So. THE BLOOD OF HEROES. By THE BLOOD OF HEROES. Both times in caps-lock Billy Mays mode. None of this lower-case crap. That just wouldn’t suit THE BLOOD OF HEROES. I imagine by the time this review goes online it’ll be in bold as well. Which is as it should be.
So who, or what, is or are THE BLOOD OF HEROES? What they are is the easy one to answer succinctly. They’re fucking brutal. As for the who, they’re the mighty Justin Broadrick, with Bill Laswell, Enduser, Dr Israel, Submerged, Balazs Pandi, KJ Sawka and M Gregor Filip. Now, at this point it would be customary for me to go off on one about my hetero man-crush on the delightful Mr Broadrick, purveyor of all things noisy and crunchy that can be done with guitars. But it’s not about him. It’s not even about Laswell, or Dr Israel, or any of the awesomely hefty army that is THE BLOOD OF HEROES.
No. It’s all about Rutger Hauer.
Not the enigmatic and a bit cheeky Rutger Hauer of Guinness advert fame (though there’s a fair bit of enigmatic cheekiness here among the carnage), no, the scary Rutger Hauer of The Hitcher. The scary futuristic Rutger Hauer of Blade Runner. And, most of all, the scary and futuristic Rutger Hauer of the movie THE BLOOD OF HEROES, perhaps better known to many of us as Salute To The Jugger. Yup, the Rutger Hauer who was really good at the game with the dog’s skull back in the 80s in that film with Josie Packard off Twin Peaks in it. It’s all about him. Fuck yeah. Now THAT’s what I’m talking about. A movie I haven’t seen in about twenty years, but now feel the urge to track down again.
Although this isn’t, in my opinion, a suitable soundtrack for that film.
Do you want to know what this is a suitable soundtrack for? If so, keep reading. If not, then… well, don’t, I guess. It’s up to you. Nobody’s making you read this. And it’s not like you paid to read it, so you can stop any time without feeling bad. But I’d suggest you read on, because what this is, in my opinion, a suitable soundtrack for is nothing short of FUCKING AWESOME.
OK. It’s a Sunday morning. You’re lying in bed, just chilling, planning your day ahead, but with very little sense of urgency. Someone wholesome’s on Desert Island Discs – you know, someone like Pam Ayres, or maybe Stephen Fry. Or Hugh Laurie; he often gets neglected these days on this side of the pond. Anyway, I’m just setting the scene here. Birds are tweeting, all is right with the world.
Then BAM! Half your wall disappears. You’re thrown across the room in a shower of bricks and plaster. Fearing terrorists, you struggle to remember the advice in that dumb-ass government leaflet on what to do if terrorists blow you up. But it’s too late. A second shock hits, and this time the cause becomes apparent. A giant metal fist, about the height of an eleven-year-old and twice as terrifying, has punched its way through your building. It’s got a chainsaw on it. It’s got a flamethrower on it. It’s covered in guns, and decorated with the skulls of Witchman and Zan Lyons, and is clutching a massive bass speaker with which it proceeds to demolish your entire street. Just for the lulz. Just because it can. And- get this- all the while the speakers are pumping out everything from drum’n’bass to dubstep to just dub. Really fucking loud. Then, as you lie trembling in the rubble, it steps away, and you can see it for what it really is- a giant mecha. Being piloted by Rutger Hauer himself. And- get this- you look a bit closer, and he’s PLAYING GUITAR. Then you die of awesome.
Or maybe it’s more like that episode of Gurren-Lagann where the titular mecha punches right through the fabric of space-time. Only with Rutger Hauer piloting it instead of a little kid.
Something as awesome as that, anyway.
But what’s really important, apart from just how awesome this album is, is that Broadrick and the gang have managed to do the impossible. They have managed to create an album that would frighten Rutger Hauer at his most frightening. I really hope he takes it well, for their sake. Because I am quite prepared to believe that he actually DOES own a big fuck-off stompy robot.
So yeah, it’s safe to say I kind of liked it, really.
-Deuteronemu 90210, who now wishes Rutger Hauer was in a live-action remake of Gurren-Lagann–
