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Sweet, sweet cheese - 80%

demonomania, March 24th, 2009

What the hell is happening to me? Am I actually… enjoying… Yngwie? What became of all those years spent despising anything that didn’t sound like various zoo animals being tossed live into a meatgrinder? WHAT DA FUCK?

I think I can safely blame Judas Priest’s “Angel of Retribution” and fellow GD staffer Inquisitor Generalis for introducing me to it. AOR turned to “Painkiller” and next thing you know I’m trading some random Eastern European blastbeatfest for “Seventh Son”. And before you ask, I have noticed my estrogen levels rising, thank you very much. Just wish these damn hot flashes would stop.

So “Seventh Sign” is power metal to the max. So powerful, your biceps will harden just by looking at the cover. So '80s, your cock will grow long teased locks and sport an earring and denim jacket when you touch the CD. So cheesy, any food item in front of you will be coated in a thick layer of Munster when you hit play. It was recorded in 1994, but we all know the early '90s were just a (hair) extension of the '80s anyway.

And, Jeebus help me, this album rocks out big time. We all know Yngwie J. Malmsteen (which translates to Hater of Donuts) can play the giy-tar durn good. He’s no slouch at bass, either. And his skill is on display everywhere, oozing out of each abused orifice. Songs end when Yngwie wants them to end. Sure, the rest of the band has played the final chorus, wrapped up their shit, and headed home, but the Malman will throw in one more solo, one more flamenco performance, one more sitar interlude nonetheless. Why? He wants to make sure you know he’s incredible and that each fan gets their money’s worth of Yngreatness. Plus, the nation of Japan formally requested four solos in each song. And when Japan speaks, Yngwie listens.

Guitar aside (ha!), the rest of the band seems to perform their duties appropriately, which mostly involves showing up and not hogging all the hairspray. Take a look at his Metal Archives page if you get a chance – that list of ex-members represents millions of dollars worth of beauty products, thousands of Malmsteen bitch-slappings, and millions of yen in royalties. Anyway, the vocalist Michael Vescera has been in some bands himself and knows how to bust out the high-pitched croon that makes mullets stand on end. Mike Terrana, credited with both drums and triangle, played his heart out on both, but was still probably fired as soon as he laid down the last track. And there’s a dude who plays a small Hammond organ – now that’s insulting.

How does the album sound? Imagine putting Poison, Whitesnake, and Winger in a room. The ceiling opens up and urine rains down upon them. As the fruits in question are trying to save their perms, the ceiling opens again and gasoline pours down. Now really vexed and wondering when they can get a salon appointment, none of the band members notice that slits have opened up in the walls and the nozzles of flame-throwers are poking out. Next thing you know, Yngwie’s standing in a pile of ashes and melted jewelry bending his axe strings all over the place with an orgasmic expression on his face.

That didn't really tell you anything about how the album sounded, did it? What can I say…if you like this type of shit, go out and get it. No use to go into individual tracks – there’s something rad in all of ‘em. “Bad Blood” is probably my favorite. Even the power ballad is fun. If you’re like me and think power metal is teh gay and extreme shit is teh awesome, I dare you to resist the power of “Seventh Sign”. For I have failed.

8 sitars accompanied by triangles and tiny organs out of 10.

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