Conjure and Command

Toxic Holocaust – Chemistry of Consciousness Review

Toxic Holocaust – Chemistry of Consciousness Review

“Well slap my ass and call me Skippy, the premier name in super-mega, old school, retro, throwback thrash (rethrash for short) is back to teach another post-grad lesson in violence. For those not in the know, that means a new album from Joel Grind’s Toxic Holocaust. Yes folks, things don’t get more painfully stuck in the 80s than the speed churned out by Mr. Grind and if there was ever a man born too late, it’s him. You see, Joel was meant to exist during that original wave of thrash, releasing revolutionary new music to shock the world alongside the likes of Slayer and Exodus. Alas, the Fates turned a mean skein and he was cast forward to this cruel future, where all his best thrashing and bashing is considered tired, recycled and irrelevant by many. Tis quite the shame too, since the man has a true gift for penning genuine 80s thrash and his stuff always has an aura of authenticity that’s lacking in most rethrash.” When I say rethrash, you say Grind!! That was fun, right? But is this album fun? Steel Druhm, a veteran of the rethrash wars, will chime in.

Toxic Holocaust – Conjure and Command Review

Toxic Holocaust – Conjure and Command Review

The one man thrash brigade is back! That’s right, Joel Grind has crawled back from beyond (Oregon) to hammer us with yet another splatter platter of ugly, primitive but oh-so-good 80’s retro thrash. Mr. Grind has been mucking about as a one-man-band in the retro world since 99′, which makes him one of the originators of the ongoing thrash revival. Whether you love him or hate him depends on your tolerance for thrash and reliving the past. Regardless, here on album four, Conjure and Command, he makes it clear he’s not going away anytime soon. Conjure is yet another huge slab of golden age thrash, written by a true fan of the style for fans of the style. As the album unspools, the listener will hear references to all the great 80’s thrash icons and it plays like a thick, meaty stew loaded with Bay Area and Germanic ingredients. Its almost as if Mr. Grind stumbled across a creepy, Ed Gein style yard sale, the kind with plenty of scary old dolls and strange stuffed animals. Tucked away in the back was a bloody box loaded with the missing riffs of Kreator, Slayer and Destruction. Needless to say, that box was plundered mightily during the making of this album. If thrash gives you a rash, here is your chance to flee. If you feel the need for speed, read on.