“Fucky fucky fucky

fuckiest in town

fucky, fucky, fucky

(a 3-sec virtuoso Shrapnel-like guitar solo here)

fucky fucky fucky

fuckiest in town

fucky fucky fuckyyyyyyyyyy!”



Holy Motheeeeeeeer! Run away… and fast! Or rather stay; and have the time of your everlasting life…



to begin with, such a song doesn’t exist, not yet anyway; but I’m planning to dedicate a voluminous portion of my time in the days to come in order to compose it, very meticulously at that, with all the relevant romantic details. Cause, as you can very well see, there’ll be a lot of romance and lyricism pouring from this 15, maximum 20-word composition which I’m planning to send to our Chilean friends here… cause one, not very long at that, “penis metal” released over ten years ago can’t possibly keep billions of aroused, expectant mademoiselles around the world satisfied… it’s a shame, real shame.



An old, recently dug out of the arid Atacama desert, legend says that if you listen to this effort here five times in a row, in a cold (all right cool) darkened room, time unspecified, you will have a second penis grown, very similar to your current one only made of metal; in other words, all the Manowars’ holiest dream will become a very tangible one soon, no kidding… So this second appendage will greatly ease your way through life and especially through this sex/porno industry that we’re all heading to one way or another. But please, make sure not to miss this special part of the ritual which controls the place where you want this grown. Cause man, if it grows in about the same area as your other penis, I can tell you you will have some serious problems handling both your girlfriend and this always present, in a strangely insistent kinky way, cousin of hers at the same time. The “Kama Sutra for the New Penis Metal-Bred Generation” manual hasn’t come out yet so God, or rather Satan, help you…



so how can we possibly use these vital 15-min as an accompaniment to the guided meditation to this coveted second-dick growth process? Easy; simply indulge in this wild frenetic musical carnival, ignoring for a while all the sacred tunes from the Iron Maiden, Accept, and Judas Priest repertoire in your head, and pretend that the blasting early Impaled Nazarene worship “The Stench (Cadaver in the Cross)” is your most favourite song. Don’t forget to try and imitate from time to time these apocalyptic animalistic vocals, though, as this will also help you develop bigger tolerance towards what follows as the initially served primal death/black/thrashing outrage gets elongated, your original penis along with it as well, on “Gloria Rex Infernvs”, a nearly progressive-like material with its gigantic 3.5-min length and the several more laid-back escapades, but still built around the already introduced pristine cacophonic madness that only a scary place, full of sinister Sarcofagi and not so dormant Vulcanoes, like the Amazon Jungle can produce.



Back to chastity and monastic simplicity with the ultimate spearheader that is the short bursting title-track which alone can get a whole town pregnant so it’s highly advisable to put a condom (where?! on the cd player!?) if you don’t want to prematurely expose your young innocent girlfriend to throes and other similar torments. And it’s far from over yet with “Dignitas” violating the speakers in a similar unbridled fashion soaking, or rather flooding every maiden’s dream with myriad exploding and erupting penises all around, the shadow of the mentioned Finnish psychos becoming even more tangible, including on “Objeto”, a most objective orgy-inducing hyper-blaster, the (un)needed semblance of normality eventually arriving at the end in the form of a Sodom cover, “Equinox” from “Obsessed by Cruelty”, surprisingly served relatively faithfully, probably more fitting for the foreplay if there could ever be any foreplay in the first place with this metal penis eagerly buzzing around, perforating g-strings and other similar annoying obstructions along the way with all the genuine, lubricant-free passion it has mustered…



Yeah, our Chilean brethren had to take the torch from the renowned “motorpennis” inventors, Impaled Nazarene time and again, who unleashed this very erective… sorry, effective invention of theirs in the distant 1996, and once they made sure it produced the desired results, they lent it to their South American colleagues to assemble their own version of it. And here we go, “Penis Metal” to the bone(r), an explosive (literally) debut that also very enthusiastically brought the aroused audience back to the mid-80’s when quite a bit of (dis)organized noise was generated east of the Chilean border, when acts like Sarcofago, Vulcano, and Holocausto were destroying the non-true’s ears, allowing no one to entry their realm, totally oblivious of the love and romantic interpretations that would be ascribed to their infernal creations later.



A very brief, not very adroitly produced black/death/thrash metal outrage this effort is, no more no less, that largely attracted the fanbase due to the sex-promising title upon release, but once the “metal penis” was up and running, victoriously shagging left and right as well, there was no need the guys to carry on bashing in the same pristine, chaotic manner; their style later acquired much more ambitious, more serious proportions on the subsequent full-lengths with the unbridled brutality not as extensively applied, these later works boasting some expertly-crafted epic atmospheric passages some of those not far from the mid-period Bathory arsenal even. Yes, once the overt youthful sexual enthusiasm was out of the way, wisdom settled in leading to loftier musical exploits…



Once this is all over, you will carefully examine your body, and will find out that there’s nowhere a metal penis grown. “Shit… this didn’t work”, you’ll say to yourself, but at the same time you’ll hardly feel very upset as this was one highly exhilirating old school ride. On the other hand, it’s just 15-min, god damn it, it won’t be enough for your hyper-active 20-something girlfriend… unless you play it incessantly, over and over, until she reaches this mythical earth-transcending sexual nirvana and evaporates into thin air. But this immediately creates the problem of looking for another one, and I don’t think the lasciviously smiling neighbour in her late-40’s across the hall would be too happy, either, cause for her this would be more of “hm, what was that? are you still here?” than “wow, this really brought me back to the days when I was young…”.



Oh, before I forget: about this virtuoso Shrapnel-like solo I want for my song; I called Yngwie Malmsteen the other day, and he said he would be more than glad to do it! “But of course”, I hear some of you say, “who wouldn’t want to join this steamy, full of infinite possibilities orgy…”. Exactly! Isn’t this world such a nice, penis metal-guided place to live!?



"fucky fucky fuckyyyyyyyyyy…”