Battle of Metal

"Baaaht taaahl oooooof Meeeht taaahl! Mawino! Sehuahl! Huway Scuwray! Rayas!"

Surrounded by deafening cheers, an Asian-looking Bruce Buffer climbs outta the ring to grab his paycheck. Sonically-hungry and uncommonly co-ed is a sea of brunettes that hold up crudely-drawn band logos on large slabs of oak tag and white tapestries adorned with a large red circle. Jeez, judging by this turn out I’d swear The Scorpions were in town, yet it seems all this hubbub is for a handful of acts with little to no recognition. Is it me or does this seem screwy? Then again, what the hell do I know? I’m from New Jersey.

I’ve never really developed taste buds for Pacific Rim metal. I give it this term because over the years other countries beside Japan naturally developed their own scenes and became part of this musical territory. Yes, I’m aware these bands are all from Japan. Okay fine, I’ll tell ya why I mention this tidbit. It goes back to the chagrin I felt when metal acts from Europe who were from outside England were haphazardly thrown into the NWOBHM catch-all sweepstakes, which happened more than you know. Now I’m not one of these politically correct assholes by a longshot, but I do like to keep this kind of shit straight.

Getting back to my initial point, a reason my far east flavor never gallivanted too far beyond General Tso’s chicken is a) there wasn’t exactly an excess of metal bands calling this area home base, and b) even less of them were treated to any exposure, decent or otherwise, here in the States. For example, in the ten or so years separating 1980 and 1990, we’re talkin’ about the formation of approximately two hundred Japanese metal bands. Almost matching that total were British bands, but they accomplished it in the four years connecting 1980 and 1984. By '84, which Japanese bands were stateside for us to get excited about? Loudness. Bow Wow if an album was deliberately shoved in our faces. Then there was…uhh…um – yeah. I don’t know how we managed to contain ourselves.

Now then, who to root for? This thing’s still a battle last time I checked. One peek at the roster and we may as well be looking at the ambiguous names race horses go by. The cover…I dunno, looks like someone enlarged Motley Crue’s Too Fast for Love using a copier on its last legs, superimposed the disc’s black n’ gray logo over it so it was suitably camouflaged in its larger blob of black n’ whites, and I guess it was thought the bands’ color logos near the bottom would make things okay. Like in untold times past, we queasily meander to a cash register manned by an employee who doesn’t bother hiding her bewilderment as to why we’re buying this garbage.

But when we get home and Marino’s “Impact” jumpstarts the room with a stomp of the 'ol gas pedal, the prospect that this gathering could actually scale up to a pretty decent party doesn't seem like a distant hope after all. Despite the tune having been born way back on their ’79 Revel Night demo, kicking off this ten-tracker with its rebirth (reborn x2 on a same year debut) of early, but modernized hard-knockin’ Vardis and More zeal proves to be a really hot stroke of common sense. Marino’s follow-ups to this, “High Flying” and “Shake Down”, are hit and miss. Make that miss and hit, ‘cos next is the shyly-rockin’, dainty soft shoe of “Flying High” that crash lands more or less with a Van Halen impersonation with totally wrong guys, however the foursome swing the party back on track when another newly-glossed babe from ’79, the volatile and supra-metallically enthusiastic “Shake Down”, immediately screeches any departing guests to a halt with metal addiction that’s even stronger than “Impact”.

Optimism, even with its currently optimum level, twinges with slight nausea as soon as the name ‘Sexual’ whips out its lipstick, however when the up-tempo and compositionally social “Rock Tonight” smiles at the crowd, some admittedly smile back. “Whiskey Roller” dilutes this good cheer as yer average mid-level rocker that I’d like to show to the front lawn, and besides the tracks featured here, it seems these guys have no other proof of being.

Depending on the femininity caked on, I’ve sometimes found it difficult distinguishing Japanese musicians as men or women, and cake it on is what Rajas do. Making it even trickier is a vocalist who sounds like civilized Doro with less of a scream penchant. The quintet’s music, as told by “Angel”, “Shock”, and “Take My Heart”, is usually straightforward lite metal that’s often lite on dazzle, the exception being the catchier buoyancy of “Shock” with some dual guitars and a rhythm beefed with double bass. Little surprise springs when “Take my Heart” is one of them slow beat, pseudo-heartfelt quasi-ballads that, while showing capacity for range, didn’t need to kill five minutes of wax here. Opposingly, it confirms vocalist Kuniko Morikawa is stylistically best here and ultimately tips my favor his way as the most proficient and on-point mouth. Put it all together and the puzzle’s picture could resemble ‘metal queen’ Lee Aaron.

That’s not to say Yasutsugu Morioka, Hurry Scuary’s own well-to-do crooner, is blown away in this respect, ‘cos while he sounds decidedly more like a guy with a strong alto-tenor command, the light he sheds in his band’s songs is a little less revealing compared to Morikawa. Musically, Hurry Scuary and Rajas share commonalities in composition, mood, and final trajectory, meaning the personalities of “Rock n’ Roll Parade” and “It’s Just a Radio”, the band’s first recordings that remain exclusive to this collection, could prove interchangeable with Raja’s “Angel” and “Take My Heart”; well-meant, commercially-viable vibes dressed for the mainstream, a big place both bands have sights on.

Not much of a battle for our party guests, I’m afraid. I, of course, have a clear winner in mind that I’m now etching into my bedpost. But before the winner is unveiled, let’s explore less selfish thoughts on this wax. Those in the market for something safe, narrow, and rather spark-free that’s only a few sunglasses shy of professional and mainstream marketability shouldn’t have been turned off by the majority of this. Elsewhere, partiers drinking happily to the hairier stuff got pretty dry after Marino split, and no doubt followed suit themselves, probably while cursing side two’s final rotations. While there’s a chance I woulda stuck it out for most of the ride, before flying the coop I’d have nailed a copy of both Marino bare fists and “Shock”, and while the car’s warmin’ up, throw “Rock Tonight” on there as well.

In addition to a fanbase that is legendary the world over for being huge and rabid for bands big and small (the point bumblingly being made in the corny, friend-of-the-delete-key opening paragraph), it’s also celebrated for the universal virtuosity of its musicians as well as unusually upscale demands for production values. Certainly not least, the Pacific Rim scene is renowned for its domestic releases known to us way over here as imports, which nine times outta ten are chock full of bonus tracks, killer booklets, or both. Even Battle of Metal supplies us with an inner fold-out of lyrics, band info, and a full page report on the Kansai H.M. Movement. Can’t read a word of it, but pictures are nice, too.

I was gonna do the whole review in Japanese-broken English, but I probably would’ve killed myself.

Oh yeah. Marino wins.