Review Summary: It’s fast, it’s fun and it sure as hell isn’t for everyone. But it’s not supposed to be.
Few bands receive as much admiration in the extreme metal scene as Sweden’s Bathory and it’s pretty easy to see why. With a string of genre-defining albums in the mid to late 80s, the mysterious outfit managed to make an almost mythical name for themselves in the thriving underground metal movement. Their releases ranged from 1988’s ‘Blood Fire Death’s apocalyptic thrash assault to the relatively more low-key and obscure murk of 1985’s ‘The Return…’. While the band’s mastermind and sole permanent member Quorthon would eventually become better known for his forays into Viking-influenced metal (almost carelessly spawning another entire subgenre in the process), there are countless acolytes who will always rather choose to stare into the black flame whose first embers could be seen on the band's self-titled debut, released October 1984.
It wouldn’t be disingenuous to say that the record’s cover is one of the more iconic images in metal. It’s stark, simple, stripped back – an aesthetic that’s reflected in the blistering 27 minutes of mayhem contained within. No matter where you look, whether it’s during the breakneck blitz of ‘War’ or the more mid-pace groove of ‘Raise the Dead’, there are absolutely no frills to be found here. Guitars like buzzsaws carve their way through a muddy mix of stomping bass and drums with Quorthon choking out throaty blasphemies over the top of all of it. To call the production lo-fi would be rather an understatement. But, in the context of creating the perfect album to go on a coke-fuelled odyssey of destruction to, it manages to work pretty well. Imagine Motorhead and Discharge showing up wasted at Venom’s rehearsal space, placing a Dictaphone in the centre of the room and just recording whatever came out.
The standout track is ‘Sacrifice’, an absolute belter that’s like dropping rocket fuel into a bumper car – you just have to get in and hang on for dear life. Starting with a totally speeded-out intro and verse before it shoots into the stratosphere in its glorious ascending chorus, the song typifies what this album does so well: straight up, dirty, metal. Other highlights include the chugging grind of the aforementioned ‘Raise the Dead’, complete with some eerie atmospherics and an almost - dare I say it? - catchy hook, or the familiar runaway madness of ‘Armageddon’. There’s no doubt that Bathory had achieved what they had set out to do on the earlier Scandinavian Metal Madness, a hodge-podge release of demos with even lower production values. Namely, to present the world with a vision uniquely dark and vital, without a care for what the arbiters of good taste would deem worthy.
It’s not all moonbeams and black roses though, because amidst the raw elementality of ‘Bathory’, there is also an undeniable amount of repetition that mars the album’s longevity. Repetition within songs can be a great way of creating atmosphere, but the amount of repitition on show here between songs can come across as, at best, uninspired and, at worst, lazy. Although ‘Sacrifice’ is a personal favourite, it doesn’t differ in any meaningful way from other cuts like the opener ‘Hades’. And that’s the story with the rest of the tracks too. With little exception, once you've heard the first few songs from this album, you’ve got an essentially clear view of what the rest of it will be like. If you don’t dig the impenetrable walls of static hiss and barely audible drums by then, you probably shouldn’t hold out for the Swedes to turn you round. Move on buddy, this ride’s not for you.
Taken as is, you could be forgiven for listening to 'Bathory' and wondering why it’s considered so important. It’s a style that’s clearly been anticipated by better-known antecedents, such as Venom and Motorhead mentioned before. But, if considered in context with the rest of the band’s output, as well as with extreme metal as a whole, its significance becomes clear. Bathory’s debut is but the first step down a bleak and nihilistic road that came to its ultimate destination in 1987 with the release of 'Under the Sign of the Black Mark', widely considered the band's landmark release and progenitor of legions of explorers of outer darkness. Seen against that backdrop, it's easier to appreciate this record's abrasive charm. It’s fast, it’s fun and it sure as hell isn’t for everyone. But it’s not supposed to be.
