The Black Angel Zine

It’s that time of year again… the season of lists, reckonings, and rear-view mirrors. Every year I swear I won’t write one of these. Every year I’m wrong. Because the bands who bleed in studios and bust their ass on the road deserve every scrap of light they can get. This playing music for a living ain’t for everybody. Nine times out of ten, when you see a band sweating it out in some low-lit club, they’ve been living out of vans for weeks, sometimes months. No real beds. No real meals. Just coffee, gas station burritos, and the endlessness of highways. They miss birthdays. They miss weddings. They miss home. And still, they climb onto those stages and tear the roof off in the name of Rock N’ Roll, so fools like me can show up, press a record into my hands, grab a patch or a shirt, and shake the hands of the people who remind me that I’m still alive. And that’s the tragedy: live music is becoming a dying art in the small scenes. Clubs are closing their doors. The dirty little rooms where your soul got rewired by feedback and fury are disappearing one by one. This year, my list reflects all of that. Not by design, but by instinct. This isn’t politics. This isn’t favors. This is my truth. These albums grabbed me by the throat, slammed me against the wall, and made me jump, shout, sweat, and believe. Nobody asked for placement. Nobody got special treatment. This was built from whatever rattled my heart and shook my cage the hardest. I’d be dead wrong if I didn’t give thanks to the people behind the curtains, the firms, the reps, and my small but savage team of brothers who went to war alongside me this year, and to my website manager, Josh, who kept it between the ditches when it got crazy. Lastly, to my darling wife, Renee’, who continuously gives me the space, and the grace needed to write and listen to so much music. I couldn’t do any of this without you, your love and support are the catalysts to everything I do, wrong or right. You are the reason… So… without further ado, here’s our list of the Top Ten/Twenty Albums of the Year, and some well-deserved honorable mentions. BLACK ANGEL'S TOP TEN 10. Atomic Witch – Death Etiquette (Redefining Darkness Records) Thrash metal steeped in Horror, rot, filth, and decay. This is NSFW, NSFL, and definitely not for tourists. Lifers only. No apologies. No survivors. 9. L.A. Guns – Leopard Skin (Cleopatra Records) The Hollywood vampires keep stalking the overcrowded streets of L.A., making all the old heads feel immortal and dangerous again. I wasn’t cool enough to land a review copy, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t make my list. No grudges here, just respect where it’s due. 8. Savage Master – Dark & Dangerous (Shadow Kingdom Records) This one didn’t click on the first swing, but after a few spins it caught fire and never let go. Now it lingers like a beautiful, haunting afterglow. Caught them live in ATL and they proved it the hard way, one of the best bands working today. Long live Stacey Savage and her henchmen! 7. Demented Are Go – Psychotic Mutilation (Sunny Bastards Records) Whoever is responsible for keeping Sparky upright and breathing deserves a standing ovation and a blood offering. This record was worth every agonizing second of the wait. It feels damned good to have a fresh DAG slab in my filthy hands. Psychobilly has been dragged deep underground, but the kings have returned and they’re still swinging blades. 6. Rotgut – 24oz Cantrip (Self-Released) A disgusting, glorious throwback to when Thrash and Horror ruled the gutters. You can smell the blood, rust, and rot leaking from this thing before you even press play. I swear I needed a tetanus shot after reviewing it. A violent wall of sound from this Pac-West three-piece. I’m begging for a follow-up and something physical that isn’t just a cassette - vinyl, CD, hell, carved in bone, the world needs this noise. 5. Sölicitör – Enemy in Mirrors (Gates of Hell Records) This band wasn’t even on my radar until this record hit me like a brick wrapped in barbed wire. After one listen, I panic-bought their entire vinyl catalog, including this gem. Pure early ‘80s Speed Metal filth - grit, power, and blades-out shredding. And the vocalist doesn’t sing - she hunts, stalks, and kills. No mercy. No tears. Only steel. 4. Sanhedrin – Heat Lightning (Metal Blade Records) Another female-fronted powerhouse trio that does not miss. Their sophomore effort for Metal Blade is built for lifers - denim, leather, and Metal pumping through your arteries. This one’s been in weekly rotation since it dropped, and it hasn’t lost a single tooth. This is American Metal history being written in real time. 3. NITE – Cult of the Serpent Sun (Season of Mist Records) This one was an accident that turned into an obsession. I wasn’t even supposed to review it, the guy who had it passed because it “wasn’t his thing.” Good. It became mine. At first, the vocals live in that snarling, Satyricon-adjacent space, but the real hook is the music, and before you know it, you're snarling right along. This isn’t what they advertised. This is twin-guitar sorcery, razor-sharp songwriting, and disgusting-level musicianship. Imagine Thin Lizzy or Iron Maiden reborn with Black Metal venom in their veins. I beat this record to death all year. Caught them live on their first East Coast run and they were lethal and humble in equal measures. Snagged their first two records at the show, and those are mandatory listening too. Nothing but love for the dudes in NITE. 2. Helstar – The Devil’s Masquerade (Massacre Records) This was one of the biggest surprises of the year for me. The album hit hard on the very first spin, and I had it pre-ordered before the dust even settled. After all these years, Helstar have delivered something that stands shoulder-to-shoulder with their classic era, and that isn’t nostalgia talking, that’s fact. I’m always on the hunt for releases that drag me back to my childhood, that resurrect that old feeling you can’t fake, and this record has it in spades. It’s been a daily spin since it landed in my hands, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. Helstar are still carrying the banner for real American Thrash Metal, and I’ll be standing under that flag until the lights go out. 1. Mean Mistreater – Do Or Die (Dying Victims Productions) This stamped itself as number one the second it hit my inbox. From the very first spin, nothing else even got close. These Texas maniacs are everything that’s right with Metal - lifelong road dogs grinding it out night after night, loading in, loading out, and murdering every crowd in their path. No gimmicks. No bullshit. No distractions. Just loud guitars, reckless riffs, and faces melting in real time. If you worship old-school Metal, your search ends here. Mean Mistreater aren’t chasing the crown — they’re coming to take it. And if the next release is anywhere near as savage as their last two, it’s over. Honorable Mentions~ Bronco – Self-Titled (Magnetic Eye Records). Pagan Altar – Never Quite Dead (Dying Victims Productions). Bashful Billy – Late For An Early Grave (A Corpse With No Name). Denial Of Life – Witness The Power (Creator-Destructor Records). Pentagram – Lightning In A Bottle (Heavy Psych Recordings) Hot Shot – We’ll Be Right Back EP (Self-Released) Cradle Of Filth - The Screaming of the Valkyries (Napalm Records) Stoned Jesus – Songs To Sun (Season Of Mist Records) Testament – Para Bellum (Nuclear Blast Records) The Unsatisfied - Real Gone Pale Face Reissue (Self-Released)

Can 2025 just fucking stop already? Ozzy and David Roach of Junkyard were more than enough heartbreak, and now, Ace fuckin’ Frehley has left us. What a hole he leaves behind. This one hits on a different level. KISS wasn’t just another band to me as kid, it was life. My childhood was painted in greasepaint and guitar solos. I can still see the flashes of those album covers, “Love Gun” and “Rock and Roll Over”, my original vinyl copies, worn and weathered, but still spinning strong. My Ace solo record, though, that poor thing is wrecked due to overuse. I played the absolute dog shit out of it. It was always my favorite. Ace and Peter were always my guys, sorry, Cam McHargue . I know My mom made sure I had every KISS record and tape she could get her hands on. That was more than enough to light a lifelong fire. “Shock Me” and “Talk To Me” still send chills down my spine. And then came Frehley’s Comet. That debut hit like a meteor, loud, defiant, and full of space dust and swagger. When “Rock Soldiers” kicked in, I felt like I was part of something, a brotherhood of misfits who didn’t just listen to Rock; we lived it. I still call myself one of them, though I’ve prefer the title “Rock Warrior.” Meeting Cam McHargue way back when, lit a fire of KISS love for a few years too – they his favorite band, next to W.A.S.P. of course. That dude talked about them like they were long lost friends. We had HOURS of conversations that would never fucking end about which albums were the best and which ACE solos were better. I’m not going to talk about how Ace should’ve had more songs in KISS, that ship sailed long ago. The reasons were their own, and the circus carried on. But let’s be honest, KISS has mocked themselves to death. And I’m sure Gene and Paul will find a way to disrespect Ace even in death. This though, this is the real end of an era. There will never be another time when we see the true band, the real spirit, take the stage again. And I don’t care who’s reading this, Tommy Thayer wearing Ace’s makeup has always been a disgrace. You can’t imitate soul. You can copy the look, the licks, even the smoke from the guitar, but you can’t fake that cosmic magic. Ace was danger. He was mystery. He was the heart of KISS’s wild side. He made being an outsider feel like belonging. That was his real power, beyond the solos, beyond the image. Ace gave the weird kids, the dreamers, the Rockers who never quite fit anywhere, a home amongst the stars. He told us it was okay to be loud, to be strange, to be ourselves. So yeah, this one hurts. Another legend is gone. Another light in the galaxy has gone dim. But every time that Les Paul screams through the speakers, every time “Shock Me” rips through the night, he’s still there, floating somewhere above us, six strings closer to heaven. Long live the Space Man. The one. The only. ACE FUCKIN’ FREHLEY

I always say that 1987 was the most important year for music in my life, but the more I look back, the more I realize 1989 had just as much to say. I was coming of age, past puberty, into rebellion, and already applying for the job of Captain Trouble. Of course, no 13 or 14-year-old could be legit trouble without the right soundtrack, or the right amount of booze and chemical inspiration, but that's a whole different confession. And 1989… it came armed with the soundtrack I needed, delivered with divine timing, especially that summer. May gave us the self-titled debut from Texas hellraisers Dangerous Toys, and June gave us Junkyard, by way of California but carrying Texas grit in their pockets. Two albums. Just two. But those records came to define me, not just as a music fan, but as a drummer, and frankly, as a human being. I’ve lived those lyrics on purpose, some by accident. I drank too much, took too much, laughed too loud, fought too often, and loved the chaos too dearly to see it happening. But from those albums came something deeper. A mantra. A war cry. A piece of soul carved into vinyl. Junkyard’s “Simple Man” wasn’t just a song, it was scripture. It still is. The lyrics spoke in a language I hadn’t heard before but somehow always understood. The groove and approach were what I now call Southern Sleaze, a term I live by. To this day, if someone says, “Hey man, this sounds like Southern Sleaze,” I’ll damn near break my neck to give it a listen. That song, it is me. I’m the guy they sing about, on purpose, with pride. My socials even quote it “Don’t throw your pennies in the wishing well, cause what you get is what you see.” My wife will agree with this sentiment too although it took her several years to come around to accepting it, now she appreciates that about me. That line has followed me since ’89, like a shadow and a shield. I’ve listened to more music than I can count, written my fair share too, but “Simple Man” still stands tall as the one. The gold standard. My personal gospel. Junkyard never stopped. Not really. They were Rock Warriors, scarred and shining, and I followed them through it all, lineup changes, label switches, indie releases, tour rumors, all of it. The internet helped, and later, so did social media. I got to befriend a few of the band members, and more importantly, I found other lifers, fans who loved this band as deeply as I did. Some of those people are now among the most beautiful souls I’ve ever met. As for the band, I only ever really chatted with vocalist, David Roach, and even that was minimal. I didn’t want to fanboy too hard or come off like some kid still begging for an autograph. I’ve always been that way - respectful. These people are human. You don’t treat them like trading cards or living statues. I’d drop into his DMs now and then, check in, ask about new music or tours. Quiet admiration. Still, I've never seen Junkyard live. That’s a damn crime in my book. They were part of the Monsters of Rock Cruise scene for a while, but I never went. Too expensive. Too surreal. Too many fans mistaking proximity for entitlement, hovering around their heroes like flies at a barbecue. That’s not me. I don’t need selfies while they’re eating. They know we love them. You’re on the fucking boat with them, let the man drink his juice in peace. That’s my opinion though, it’s not law, it’s just my 2 pennies. Then came the news that cut deep. A few years ago, maybe not even that long, David announced he was battling cancer. I backed off immediately. That’s the time for space and dignity, not inbox clutter. I gave what I could to the GoFundMes, I sent strength through silence and followed updates from his wife, who posted daily, even when things got rough. Especially then. And now… he’s gone. Yesterday. Maybe the day before. Time doesn’t matter when grief shows up, it just is. A wife lost her husband. A child lost their father. A band lost its frontman. And we, the musical misfits, the lifers, the dirtbags with hearts of gold, lost one of the truest voices to ever rise from the Texas heat. David Roach was a lifer. And he was that Simple Man. There’s not a damn thing more admirable than that. I’m crushed once more. This is another voice of my youth falling silent. Another soul who taught me how to survive, how to feel, and how to keep it real, even when life turns savage. When I can’t find the words, I put on “Simple Man” and let David speak for me. I dive back into Junkyard’s catalog like a lifeboat, looking for comfort, for clarity, for that edge of truth I can’t express alone. He had the pulse. He had the guts. And even when the spotlight dimmed and the hairs turned grey, he never strayed. You don’t live through something like the ‘80s and just walk away from it. Unless, of course, you never really meant it. David meant it. Every damn word. Denim vest, heart on sleeve, middle finger ready. A man’s man. A poetic bruiser. A straight-shooting, no-bullshit saint in Sleaze. And now, gone. But we have the records. We have memories. We have the lines tattooed across our souls. And we’ll carry him with us until the wheels fall off this motherfucker. R.I.P. David Roach Thank you for showing a wild Georgia kid that it’s okay to be simple, to be raw, to be real. And to never, ever, take shit from anyone.

Talk to us about this era of the band – the members, the recording of the album etc. Paint a picture for the OG fans of what it felt like to be in the studio laying down tracks like “44 Caliber”? It was amazing. Most of the time I was a walking drunk then, but I drank wine, you know? “Alcoholic Haze” on that record. I sang that in the studio half drunk. Michael Johnson from the band Catera produced the album. They were sort of like Mother's Finest. We had Smooth, their backing vocalist, sang amazing on “Damn Saint,” and their keyboardist, Chavez, did some work on “Boney Fingers Of Truth,” “Loose Screw,” and “Damn Saint.” But yeah, being in there during that time, man, and being in the studio, being in there recording “.44 Caliber,” it was a vision of just, you know, being a gunslinger or something. Sort of like a Stephen King book, you know, it felt like I was a gunslinger of other dimensions. And then I’d have visions of the Son of Sam murders, you know, and I'd go deep in imagination and a lot of it was dark, you know, a lot of dark and haunted imagery, and I loved every haunted minute of it. We recorded it in Ringgold, GA at Michael Johnson’s place, Ultrasound Studio. But doing that during that time was wonderful and it felt good. I was on top of my game during that time. We started recording that record in ’98 with Tony Byers but ended up re-recording the whole thing with Dave Schenk. Do you have a favorite track off the album and why? My favorite track from the album, “Alcoholic Haze.” I love the whole record, but “Alcoholic Haze.” I did my crying solo like Lux Interior on it, and I loved doing the crying solo, but that was where I was at, you know, and I mean it was getting me ready to quit alcohol, quit drinking. We were having a ball. I'd get drunk on the weekends, you know, like I’d be working all week and then come Friday I'd be drunk. I’d get to Johnny’s, they’d throw me in the back of the hearse with the equipment, like I was a piece of equipment, and then we’d go to a show. I'd be drunk at the show, and we had a ball, it wasn’t a big deal. But then everything started becoming a problem because I couldn't even go to Best Buy without being drunk. I couldn't hang out with my friends without being drunk. I wanted to enhance it in some way, and it seemed like that my whole damn life was becoming, you know, a freaking drunk joke. I couldn't just enjoy myself without trying to get drunk. “Alcoholic Haze” told the truth. And there's a lot of songs like that. The first song on the record is a part of that, Pretty Weird, Huh? It's part of that whole trip, you know, the whole thing was about being too messed up to even have people come over. I mean, it’d become a problem, and recording the album itself I was drunk, you know, so Real Gone Pale Face was probably as close to self-destruction as I could get, and it was the truth, you know? I was a “real gone pale face and that’s no illusion…I’m never, ever, ever gonna drink again…” Also, can you share with us what formats the album will be released in – CD, Vinyl, Cassette? Please share/plug everything about the reissue so our readers know where they can get it if they can’t make the show. I'm gonna let Lysa roll it down for you. LS – RGPF will be available on CD and eerie green 12” vinyl in limited numbers and you can get one at the Halloween Resurrection Show on Oct 31 st at Songbird’s. The CD's we may reissue one more time, but the 12” will be in the limited number of 100 on the green vinyl. If you come out to the release show to get one, they will be available at a discounted rate, and you can get them signed for free. We will even have collector sleeves available at the live show, so you don’t have to feel bad about taking your record out of the plastic for signing. If you can't make it to the Halloween Resurrection Show at Songbird’s to pick one up on the release date, we will make any remaining copies available through our website at: theunsatisfied.com on the merch and discography pages Nov 1 st . I know it’s been years since the album was originally released, but were there any cuts that didn’t make the album? If so, have they been released on anything else or are they still lingering in limbo waiting to be unleashed? They're probably a few songs that we were doing during that time period that that didn't make it. I can't remember off the top of my head, but Johnny would remember that stuff. For most part, that whole album was the set list that we were running by at the time. You know, that was probably pretty accurate on that. As far as any extra songs there might have been a couple. There might have been some songs that made it to Seven Inch Rock Scar that we were doing during the Real Gone Pale Face era that waited until we got to the next album. While we’re talking about Unsatisfied albums, please share where your physical albums can be purchased. Tell us what you have available physically, I’m sure there are a few good people out there that would like to have an Unsatisfied Record or CD! That’s a Lysa question, she’s the go-to on what we’ve got and where to get it. LS – We currently have Street Shaman on CD and 12” black vinyl. We also have Songs the Belt Taught Us on CD and on limited edition autographed CD. These are available at live shows and on our website at: theunsatisfied.com , just check the merch and discography pages. Or feel free to email me at: theunsatisfied2020@gmail and just ask, and I will put together an invoice for you through there 😊 This last option works best if you are buying multiple copies or combinations. Real Gone Pale Face will also be available this way after Nov 1 st . If you would like to hear samples of the songs, check out the discography and EPK pages of the website at: theunsatisfied.com

Several weeks ago, Tracy had the opportunity to sit down with Victor Elian, guitarist and vocalist of the Brazilian Death Metal band Escarnium. In their conversation, Elian offered insight into the group’s current projects, the state of the underground metal scene in Brazil, and what lies ahead for the band. Known for their uncompromising sound and relentless energy, Escarnium continues to carve out a place for themselves on the global stage, and Elian’s perspective sheds light on both the challenges and the passion that drive the band forward. Can you give us a brief history of how and when Escarnium came to be? Escarnium started taking shape in 2008/2009. I already had a handful of song ideas and finally began giving them real life after I left Impetuous Rage in late 2007—not the friendliest split, let’s say. From there we pulled friends in, rehearsed anywhere we could, and by 2010 we were playing shows and putting out demos. You guys are from Salvador, Brazil. What’s the metal scene like there? Salvador’s scene is often overlooked—even by locals—but it’s vibrant. Classic names like Headhunter DC, Mystifier and Malefactor paved the way, and killer new bands such as Devouring keep popping up. We have committed promoters, zinesters and distros; everything a healthy scene needs. Sure, we’re outside the Rio/São Paulo/Belo Horizonte axis, so the city sometimes gets forgotten, but to us Salvador (and Bahia as a whole) is still the best place in the world to play. For the new album, did you have many of the songs prepared before you recorded? If so, was there a lot of collaboration and adding ideas to them once you were in the studio? Yeah—drafts of several tracks were around as far back as 2019. COVID and an old-label mess delayed things, but that also gave us freedom to refine every riff. In 2022 we proudly released the EP Dysthymia ; many riffs on the new record were written in that same creative burst, so the EP now feels like a clear harbinger rather than a stopgap. Pre-production opened the floodgates, and once we hit Walzwerk Studio, Sergej (who runs it) kept pushing fresh ideas. His talent and instinct really elevated the final songs. This is your fourth full-length overall. How has the band’s sound evolved since you formed, and what’s the biggest evolution you notice on this album specifically? The core is still dark, straightforward death metal, but we’ve let our influences roam more freely—crust, punk, grind, black metal, even jazz or soul. Experience in the studio taught us that sometimes a two-note riff can crush harder than a thousand-note sweep. To me the new album is a natural step beyond Interitus : same raw violence, sharper dynamics, deeper atmosphere. Nothing reinventing the wheel—just 100 % Escarnium, honed. Being signed to Everlasting Spew Records, what is your relationship like with them? Fantastic. They’re transparent, supportive and genuinely care about underground extreme music—no shady moves (we’ve had enough of those elsewhere). We’d wanted to work with them for a while; once our deal with Testimony finally ended, Thomas Haywood at Redefining Darkness (our U.S. partner) connected the dots and Everlasting Spew welcomed us instantly. Grazie to both labels.

A few days ago, it was announced that Jason McMaster, Paul Lidel, Jack Pyers, David Beeson, and Mark McLain would be releasing a new EP under the banner of HOT SHOT. If you're a little long in the tooth or just have an insatiable appetite for Rock N' Roll, you already know these guys are straight-up Rock royalty, having played major roles in bands like Dangerous Toys, Dirty Looks, Broken Teeth, and Sacred Reich. Naturally, The Rev. and I were all over it. We immediately reached out to cover the EP and lined up an interview with Jason himself. We wanted to keep the spotlight squarely on HOT SHOT so we and the rest of the world could get the full scoop. The Rev. took the reins on the interview. His questions were spot-on, so I didn’t mess with a thing. Sometimes you just let greatness speak for itself.  So, grab yourself a strong drink and dig in, this is one you won’t want to miss.

There’s no better omen than a Friday the 13th to hit the road in search of noise, danger, and sweaty communion, and that’s exactly what my comrade-in-debauchery and I did. Destination, Boggs Social & Supply, Atlanta, Georgia. A venue I’d never set foot in before but now consider hallowed ground. Boggs is a dive bar reimagined, not some sticky-floored hellhole, but a joint that lures you in with killer food, cheap drinks, and a staff that actually gives a damn. The place gets it. It breathes in neon, exhales soul. I’ll be back, over and over again like a sinner to the confessional. This night kicked off the Savage Master and NITE tour, and from the jump, there was that unshakable buzz in the air, the kind that says you’re about to be baptized in riffs and fury. For NITE, it was their first taste of the East Coast, a long-overdue collision between coasts. And for me, it was my first time finally seeing Savage Master live after years of near misses. Chariots Overdrive, a local Atlanta act I’d never heard of, opened the gates and didn’t just warm up the stage they lit that Sombitch on fire. Their sound is a snarling cocktail of early ‘80s Speed Metal and NWOBHM sweat and swagger. Like Angel Witch and Exciter had a nasty little one-night stand. The real kicker, a Heavy Load cover, thrown down like a gauntlet, raw and righteous. I didn’t see any merch at the show, but I hunted them down online and bought their downloads which is something I hardly ever do. If you’ve got blood in your veins and denim on your back, go find them. Now.

April 3, 2025 I’ve been a major Cancerslug fan for over 20 years and I was always disappointed that I never got to see them live. Now, I’ve seen them live twice in the past couple of years. I wouldn’t be upset if this trend continues. Please keep coming to this cesspool that is Florida!

This lineup could rival any other three death or thrash metal bands anyone could put together. Admittedly, I am not the biggest Possessed fan, but respect the hell out of them for their contributions to the genre and was really interested in seeing them perform. I had my earplugs in, but took those mother fuckers out when they took the stage to take in all the blasphemous hymns! Their set was short and sweet (about seven or eight songs) and when they played "Tribulation" I was amped because that's one of my favorite tracks from 'Beyond the Gates' and they killed it! My biggest issue with their performance is that while Jeff gave everything in his vocal performance, it came across as a little subdued. The instruments drowned his efforts a bit which is rather unfortunate. And I know this is super trivial, but their bassist did not move from his position on stage at all. It was almost like his feet were glued to the floor and it was a bit distracting. The fact that your lead singer moves around more and he's in a wheelchair speaks volumes.