Violence Is Golden

“…I give you after a thousand year wait…Gargoyle!”

The earliest Gargoyle shrieked this eight-tracker from the side of a building somewhere in lovely (no) Elizabeth, New Jersey, a band that, unbeknownst to me at the time of this demo’s ripening, housed the then-current boyfriend (one of the guitarists, I think) of an older cousin that I saw maybe once or twice a year at some holiday ritual or a picnic. Considering that, I probably should’ve owned a copy of this around the time of its early ’86 release, but by the time this insider info sprung from a nearby Thanksgiving bird, their relationship was already flushed down the shitter and a copy of it I never got, not until a few years later while browsing through a box of cassettes at some now-plowed over flea market located in the general vicinity of the tape’s birthplace.

Listen to me, sounding all stiff and serious like I'm gearing up to describe a lost gem that should’ve engulfed the Earth the moment its first dub was slapped into a plastic case, but that’s not Violence is Golden at all.

This is a funny demo that borders on being comical at times, ‘cos after the limply-announced ‘Ready boys? This is a take.’, then an inhaled, grater-voiced intro (that’s partially the lyrical blurb above) over a minor backlit explosion, "Blessed is He" just kinda wings its feral inhibition into that vast vat of cheese that’s always within kicking distance of any metal release, label-backed or not, and it takes all of twelve seconds to sink this entire demo into the thing. But isn’t that part of the allure? Oh yeah.

With the fromage scraped away, Gargoyle thrash with the bright-eyed resolve of ’85 and the anxiety that dwelt within a bunch of kids still in awe of a blooming style that was busy keeping their lips frothed while their heads twisted completely around like Regan MacNeil. Like most early thrash, the mechanics of Violence is Golden are quite simple. We’ve got an overloud percussive fuel cell in Otto Skidmark (a name I’ve proudly stolen on certain occasions), a guy with a sticky flow valve that sometimes works, though most of the time he just wants to unleash the uncomplicated line of rubber he’s name for.

There’re two lead guitars that don’t really compliment one another, but don’t confuse the issue, either. Riffs are well within the radar of simplicity, are quite catchy, are actually somewhat memorable as they cut a path with warped and jagged Exacto knife riffage, and why is it acts like Executioner and Napalm can’t seem to find contagiously undemanding barrages of notes like these without a forest ranger leading the way?

Vocals screech across tracks “Burning Marrow", "Mayhemic Destruction" and “Thy Savior’s Blood” (which, along with "Gargoyle", were featured in different renditions on the band's earlier Unleashed demo) with some less-maniacal and shrilly debut-era Sadus-isms, meanwhile above the trees you’ll find a few, um, chest-level high notes floating with toddler-balance abandon, but these quirks are what make(s) (me grin at) this demo. Then like injury’s insult, the whole she-bang is wrapped in a fly wing-thin mix that does nothing to throw needed warmth on a project that’s simultaneously homespun, sincere, gauche and nasty, kinda like the west coast version of Necrophagia with even less stuffiness.

I can’t say listening to this thing isn’t like curling up with a good, tacky book you’ve read a dozen times, knowing each plot device around every corner and not caring that there’s better stuff on your shelf still unread, and at the right rare moment I can enjoy this more than any other album. Hell, I even request “Burning Marrow” at the bar every now and again to the dismay of the girls wanting to shake it to some inane club chowder. Piggyback it with Black Death’s “Scream of the Iron Messiah” and watch the denizens flee to the outdoors for a smoke whether they want one or not. Fuck 'em.

Fun fact #86.9q: just missed the cut for New Renaissance’s Satan's Revenge II compilation and probably could've replaced either Angkor Wat or Severe Warning, respectfully of course.

Fun fact #4: your name was thrown into a hat if you could decipher the backward message at the start of the title track. As the lucky chosen, your prize would’ve been the sole copy in existence of a promotional vinyl copy of the ep, likely an unlabeled acetate. It kills me that I actually had the inside track on this and missed out. I wonder if the prize ever existed.