in the affirmative.
Megadeth are a thrash metal band, he said, but we're also so much
more.
The
Thirteen Shots are a horror punk band. But they are so much more.
Rising from the darkness to give the ancient genre of horror punk a
kick up the skeletal backside, their début album, Vaudeville,
gained rave reviews from all corners of the alternative music scene,
including the legend that is Michale Graves (and if you don't know
who he is, leave the hall. Now!).
A
year later, The Thirteen Shots have released their follow-up to the
8-track attack that was Vaudeville,
beautifully titled Tales That Start With a
Whisper.
It's a brilliant album. It's a horror punk album. And it's so much
more...
The
opening track, 'Death Jam 2000', kicks off with hoards of cheering
fans and a grand announcement, before the music kicks off. It's a
seriously catchy song, combining horror punk with 1960's rock and
roll, and dare I say it, the tiniest hint of heavy metal. A
fast-paced rocker that is short in length and directly acknowledges
the band itself – We could be talking 'Death Jam 2000' or 'We Are
Motorhead' here. Izzy's guitar really powers this tune, with a
delicious driving riff. The Thirteen Shots grab you by the balls from
track 1, and they don't let go!
'Zombies
From The USSR' is a bonkers tune, the catchy garage-rock music backed
up with some splendidly silly lyrics. It was a good choice as the
album's big single, and the music video that accompanies it is
brilliant too. Let's face it, we all love zombies, don't we?
'Bewitched'
is a straight-up horror punk song, with a heavy bass sound courtesy
of 'GMT', and frantic drumming from the ever-brilliant Chelsea. The
riff, the chorus, and Johnny Rose's howling vocals invoke classic
Blitzkid, with a nice Thirteen Shots twist, and a haunting dose of
Gothic. 'Bewitched' is definitely a stand-out song for me, and
belongs in any essential horror punk play-list.
'Psycho
Jukebox' kicks things up a notch, returning to the cheeky,
tongue-in-cheek swinging grooves of some of the Thirteen Shots'
earlier work, combing swinging garage-rock, rock and roll, and even a
dose of indie! This song should be played in every horror-punk and
Goth club, at every Halloween party and event, so catchy and upbeat
is it. This is the sound of a band who are having a blast, and you're
invited along to their insane shenanigans! A song to dance to, and
maybe kill to, as well!
'Get
In My Crypt' has a heavy main riff that instantly brings to mine
Graves-era Misfits...and then it all goes crazy. Just when you think
you have a handle on the record, it throws you in a totally different
direction. Heavier than 'Psycho Jukebox', but less melancholy than
'Bewitched', 'Get In My Crypt' is an ode to living it up on the dark
side. Paying tribute to Zombina, Dracula, Zombies and all things that
go bump in the night, this is a battle-cry for Horror Punks
everywhere. The song also has a KILLER guitar solo, and delightful
backing-vocals, and it's a wonder how any band could pack so much
into two minutes and thirty-four seconds. But they pull it off
admirably. Another stand-out track, another one for that 'Essential
Horror Punk Play-List' I was talking about earlier.
'Nekro-Sexual'
is groovy, groovy song. The lyrics are hilarious, and Johnny Rose is
once again on fire here. Riffs, solos, pounding drums, and
bone-shaking bass, 'Nekro-Sexual's cry of “Stomp on my balls!”
will lodge itself into your head, and you will humming the tune for
weeks. This album really does lay it on heavy, all killer, no filler.
Fast songs, slower songs, heavy songs, softer songs, but the variety
really brings it to life. Or un-life. Or [INSERT UN-DEAD PUN HERE].
You know what I mean.
I
have been reviewing this album in track-list order. The final studio
track of the album, 'Tales That Start With A Whisper', is more than
just a beautiful title. The catchy riff (this album is chock-full of
them), the Wednesday 13-esque tongue-in-cheek lyrics, the
fist-pumping chorus...As you listen to the album, you choose a
favourite song. And then you hear another, and you change your mind.
And then you reach the end of the record and hear the title track,
and you realise that the awesomeness never ends. A glorious song
about the state of Vampires today, a serious issue for us proper
horror fans, 'Tales That Start With A Whisper' is simply incredible.
As mentioned earlier, Johnny Rose is letting out his inner Wednesday
13 where the lyrics are concerned (“They're horny old men searching
for a fuck!”), but although the Thirteen Shots' influences are
clear, they have their own identity, an identity that has evolved
through the course of two brilliant albums and endless touring.
'Tales That Start With A Whisper', the song and the album, is a clear
statement of who the Thirteen Shots are. Talented, original, and full
of surprises, and more than capable of creating a record that never
disappoints.
'Tales
The Start With A Whisper' is a must-buy for any serious horror-punk
fan, any metalhead with a love for horror, anyone really who is
looking for a good time. Lyrically fantastic, musically flawless, and
vocally deranged, this is one record you will want to take with you
to the grave. In an age where horror punk has become rather stale and
predictable, the Thirteen Shots have injected new life into this
Frankenstein Monster of a genre.
The
Thirteen Shots are a horror punk band. But my God, they are so much
more!
STANDOUT TRACKS:
- Death Jam 2000
- Bewitched
- Get In My Crypt
- Nekro-Sexual
-Tales That Start With A Whisper
THE BAND:
Johnny Rose – Vocals
Izzy – Guitar/Backing Vocals
GMT – Bass
Chelsea - Drums
FOR FANS OF:
Raizing Hell, The Misfits, Wednesday 13, Astrovamps, Blitzkid, The Creepshow
The
Church hall glistened in the sunlight, golden rays beaming proudly
through the grand arch windows. Assorted guests chattered excitedly
in the polished pews, the only clue to recent catastrophes expressed
by the slightly torn and tattered state of their clothes.
Hurst
stood at the front of the hall before the Reverend and his stand, his
head held high and proud as he gazed out at the clear blue sky.
Reverend Bradshaw admired the man's courage, his bravery, and his
presentation. Apart from a tiny bruise above his left eye, and a hint
of stubble, Hurst looked immaculate. His black suit had neither a
tear or a scuff on it, and the silver ring sitting in the palm of his
right hand was as smooth and pure as the love that it embodied.
And,
perhaps, the loss.
It was
tradition for the best man to hold the ring, but Jake hadn't made it.
In the comforting warmth of the Church Hall, Hurst thought about his
late friend. Despite everything, Jake had made sure Hurst had got the
ring on time, sacrificed everything for the sake of his friends'
happiness. His final act of friendship would never be forgotten.
It was
the absence of Jake, and the distant, constant moans and screams from
outside that reminded everybody in the Church of what was happening
out there in the world. But everything else was perfect. As stupid as
it seemed, Hurst was almost grateful.
His
wandering thoughts died away with the chatter of the guests, as the
great wooden doors creaked open from behind them.
Hursts'
mouth dropped open at the sight of his bride-to-be as she ended the
grand hall. Her dress was as white as snow, undamaged and pure, and
in hiding her feet, it gave the impression that she was gliding down
the aisle. Her blonde hair shone like it was magic, and her beaming
smile defied the faraway sounds of chaos from the world beyond.
As Elena
floated down the aisle, Hurst noted the bouquet of vivid red roses
clutched tightly to her chest. How hard they must have been to find,
with the country as it was. Impossible, and beautiful. His stomach
was a knot of nerves and excitement, and as Elena reached his side,
he noticed her giggling. He realised it was because he was drooling,
and he awkwardly wiped his mouth on his sleeve, turning a shade
redder than the roses she held in her dainty hands.
Reverend
Bradshaw cleared his throat, ready to begin the service. It had been
agreed by everyone that the vows and ceremony would be shortened, so
that everybody could move on as swiftly as possible. As he began, a
wave of relief and genuine happiness washed over Hurst.
“We are
gathered here today, in the sight of God, and in the face of family
and friends, to join together Elena and Hurst in holy matrimony.”
Hurst
took a moment to gaze around at the assembled masses who had managed
to make it. Family and friends, determined to support he and Elena
and maintain the traditional British stiff-upper lip, even if the
world outside had gone to Hell. They'd all been through so much, lost
so much, yet here they were...A tear blossomed in the corner of his
eye, and he turned back to Elena.
The
Reverend continued.
“Do
you, Elena, take Hurst to be your lawful, wedded husband?”
“I do,”
she replied, her emerald eyes flashing with love.
“And do
you, Hurst, take Elena to be your lawful, wedded wife?”
There was
a sudden creaking crash as the heavy church doors burst open again,
tearing up the calm atmosphere. The guests screamed in their pews at
the ungodly sight in the doorway, at the shuffling beast that had
found its' way into the building. The creatures' dead, pupil-less
eyes surveyed the scene around it, two grey arms outstretched as a
rasping groan gurgled out from between a pair of rotting lips.
In a
heartbeat, Hurst whipped out a handgun from the inside pocket of his
suit, and blasted the creature right between the eyes. It fell dead
to the ground, and a pair of men who had been standing by the doors
hurriedly tossed the corpse outside.
After the
ringing blast of the gunshot faded away, the guests broke out into a
round of applause and cheers. Hurst smiled, and stared right back
into the eyes of his beloved.
He
stuffed the gun back into his pocket, and slipped the silver ring
onto one of Elena's soft, beautiful fingers.
“I do,”
he said, the tears in her eyes matching his own, as they embraced.
***
WEDDING TOAST: For Anna and Michael, may you have a magical wedding and a happy, exciting future together! All the best, Cory John Eadson (aka @Evermore_Evil)
JOIN THE Dark Fairy Queen Writerly Bridal Shower HERE:
Rest In Peace, James Herbert. An expert of crafting pulpy horror,
like a British Steven King, with one foot in the gory B-Movie tradition. A
master of the macabre, who many have imitated, but never bettered.
69 is no age to pass away, and so soon after the beautiful drama 'The Secret of Crickley Hall', based on his novel, and the massive success he had with 'Ash'. But James Herbert has left behind a legacy of horror, and he will continue to terrify generations to come.
Readers of Doctor Who Magazine will have no doubt, over the last two months, relished the excellent interview with Jon Pertwee, recorded 18 years ago but never shown in its entirety until now. The final part of the interview concludes with this inspiring message from a man who was a hero to millions. Such a beautiful quote, and so very Jon Pertwee...
"Here is a bit of advice. Don't be afraid to stand out. Don't be afraid to be memorable. Do it by being someone people can depend on, by being profressional, but don't be afraid to be yourself and make your mark. You do not have to conform. Getting a strong reputation and being someone people remember will do you more good - whatever your profession - than anything else. When people you have known or who have worked with move up the industry, them remembering you will do you more favours and provide more opportunities than anything else. Be a good chap - but be a good chap they remember. That is the trick!" Amen, Mr Pertwee. Amen!
Ben: The Doctor always wore this. If you are him it should fit... That settles it!
The Doctor: I'd like to see a butterfly fit into a chrysalis case after it spreads its wings.
Polly: Then you did change.
The Doctor: Life depends on change, and renewal.
William Hartnell played
the First Doctor, from 1963 – 1966. He was an incredible actor,
bringing us a perfect Doctor right at the very beginning of his adventures. In those
mysterious, black and white days, Hartnell created a Doctor
of mystery and intrigue, a fighter of evil, and a man even
capable of falling in love. Every element of each Doctor since
Hartnell was done by him first, whether to a larger or smaller
extent. He set the standard, and was always going to be a tough act
to follow.
When William
Hartnell decided to leave the show, back in 1966, the BBC had a
number of options when replacing him. They could get a Hartnell
look-a-like to carry on the show, or even cast a widely different
actor in the role but still pretend he's the same bloke. Either of
these safe, mundane choices could have cost the show its next 47
years on television. Luckily, cleverly, they did something never
before attempted in a series. They made the change of actor a part
of the shows' mythology! Viewers would see the Doctor physically
change into a different man. Even James Bond could never have done
that (and this was even before the Bond films had changed their
leading man at all)!
The
idea of regeneration, or 'renewal', as it was then termed, was a
brilliant idea, and the perfect 'get-out clause' for a show that
needed to swap its star. But never one to rest on their laurels, the
producers, having changed William Hartnell into newcomer Patrick
Troughton, decided to leave the audience in some doubt over the new
chap for a while. A brave, daring choice that added new spice to a
show that had been on air for 3 years already.
*
Part
one of 'Power of the Daleks' is terrifying. Alien, claustrophobic,
mysterious. A hot planet with mercury swamps, murderous humans
double-crossing each other, and a deadly capsule containing the
dreaded Daleks.
But
the scariest thing about this story, the first episode in particular,
is Patrick Troughton in his début adventure. Once he has taken over
from Hartnell, his Doctor starts to act a bit oddly (what we now
refer to as 'post-regenerative trauma'). But more than that, he's
dangerous with it. The fiendish laugh Troughton gives near the
episodes' beginning is absolutely terrifying, and that, combined with
his choosing to speak of 'the Doctor' in third person, almost leads
the audience to think that maybe some evil alien imposter has
hijacked the Doctor's body....
In
his first ever episode, the Second Doctor also gets his trusty
recorder. Now seen as a whimsical, Troughton-esque quirk, in 'Power
of the Daleks', its presence is almost chilling. Although 'Power...'
no longer exists on film, the images conjured up by the audio track
of this strange new man dancing around the TARDIS, playing his
instrument, are disturbing, child-like and sinister. Perhaps the
audio-only aspect adds to the atmosphere of this unusual piper –
strutting about like a jester from the Devil's Court. The undertones
are subtle, though, quietly sowing seeds of doubt and fear, unlike
the blatant insanity of the misjudged 'The Twin Dilemma'.
Once
the Doctor leaves the TARDIS to explore, however, the sinister
elements slowly fade from his character; the old, Hartnell heroism
slowly taking over. From rushing to the aid of a man who has just
been shot, to giving his companion Ben a reassuring wink, we soon
start to feel a bit safer around this renewed man.
Polly
warms to the Doctor faster than Ben, who finds the lack of
information on the Doctors' change of appearance (not to mention his
constant tooting on the recorder) massively frustrating. But the
stubbornness is just a front. The game-playing and silliness are just
façades Troughtons' Doctor hides behind, and they quickly crumble
away once his fear begins to creep through. His fear when stumbling
upon his mortal enemies...
As
Part 1 draws to a close, the audience starts to warm toward this new
Doctor, accept him. What better way to cement his status as the new
Doctor, then, than have him come face-to-face with his oldest and
deadliest enemies? And even more so, to have the Daleks recognise
him?
'Power
of the Daleks' is an amazing story, with a game-changing first
episode. Throughout the six-part adventure, Patrick Troughton gave us
a glimpse of the many facets of his Doctor's character – the
whimsical child, the cosmic hobo, the dark manipulator, the fighter
of evil – and these would develop over the next three years, before
becoming staples of many future Doctors.
By
refusing to go down the obvious route, Patrick Troughton not only
gave us a brilliant and influential Doctor, but he also gave our
beloved show immortality. William Hartnell was excellent, of course,
but without the concept of regeneration, the series could not have
continued. And the regeneration would have counted for nothing, if
the right man hadn't been chosen to continue where William Hartnell
left off.
50
years of Doctor Who. We owe it all to Patrick Troughton.
