Napalm Flesh: Merry Metalmas!

Posted December 22, 2011 in
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Illustration: Ricky Vigil

This week, we are re-running "Twas the Night Before Metalmas"—Bryer Wharton's take on the classic holiday poem "Twas the Night Before Christmas." We also have a few events to read about, and a link to a podcast starring our metal writers. Curl up with a cup of coffee (black, of course), throw on some Slayer, and get ready to take in some holiday cheer from your metal friends at Napalm Flesh.

Last Monday's episode of Soundwaves From the Underground, SLUG Mag's official podcast, featured the entire Napalm Flesh crew discussing some of their favorite metal releases of 2011. Check it out for spirited discussions about Pulling Teeth, War Hungry, Immolation, Protest The Hero, Uncle Acid & The Deadbeats, Thou, and even more stuff guaranteed to blow your bush back. You can listen to the episode here.

On Friday December 23rd, Burt's Tiki Lounge hosts the return of INVDRS. Also on the bill are the recently reunited Draize Method as well as Digna Y Rebelde and Year of the Wolf. You can't beat that bill for $5. The show starts at 9 and Burt's is a 21+ venue.

Looking ahead to next Friday, December 30th, Carol's Cove II hosts Kiss Thiss, Utah's finest Kiss cover band. They're performing with Wanted Man, a tribute to Ratt. Doors open at 7:00 and the $8 gets you through the door, and you must be 21+ to attend.

On Saturday the 31st, Carol's Cove II keeps the cover bands coming with Fuck Like a Beast, a tribute to WASP. Also on the bill are Heartbreak Hangover, who I'm pretty sure are not a tribute band. This show is also $8 and starts at 7:00 as long as you are 21 or older.

Without further ado, here is Bryer Wharton's "The Night Before Metalmas."

Twas the night before Metalmas, when all through Burt’s Tiki

Not a creature was stirring, not even a zombie;

The steel toed boots were hung by the bar without care

In hopes that Satan soon would be there;


The kids were all passed out drunk in their threads,

While visions of pentagrams moshed in their heads;

My wife in her bullet belt, and I in my metal studded leather vest,

Had just settled down for a long brutal rest,


When out in the parking lot there arose such a blast beat,

I sprang from the pit to see what was the hell shook my seat.

Away to the window I jumped with my drum sticks,

I went back to the stage and grabbed the nearest kit.


The cold moon on the breast of the new-fallen ice

Gave the grimness of the time on my electronic device,

When, what to my bloodshot eyes should appear,

But a hearse, with demonic goats that made me drop my beer,


With a beastly old driver, so menacing and dreadful,

I knew in a moment it must be the devil.

More rapid than Slayer’s Reign in Blood his demons they came,

And he growled, and shrieked, and called them by name:


"Now, Danzig! now, Dio! now, Perversor and Venom!

On, Coroner! on Corpsegrinder! on, Demonaz and Blitzkrieg!

To the top of the stage! To hell you will fall!

Now slash away! Slash away! Slash away all!"


So up to the club-top the demonic goats they flew,

With the hearse full of weapons, and Satan too.


And then, a wizzing, I heard on the roof

The stomping and scratching of each evil hoof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the bar Satan came with a hell-hound.


He was dressed all in leather, from his horns to his boot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with blood and brute;

A bundle of knives he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a roadie just opening his pack.


His eyes – how black! His dimples how deep!

His cheeks were like rotted flesh, the sight made me weep!

His drooling fat mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as black as a crow;


The stump of a joint he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled like a black Christmas wreath;

He had a disturbed face and a huge round gut,

That shook, when he cackled, God what a nut!


He was ripe and reeking, a wrong pissed off old beast,

And I cowered when I saw him, while my fear increased;

A grimace on his face and a spin of his axe, a riff he did shred,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;


He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the boots; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his fingers in the sign of the devil,

And giving a head bang, out he went in a drizzle;


He sprang to his hearse, to his team of psycho’s gave a howl,

And away they all flew with a hoot and a growl.

But I heard him shout, ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Metalmas to all, and to all a good-fight."

Happy Holidays from Napalm Flesh!

Illustration: Ricky Vigil