Welcome to Hell… and Beyond: Five (Other) Crucial Albums from Venom's Diabolical Career
OK, let’s just get it outta the way—Venom is ridiculous and always has been. With a handful of exceptions, the Newcastle upon Tyne trio has been a lizard-brained thrashy speed metal band with even more lizard brain-esque lyrics. It’s all a bit silly, really, but Venom is also immensely influential. Any extreme metal band that formed after Venom broke outta Hell and stormed Earth probably owes some debt to this English institution. So, Venom is as ridiculous as it is influential. Talking to Consequence of Sound in 2018, longtime vocalist and bassist Conrad “Cronos” Lant agreed: “I really like to think of Venom as a catalyst rather than inventors. Influence would probably be more like it.” Now, whether or not Venom is a black metal band, their importance within metal and extreme music, and especially black metal, cannot be ignored. Indeed, two of the genre’s most well-known bands took their names from Venom songs. Mayhem is named after a pretty little acoustic interlude called “Mayhem Without Mercy” from Venom’s debut, Welcome To Hell; Bathory took its name from “Countess Bathory,” a standout track from Venom’s second album, and where the genre’s name originates, Black Metal.
Yet, the (real) key to Venom’s staying power is that while the band might’ve been—and perhaps still is—a joke to some, the band’s been in on the joke. It was clear even from Welcome To Hell that Venom wasn’t and isn’t meant to be taken seriously: “Kill, we will kill death / Masturbating on the deeds we have done / Hell commands death—kill / Argue not for the death of sun.” Cronos said as much when interviewed for Louder Than Hell: The Definitive Oral History of Metal: “I don’t preach Satanism, Occultism, witchcraft, or anything. Rock and roll is basically entertainment, and that’s as far as it goes.”
And Venom is certainly entertaining. The trio’s catalog over forty years is hit-or-miss, yes, but little of it is less than amusing. Even the band’s least-inspired full-length efforts—1985’s Possessed and 1992’s The Waste Lands, say—have their moments. The former’s “Powerdrive” has some of original guitarist Jeffrey “Mantas” Dunn’s most shit-hot playing, while the latter’s attempt at power metal called “Riddle of Steel” is so goofy it has personality. Mostly, though, Venom likes to stay in its comfort zone, playing mid- or up-tempo thrashy speed metal while Cronos snarls like he’s possessed—the style of which has been called the first example of guttural vocals and whose lineage can be traced “back to the influence of early metal bands like Venom,” according to For the Sake of Heaviness: The History of Metal Blade Records—usually about Hell or Satan or both.
To be sure, discussing all fifteen of Venom’s studio albums, as well as various other releases, would be tedious. Instead, this is meant as an overview as we discuss the band’s five most interesting and/or noteworthy records. Call this a guide on where to get started. If you want Venom’s purest iteration, start at the beginning with Welcome To Hell. The classic lineup of Cronos, Mantas, and drummer Anthony “Abaddon” Bray came out almost fully formed with their debut; fittingly, it includes the title track, perhaps the band’s most well-known song. The record made Hell seem inviting (through quasi-danceable songwriting) and scary (with Cronos’s demonic snarl) at the same time.
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Black Metal (1982)
If you want the first essential Venom album, then jump to their sophomore effort, Black Metal. It’s essentially a better-written and -sounding Welcome To Hell; it’s got better musicianship, too. They learned and evolved rather quickly after Welcome To Hell, and it shows. Venom up to this point did little more than answer the question, “What if Motörhead, but with Satan?” Yet, what Black Metal offers that Welcome To Hell doesn’t is a little variety. “Buried Alive” was the band’s first story song and also their first interesting, if awkward, foray into psychedelic rock. Meanwhile, “Teacher’s Pet” was the band’s first openly humorous song, and might’ve also been an inspiration for Van Halen’s “Hot for Teacher.” “Sitting down, she crossed her legs, her skirt crept up her thigh / Feeling something start to rise, my thoughts began to fly,” Cronos snarls, probably with a smirk. “‘You’ve been a naughty boy,’ she said, ‘now that you can’t conceal / I’ll have to punish you the best way that I feel.’” Speaking of lyricism, “Countess Bathory” showed that Cronos was growing as a writer: “All day long the virgins sit and feast on endless meals / The Countess laughs and sips her wine, her skin doth crack and peel / But when nighttime fills the air, one must pay the price / The Countess takes her midnight bath with blood that once gave life.” Welcome To Hell may have come first, and is therefore more significant, but Black Metal is the band’s first classic.
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Calm Before the Storm (1987)
Venom’s fifth studio effort, 1987’s Calm Before The Storm, on the other hand, is not a classic, but it does answer an oddly engaging question: “What would Venom sound like if the band tried for mass appeal?” It’s likely not a question that would’ve occurred to anyone who’d heard any of the trio’s previous work. It might’ve even made the band unrecognizable to longtime fans. Aside from the punky thrasher “Fire” and the hardcore-esque “Metal Punk,” most of the record is dumb-fun arena rock with flashy soloing. Indeed, “Under Her Spell” contained the band’s first true blue sing-along chorus. Most of the hooks (!) here—especially “Beauty and the Beast” and “Deadline”—feel a bit underwritten, but the band’s enthusiasm makes up for it. Calm Before The Storm also marked a handful of firsts. It’s the first time Venom tried to sound commercial, with the help of an outside producer for the first time—Nick Tauber, who worked with Thin Lizzy, Girlschool, and UFO. It’s the first record without Mantas. And it’s the first time where the band used two guitarists, newcomers Mike “Mykus” Hickey and James Clare. (Venom would have two guitarists through The Waste Lands, before reverting to a trio.) Calm Before The Storm saw the band move away from their lyrical roots, too. There are still references to Satan, but they aren’t the album’s basis and often feel tossed off for their own sake: “Metal Punk, watch his eyes / Metal, make a punk of me / For satanic majesty.” Instead, Cronos kinda tackles politics in a vague fashion on the title track, tries some power metal fantasy on “Beauty and the Beast” and “Gypsy,” and might be discussing the allure (and resulting torment) of cocaine on “Deadline.” The one thing Cronos hadn’t discarded yet was his barely subtle sex-talk: “All I wanna do is open you up wide / Put some great white muscle in between your thighs.” Calm Before The Storm isn’t a crucial work like their first two albums, but it’s not trying to be, either. What it is is 36 minutes of mainline dopamine. By that standard, it’s a success.
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Prime Evil (1989)
Venom had success in the studio without Cronos, too. Of Venom’s three Cronos-less LPs, 1989’s Prime Evil is the first and best. After Calm Before The Storm, Venom effectively broke up. Cronos took Hickey and Clare with him for his eponymous solo project. Shortly thereafter, Abbadon reunited Venom and brought Mantas back into the band. Here, the pair is joined by two newcomers, guitarist Al Barnes and bassist and vocalist Tony “Demolition Man” Dolan. This new lineup—Venom 2.0, let’s say—saw the band make a fully-fledged thrash record, effectively retroconning the arena rock of Calm Before The Storm out of existence. Prime Evil, then, was the band’s heaviest record to this point.
Lyrically, Venom continued the trend of writing about things other than Satan. Hell and Satan still make a few off-hand appearances, but here Dolan shout-sings about vampires, being insane and locked away in asylum, and even has his own version of “Metal Militia” called “Harder Than Ever.” Interestingly, the album ends with a quasi-sequel to “Teacher’s Pet” called “Skool Daze,” keeping the band’s cringe-worthiness intact: “She got a fire raging in between her thighs / I got a hose to put it out, try this for size,” Dolan sings, giving his all into selling it. “Well, teacher swallowed every inch of throbbing love / Guess this is what they mean by fits like a glove.” (Fun fact: “Playtime” from Venom’s next album, Temples of Ice, is the third entry in the series, and is equally cringeworthy.) Prime Evil is certainly better and more fun than longtime fans could’ve or would’ve expected, despite Cronos’ absence. Unlike the two mundane thrash-lite records that followed, Prime Evil is an engaging listen. As such, it’s worth checking out as more than just a curio.
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Cast in Stone (1997)
But Venom was and is better with Cronos, so it’s unsurprising that 1997’s Cast in Stone, the first record with the original lineup since Possessed, is the band’s best since Black Metal. The first words you hear upon Cronos’ return—“I am the evil one / The tempter, sinner man”—act as a self-aware confirmation that the real Venom has returned. Later in that same song (“The Evil One”), the trio demonstrates that Venom 1.0 will go further than ever before: “Believe / You know not the truth / Blasphemer / Jesus fucks you.” Later in the album, there’s even a call-back to their debut: “God’s forsaken / Welcome ye to Hell.” Here, Venom sounds rejuvenated, like it’s a new band. Indeed, Cronos, Mantas, and Abaddon made one of the strongest and heaviest records of their career with Cast In Stone—though the next one, Resurrection, is even heavier, and has Mantas’ career-best playing—thanks at least in part to that cold blue production that permeated metal in the late ’90s. Mostly, though, the heaviness comes from the songwriting—“Raised in Hell” and “Flight of the Hydra” feel like Slayer songs both in speed and intensity. This makes Cast In Stone Venom’s second true-blue thrash record.
Thankfully, the album only misses a few times, when Venom tries on trends from the ’90s. The band’s recalcitrant stiffness, both in terms of songwriting and playing, turn their attempt at groove metal (“Judgement Day”) into nauseous herky-jerk motions. Elsewhere, Venom stumbles through the industrial-tinged “Domus Mundi” like an animal learning to walk. Then there’s “Swarm”’s electronica-tinged second half, a glaringly strange choice that ends the album on an odd note. Chasing trends, especially ’90s trends, fits Venom about as well as a kid wearing his father’s suit. Still, these outliers are better than anything on the two Dolan-led albums not named Prime Evil, if for no other reason than the trio’s passion in trying something (kinda) new even if failure would result. And while Resurrection doesn’t have any ill-advised left-field excursions, a weak final quarter gives it a disappointing ending. Accordingly, Cast In Stone is a career peak and easily stands next to their early ’80s work.
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Storm the Gates (2018)
More impressively, however, is that Venom found a way to hit another career peak with 2018’s Storm The Gates. The band’s fifteenth, and most recent, album was a sort of rebirth, arriving after four consecutive albums of quality-varying clock-punching, despite having a stable lineup of Cronos, guitarist Stuart “La Rage” Dixon, and drummer Danny “Dante” Needham since 2009. Leaning into the groove metal elements that had been creeping in since Cast In Stone, Venom 4.0—with 3.0 being the iteration with Cronos’ brother Antony “Antton” Lant on drums for three Venom albums—made one of the band’s best albums four decades into their existence. Storm The Gates is heavier and meaner than anything since Cast In Stone and is on par with it and Black Metal in terms of quality. In fact, this is the best album that Venom 4.0 has made.
Venom hasn’t sounded this alive or rejuvenated since the reunion with Cronos. As such, Storm The Gates sounds like a (second) fresh start, and might be Venom’s most fun LP to date, featuring multiple career highlights. “Notorious” has the slickest riff in the band’s entire catalog. “100 Miles To Hell” and “Dark Night (of the Soul)” are two of the band’s best-ever compositions and performances. Meanwhile, “The Mighty Have Fallen” and “Over My Dead Body” are two of the trio’s most ferocious songs, propelled by Dante’s merciless pummeling. The latter also demonstrates that, unlike At War With Satan’s title track and The Waste Lands‘ “Cursed,” Cronos, La Rage, and Dante learned from past mistakes and can actually write and perform a multi-part song that’s coherent and interesting. Storm The Gates isn’t all winners, of course—that sorta comes with being Venom. The only real miss here is the clunky and plodding “Destroyer.” It has no life or personality—a particularly baffling inclusion, given the rest of the material—and temporarily kills the momentum of the record.
“Suffering Dictates,” meanwhile, isn’t a miss per se, but it isn’t up to the quality of the rest of this set and feels like filler. Overall, though, Storm The Gates is a remarkably solid entry in the band’s long career, and suggests Venom wasn’t ready to quit or flame out. Venom’s performance at this year’s Wacken Open Air Festival confirms as much. Part of the explanation for this is that, sonically, the band doesn’t often wander too far from where they began; don’t fix what isn’t broken, in other words. Another part is Cronos’ apathy towards acceptance. In that 2018 Consequence of Sound interview, he stated that he only makes albums that satisfy him and that he’s “happy with,” and also that he doesn’t “really give a monkey’s fuck whether anybody else likes it.” That probably explains these lines from Storm The Gates’ “We The Loud”: “Let it be known that we’ll never go quietly / We love it loud, a black rock ’n roll destiny.” Yeah, that tracks.
—Steve Lampiris
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