Witchmaster

Trücizna

Wiz Witch, the Satanic cheesesteak | Ibex Moon

If the patches on a metal hesher’s jacket came to life and formed a band, the result might be Witchmaster. You could guess what those patches are by looking at this album cover. Pentagram? Check. Row of bullets? Check. Trio of naked ladies with heads that are half skulls and half gas masks? Check. One lady has a syringe for a forearm. Another has pubic stubble peeking above her belt. I love attention to detail.

Speaking of scraggly patches, the big one on the back here is German thrash—Destruction or Kreator, probably. The thrash is blackened, so maybe there’s an Aura Noir or Deströyer 666 one below it. For sure there’s an old-school Sepultura logo patch; “Troops of Doom” gets a spirited tribute here. Add a beer gut, some hair loss and a Motörhead shirt, and you’re set. The Motörhead shirt is key. This record will have you thrashing like a maniac, but the real fun comes in the form of straight-up, Lemmy-approved rock. As Bart Simpson once said, “Good ol’ rock. Nothin’ beats that!”

These guys are sort of ringers in that they’re all in other bands. (Vader’s current bassist is a member.) Witchmaster is probably just a project for them to blow off steam. But, man, it’s a gas. I don’t remember a single song on this record, but I have a great time each time I hear it. Dating comes to mind. Dumb yet hot and fun—admit it, you’re tempted.

—Cosmo Lee

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