The Opening Ritüal

“…now you will know your reason here. Mine is Lucifer, destructor, abductor of your soul…”

With sights on the darker perception of life, this Wolverhampton four-piece whose aliases personalized the elements (i.e. air, water , etc.) may or may not have directly lifted their name from the title of LaVey’s official bulletin for the Church of Satan, not that I ever bothered to research the connection. Despite their coolly widow-peaked moniker and title, it’s the least about this ep people had to worry about as they walked toward the checkout counter. The band members themselves linger in a D&D state of mind (for instance, Fire a.k.a. Steve Rounds’ habitat was the Stygian Netherworld, fancied himself Fire Demon, guarded the south, and held the sword as his symbol – ‘nuff said) and their ‘futuristic’ attire looks like it was stolen from a last-day-of-sale costume shop. But hey, if people could look upon Twisted Sister and Manowar with cash in hand, then anything’s possible.

Musically, The Opening Ritual is rightfully cemented in ’82, its sound firmly between the fairly new car smell of ‘81 and the tired yet encouraged woes of ’84. Predictably full of Euro flavor, these four tracks save “Back in the U.S.A.” maintain the rational driving acumen this style is known for. Rob “Water” Hendrich’s pipes strafe the boundary of clean and crude, being fairly normal but often bubble over the surface with an unkind distress that’s probably the grittiest, non-lyric thing about this ep.

“The Gates of Gehenna”, while one of their more accessible tracks that would roll up in more confident wheels on the debut full-lengther, produces an unorthodox rhythmic banter that conjures a strange roughshod fluency, a choppy, jarring gait battered into submission by drummer Kevin “Earth” Pountney and his multi-armed display that is the main hammer to the song’s anvil. As well, it’s the only song lyrically spouting occult damnation that their name and title imply oh so lovably. “Stormrider” gets back to basics as a virulent purveyor to the style, meanwhile oddly-named “Starship Sentinel” is more experimental, built on a flow that’s simultaneously quiet and commanding, melodic and rather dramatic with a keen harmonized chorus that strengthens periods of creamy-voiced and lightly-strummed melancholy that seems to tip-toe in from the outside.

The only sore spot is the (almost) American-sounding “Back in the U.S.A.”, an anthem of sorts that should’ve remained across the ocean with its late ‘70s/early ‘80s Status Quo meets Thin Lizzy-style boogie pomp and moaning Kiss-like backing vocal tragedy.

Independently released on Elemental, The Opening Ritual is now a minor collectible, a cool little piece of devil-flared metal that wasn’t gusting down the barriers of the time, but had a blackened heart in the right place.