Metallic Euphoria: When The Metal Vocal Hit Gets Happy
…
If we started the week with Warrior, we should end with him, too.
31 seconds into “Tree of Suffocating Souls,” the opening dirge on Triptykon’s Melana Chasmata, Thomas Gabriel Fischer releases the ‘OOGH!’ For a certain subset of epicus dorkus, that get-ready grunt is the equivalent of a junkie feeling the prick of a needle. It pokes a Pavlovian grin upon your lips. The rush of absolute escapism swings low and scoops you up. Everything righteous in the world is reaffirmed. You know it’ll all be okay from that point forward. Perhaps better than okay depending on your feverish fervor. Indeed, if you’re fanatical about heavy elements, it’s some straight Zardoz-esque stuff. The ‘OOGH!’ is all. All hail the ‘OOGH!’[1]
Of course, the Temple of ‘OOGH!’ is well congregated.[2] Believers abound. For instance, if the school of hard knocks 86’ed your admission, you could reach out to the unlikely-accredited Tom G Warrior School of Death Grunting.[3] Then, if you’re in need of a quick fix, “Tom G Warrior ‘death grunt’ appreciation society tribute video” curates all of the ‘HEY!’s like a stoner Library of Congress worker. If specificity is more your pace, Christopher Krovatin cataloged his Top 6 ‘UNGH’s for Revolver, pitting those gut utterances against Tomas Lindberg’s green flag ‘GO!’ Finally, even our esteemed ex-editor, Mr. Moore, has been seen taking a seat for ‘OOGH!’ service, providing the framework for this extension. “The Metal Vocal Hit” runs through a greater number of phlegm producers then any morning subway car.
So, given all of this devotion, you’d figure someone would’ve asked Warrior for the ‘OOGH!’ origin story.[4] The closest one can dig up, without perma-blackening fingers via xeroxed zine Cousteau-ing, is this Steel for Brains interview where Tom notes The Beatles’ “Helter Skelter” as a personal Big Bang. Macca, O.G. death grunter? Hey, it’s feasible. It certainly pushes the carbon date back farther than one would expect. Previously, you could’ve pinned it on Hellhammer’s affinity for Venom. Or, maybe the Road Crew’s roar reverberated around the world a la Krakatoa. Older, you think? Argh, what if Tom, as a pup, was taken to the mat by The Novas? The ‘OOGH!’ is reincarnated infinitely. The ‘OOGH’ is and was. The ‘OOGH’ is life and death.
Anyway, the what and when might not be as important as the why. Considering the joy it elicits in many, is his grunt Tom G.’s expression of ultimate exultation? Like, he’s so overcome by the badassery of a riff, ‘OOGH!’ is the only answer?[5] This is more common in other forms, those birthed from the blues and gospel most of all. As an example, jazz has its share of ecstatic mumblers: Bud Powell, Jimmy Smith, and Elvin Jones were all known to moan. In rock’s realm, David Lee Roth was never one to skimp on being supremely impressed with himself.[6] And, lest we forget, James Brown always worked the hardest at feeling good. But, metal? With its purposefully limited acreage for improvisation? The reflexive ‘HOLY CRAP, HOW ARE WE DOING THIS?’ awed caw is uncommon.
When it happens, though, it’s wonderful. Here be three:
…
Savatage – “Sirens”
…
…
Unverified fact: The opener to Savatage’s smoking ’83 LP debut was one of the main inspirations for Ecco the Dolphin. Jon Olivia’s pre-“Jeremy” REE-REE-REE psychotic break is legendary. However, what follows his fit is our moneyshot. No doubt satisfied by his “shrieks of terror”[7] feat, he offers himself a verbal high-five. “ALRIGHT!” Your parents no doubt said the same after scoring scalped Trans Siberian Orchestra seats.
…
Tangorodrim – “Palewoods”
…
…
Back when these Russian Israelis were a duo, lead singer/stringer Heller took every opportunity to out-‘OOGH!’ his idol. Still, his first shout is priceless. “PALEWOODS!” he yips, curling the ‘s’ into a question, tinging the invocation with intrigue. You can interpret his yell a number of ways:
1. “AW FIDDLE STICKS, THIS IS THE SONG WE’RE PLAYING?”
2. Heller and Alcogolik were redoing their kitchen and their argument over cabinetry color spilled into the session.
3. Palewood is an unholy IPA owning an ABV of 66 percent and a single sip just clocked our blargher the hell out.[8]
…
Brian Ross – All…all of the songs.
…
…
Brian Ross’s entire career can be summed up by a falsetto orgasm. True, his beaming is a bit more premeditated, but he definitely wears his chuffed-ness on his cuffs. At first spin, the zero to ‘OOO!’ modulation is ridiculous, a din akin to subliminally flashing cat pics to a movie theater filled with Buzzfeeders. Soon, you fall under its addictive juju and you ache in anticipation of Ross’ glass-cracking caterwauling. Luckily, it happens often, occasionally to lethal ends. The Brian Ross drinking game has claimed many incoming freshman.
…
What’s your favorite? What are we missing? No “OOGH!” is too tiny, no “ROF!” is a wrong answer.
…
1. If you’d like to burn through your meager waiter savings so you can build a giant Warrior head that spews skull caps after ritual Cold Lake sacrifices, turn to page 54.↩
2. If there’s a similar religion dedicated to sacred guttural texts, it belongs to grind. We’re conveniently side-stepping the scene’s adoration of onomatopoeia, counting Bllleeeeaaauuurrrrgghhh! – The Record and the WOOAAARGH label among the beloved.↩
3. “We’re the ITT Tech of Throat Clearing!”↩
4. This is when journalists start emailing in pics of their H.R. Giger-shaped scars accompanied by the subject line of “I DID.”↩
5. Consult your doctor if the ‘OOGH!’ lasts longer than four hours.↩
6. Rothoticism, as described in DSM, is a condition where people cat-call themselves when catching their reflection.↩
7. Per liner notes, not kidding.↩
8. Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhew. White Lightning.↩
…
