Attempting to draw any line between heavy metal and proto metal is problematic in the 1970s, and particularly so in the United States. A certain member of Sir Lord Baltimore likes to claim that he “invented heavy metal,” and consequently charges obscene rates for his autograph. I’m afraid the music on Sir Lord Baltimore’s 1970 debut “Kingdom Come” is no more ferocious or melodramatic than what Black Sabbath or Lucifer’s Friend were doing at the time, and it’s certainly shy of the mark that Sabbath would hit just a few months later with “Paranoid.”
Metal had a slower gestation in North America than in Europe. Bands like the aforementioned Sir Lord Baltimore, KISS, Band of Gypsys, Yesterday and Today, Aerosmith, Blue Oyster Cult, and Blue Cheer would toy with raw aggression in the realm of hard rock, but full on metal? That was the province of English and German bands. Americans didn’t get in on the game until the end of the ‘70s.*
So the first band that moved beyond kinda-sorta-not-really metal, and into full blown horror at our post-modern decline would be Riot. Most of New York’s noteworthy rock bands responded to the economic chaos of the ‘70s via punk rock, with its call to find unity among the rubble of the past. Metal, by contrast, rejects the very notion of civilization or collaborative enterprise, asserting the primacy of the individual as either hero, villain, anti-hero, or perhaps even deity beyond notions of morality.
New York City is a fine setting for these roles, and Riot’s first two releases “Rock City” and “Narita” were perhaps halfway between arena rock and heavy metal, but they cut the mark closer than any other band in the States, even closer than what Van Halen would do with their ‘78 debut. The NWOBHM’s downright obsession with Thin Lizzy is already present here, though there’s less of Budgie’s proto-punk bluntness and something closer to Led Zeppelin or Deep Purple with an overdriven boogie blues. We’re not quite in the territory that Judas Priest, Motorhead, or Scorpions were mining at the time, though there is a nastiness surpassing the limits of the top 40 charts. Riot were, as their label would later lament, “commercially unacceptable.” This trend would intensify with their next two albums, culminating in a true point of no return.
But “Fire Down Under” was four years away; a lifetime in music. By ‘78, as Riot were struggling through supporting tours and label difficulties, a pair of other bands were moving further into uncharted territory. However, they were doing this hundreds of literal miles removed from NYC. The first stop is Chicago, with a largely forgotten band named Sorcery. What we get on “Sinister Soldiers” is an album orbiting an entirely different planet. It’s hard to pin down the exact meaning of this debut, but Sorcery have a slight southern rock feel to their playing, and are almost funky.
An affection for Jimi Hendrix might come second-hand through listening to Scorpions, but Sorcery goes further into soul and jazz rock territory, as if they’d been spinning The Allman Brothers. ZZ Top is a fairly common influence for metal bands, but The Allmans? This is something else, perhaps also echoing Chicago blues greats like Magic Sam, Buddy Guy, or Otis Rush. The compositions have quite a bit of breathing room, melodies often feel loose and improvised, and the riffs have a good alternation between clean and distorted passages, with a bottom-end crunch that foretells Manilla Road. One can easily find thick slabs of Black Sabbath rumble on this platter, and maybe even some Budgie or “Sad Wings” era Judas Priest.
Moving yet further west, we find slightly more familiar musical ambitions brewing. Los Angeles had seen a few hard rock bands in the ‘70s, and San Francisco’s Yesterday and Today occasionally flirted with the genre (they would fully hitch their fortunes to the metal’s wagon with the great and underappreciated “Earthshaker” in 1981). The first west coast band to come within spitting distance of heavy metal were probably Alkana.
Moving yet further west, we find slightly more familiar musical ambitions brewing. Los Angeles had seen a few hard rock bands in the ‘70s, and San Francisco’s Yesterday and Today occasionally flirted with the genre (they would fully hitch their fortunes to the metal’s wagon with the great and underappreciated “Earthshaker” in 1981). The first west coast band to come within spitting distance of heavy metal were probably Alkana.
Being the pet project of one Danney Alkana, this band’s one and only album was (much like Sorcery’s debut) done as the sort of self-released vinyl that might be sold out of the back of a station wagon at local shows. “Welcome to My Paradise” occasionally veers into arena rock territory with power pop riffs and big sing-along choruses, but at its heaviest? Numbers like The Tower and Montezuma's Sweet Revenge could sit right at home on any number of British metal albums. I am especially taken with the band’s vocal harmonies and Mr. Alkana’s guitar playing. He can dazzle with technical wizardry, but has the riffs and melodies that allow him to not do so. There is also the restraint to know which is which, meaning the album doesn’t get ahead of itself. It’s a shame this was the band’s only release, though singer Jack Rucker went on to perform vocals in an excellent EP by Los Angeles metal legends Warlord.
Following the untimely demise of Alkana, we return to the east coast in part two, where metal both achieves glorious heights and plumbs the depths of poor taste.
*=And no, I’m not gonna count Rainbow. The Elf members were only on the first album, and they moved to England in order to join Blackmore, who had his name on the goddamned thing as a solo project.
Following the untimely demise of Alkana, we return to the east coast in part two, where metal both achieves glorious heights and plumbs the depths of poor taste.
*=And no, I’m not gonna count Rainbow. The Elf members were only on the first album, and they moved to England in order to join Blackmore, who had his name on the goddamned thing as a solo project.
