Commander of Fate

What would the World or life be like if we didn't celebrate the classics every now and then? Speaking for myself, I'd be constantly suffering from future shock - I haven't owned a phone since the last millenium - so that's why I believe a little "mise en page", not to mention grade A propulsion (or propping up), is called for in regards to Germany's one-off classic heavy metal gem by Black Fate, Commander of Fate, released on vinyl as well as cassette in 1986 (the year 8-bit NES mania took over the countryside) before re-appearing, re-mastered, albeit on limited CD, in 2017 under Karthago Records.

Firstly, I love the grotty and dank, swamped-the-frig out, modular-like level of production and mixing, which sees the battery propped up like a squashed fly on the wall, hammering out stoic and statically charged, evilly pulsing bass lines compounded by a most squat and lumbering, workman-like drumming ethos. The stridently raw, fluidly crunchy guitars motor on as if running for their lives from the scythe-wielding Reaper itself, like they do on "Champagne", a bone-rattling, cork-popping nail biter and heart stopper wrapped into one. That said, some of the longer, more divergent and tangential numbers take the listener on an insouciantly pummeling road(kill) trip akin to following a map fraught with queer dimensions, in addition to scurrilous misleading exit ramps veering straight into crystal-clear 80s styled heavy rock reminiscent of UFO and The Headpins. A great example consists of the willowy, mid-tempo billow-er "Child of Hell", throughout which, imbued as it is with dreamy, starry-eyed keys, easily brings to mind Sab's Dio stand-out, "Heaven And Hell". (Its late escalating bridge and gang-shouted denouement placidly leads us to rumble on the Maiden-esque, yet still throttling-as-F, "Wild In the Streets" - "Wild auf den Straßen", eh?)

Front skeletor Michael Hüttemann's warmly inflected mid-range and concise vocals inject a bit of lugubriously affable Sean Harris meets Dave Wall (Desolation Angels) chutzpah into the proceedings, whilst the boxy, prattle-some drum beats and fills effectively partake in a similarly locked-in and (bop) steady stride, the kind our neighbors only secretly bang out to when we're not looking.

The album's first half proper - that is, first four tracks, discounting a couple of innocuously paralleling bonus tracks - rocks hard enough but, holy cow, is the next ever rich in tonal variations, including more of Hüttemann's slick, feel-good chanting - the kind, in fact, which instils fond, ever-so-youthful early 80s recollections of chilling out with my older European cousins while Nena's '83 radio-hit "99 Luftballons" belts forth out of the stereo with all of its cathartic, albeit poppy, splendor (hey, we were kids once, remember?!). This is especially true of my top Commander of Fate pick, the all-out fist-pumping and raw, naturally harmonic-sized "Warchild", as it stirs itself up in a loosey-goosey frenzy of foot-stomping, pedal to the metal acceleration - Attentat Rock style, for instance - prior to taking off, duly out of sight with one of the album's few bona fide refrains, and an intensely memorable or unforgettable one at that. Sean Harris-like "Yeaah-aah-ah!"s pepper this one with lithesome, liberating grace, a terrific counter-point to its rough n' ready (sl)eazy street rhythm, along with a lavishly pumped wind-down valedictory solo and cruising return to hard/pile-driving form.

"Frozen Heart", too, despite encroaching itself on the plaster like a crow's foot print on drying cement, stands tall and proud, particularly for a power ballad of the sort, as it unequivocally ratchets up the sizzle and flare at a most stout and incremental, unwavering, steady pace - thus, until the silk gloves come off and the fisticuffs ensue by way of a mellifluously crooned, if not satisfactorily heart-rendering and nostalgic, envoy (reminiscent, say, of the Eagles' "Hotel California), succeeded, as well as topped, only by the twin ax men's languidly unfolding/super expressive lead foray, backed is it by a decidedly riveting backing guitar riff, rhythm section drop-out, and eventual rumbling and thumping "battery overload". The snazzy, 1950s-evoking, Chuck B. soloing midway in definitely thaws out the ole ticker after so many minutes of glacial, instrumentally clean meandering.

Bookended as it by a swiftly accessible opener in "Heaven Can Wait" - Iron Maiden can eat it - and goomba-stomping heady rouser/AOR-ish, gang yawped, anthemic celebrator in "Midnight" (introduced by a short, befitting "Prelude"), Commander of Fate is certainly one for the (w)ages. Hell, as stated, even the extracurricular add-ons, "Hello America" and "Hot And Pretty", notably the former, with its wonkily engaging Billy Gibbons patterned lead, retain replay value as well thanks to their fare share of celeritously galloping, traveling chops. Once again, a rare chorus on "Hello America" wastes no time imprinting itself on the psyche. Plus, with such killer cover art, how could one not make a judicious pit-stop for Black Fate's Commander of Fate? Truly, this is a one-time wonder in every, best possible sense of the word. Glean or circle back to it when(ever) you can!

While many of their fellow German bands were churning out a rougher brand of heavy metal in the mid 80s, Black Fate was putting much less of a Teutonic twist on the sort of music British groups like Iron Maiden and Saxon had pioneered. This short-lived act's sole full-length album is a work strongly informed by the new wave of British heavy metal and classic rock with results ranging from good to thoroughly meh-inducing.

Things start out fairly well, with two decent numbers kicking the album off. 'Heaven Can Wait' and 'Champagne' are both engaging and loaded with scorching riffwork. These rhythms aren't especially memorable but they're fun enough in the moment to make them worth revisiting. The main thing that holds these songs, and almost every other song on the album, back, is a lack of choruses that stick with the listener.

The next song, 'Child of Hell', despite being among the softest and most subdued pieces here, is actually the strongest offering. This song defies the album's prohibition on catchy choruses, which gives it a sort of staying power the others don't have. 'Wild in the Streets' is good too, boasting Commander of Fate's other memorable chorus, but is hard to give a whole lot of credit to because its opening riff, which is heard a few other times throughout the song, is stolen from '2 Minutes to Midnight'. These krauts changed at least a few of the notes but the rhythm and tempo are obviously the same. This was probably intended as an homage but 'Wild in the Streets', by returning to the riff several times, is too dependent on it to not sound like plagiarism.

The rest of the songs are quite adept at foiling the listener's attempts to remember them. The only notable one, 'Frozen Heart' is a dull ballad that gives way to a raging metal assault three fourths of the way through, but by that point it's too late. We've already listened to about four and a half minutes of what's essentially soft rock and the reward at the end just isn't sweet enough to justify the uneventful buildup.

This album has a number of competent performances and ideas but nothing about it truly stands out, especially when compared to seminal albums by the likes of Maiden, Priest, and Raven. Michael Hüttemann's vocals have the exact character a NWOBHM-inspired band needs, though they don't have much range. At the conclusion of numerous passages, he'll try to end on a dramatic high note, just like Bruce Dickinson would, but can't quite produce the sort of contrast needed for these moments to truly shine. The production, meanwhile, makes everything else sound soggy and distant, especially the drums, which hammer out extremely basic patterns that have about as much power as a lame duck president. The different performances, while none of them are truly extraordinary, join forces to create songs that, for the most part, are decently entertaining but incapable of leaving a lasting impression on listeners.

While there are a few good tracks here, the sad truth is that none of them are exemplary. This album is a student of the NWOBHM content to maintain a C average.

This album doesn't sound much like a 1986 release, or German for that matter. It sounds most like a 1983 NWOBHM album, with a touch of Sinner thrown in for good measure. Not quite as overtly 80s-cheesy as Sinner, and chock full of power metal riffs, this album just sums up what HEAVY FUCKING METAL is all about. The closest comparison I can think of is actually the first Ossian (Hungary) LP, but this one is somewhat more NWOBHMish. But at some places the guitar tone is identical, and the vocals aren't that far off either.

Lots of shrieky soloes, a vocalist that really belts it out, a nice rhythm tone, and of course completely memorable songwriting... these guys totally borrowed a page from the Diamond Head songwriting book. Throwing in the occasional random melodic part (see the pre-chorus of "Heaven Can Wait") without sounding completely fucking silly, and the occasional upbeat borderline speed metal moment ("Champagne").

Highlights... surprisingly, the two bonus tracks are excellent. They are not quite as well-produced as the rest of the album, and I believe they are demos or something, given that slightly muffled sound. Still, both songs are excellent. "Hello America" is an epic number, and "Hot and Pretty" is just as silly as it sounds, but overall very well done. Imagine something from the second Crue album, as played by Running Wild listening to Sweet Savage.

The ultimate highlight, though... Warchild. Total NWOBHM chorus - I swear, the vocalist was imported from Britain, as he's got that style completely nailed. Midnight is also extremely well done. Just about everything here has a completely memorable chorus, including the balled "Frozen Heart", which explodes into speed metal about 3/4 of the way through, just after a very well done midpaced solo.

So is this album groundbreaking? Not especially. Does it come sucking in with the power of a thousand Opeths? Mercifully, no. This is just plain METAL, and don't expect to be anally perplexed by bizarro breakdowns or endless drum-oriented passages. Just turn it up so your neighbours can hear it too.