Hey, kids. There’s nothing like hearing that fucking thump in the mailbox, as your long awaited CD arrives. Yes… a “thump”. A CD! Not a ping on your comp as your fucking file is done downloading. An actual CD! A motherfucking flesh and bone album! With a fucking cover! Motherfuckers! If I showed you a fucking vinyl you’d probably throw it for the dog to catch, right? Fuck me, I’m old.

Where were we? The thump. Right.

Super progressive crazy ass metal outfit of supreme weirdness and insanity, Beyond Twilight, has created some sort of metal motherfucking masterpiece that has been broken down into 43 pieces, like your mother’s finest vase after the baseball incident we don’t talk about at Sunday dinner. Supposedly, you can find some secret message shit if you listen to the album in a stretch, and then hit “shuffle” and piece the hints and riddles together like some big gay ass Magic Metal Mystery Puzzle. All the tracks are made to fit, musically and lyrically, no matter what fucking order you play them in. Some are even backwards versions of other tracks, played “right”. Eh… Ingenious! Pass me my crystals to hold! Oh, that’s right... Axl borrowed mine since his ass guru took his back. Dumbass.

Find a fucking mystery, indeed. What is this CD, the fucking Da Vinci Code Cereal Box Prize? It was Jesus in the museum with Mary and a Candle Stick! Can I have the cereal, please? I haven’t fucking eaten since Saturday. Never mind… I am just pissed at Beyond Twilight that this fucking band gave up their former singer, Kelly Sundown Carpenter, since I think he was one of the most original singers in this drab world of metal. He’s in Outworld now. Great band. Fuck, am I looking forward to them actually releasing their fucking album and doing something real, instead of just trolling for underage groupies on Myspace. Anyway, on this new one, Beyond Twilight has enlisted Bjorn Jansson from Lake of Tears. Well, I know Bjorn can sing his fucking ass off, so I guess they’ll be OK. We shall see, won’t we?

43 songs in 38 minutes... Motherfuckers... They sure ain’t out to make a poor review clown’s life any easier, are they now? Oh, and “three hidden tracks”! Big whoop! Damn… Blow me.

OK, kids. Buckle up. Here we go to “find the mystery”.

"Play"

Eh?

Huh?

Who the fuck let motherfucking Mozart in? Who stuffed him full with crystal meth and let him loose in Metal Wonderland? Wait, no… not that! Too many notes! Too much going on! Aaarrghhhh! Fucking hell! Shut UP!

Aahhh… That’s better. Soft angelic singing with cellos and a cutesy piano. Hum-de-hum… Beautiful. Peaceful. Uh-oh… Dark clouds on the horizon. Motherfuck! Big ominous organs bellowing like a fire breathing dragon lurking in the shadows. Cool singer here. Guitars of meat and grind threaten my drunken limbs with death and destruction! Soaring vocal lines over chirping keyboard effects and slow pounding drums. Like I am strapped to the front of a slow moving locomotive, picking up speed, and the track… the track is gone! And I’m on Easy Street. Wasn’t TNT playing these street corners here once? Barber shop metal riffage with stuff from the Ghosts and Goblins soundtrack. Eh? Alice? Dream me away, Alice. To the Other Side. Fuck, yeah. Are you playing a trumpet? Don’t let go of the purple! It’s right there! You almost had it! No… YES! There it is. Nice catch. Catch? The ball! It went down the hole. Asshole. Mom… I think I have a fever. It’s that clown, mommy. In the corner. Can’t you see him! He is playing the flute!

Off

Beat

Paranoia

Sends

Me

Falling

Through

Quicksilver

Skies

With

Lead

In

My

Pockets

And I land in your embrace with jazz shooting out of your thorny side! Dance, dance, DANCE! Faster… Faster… Pant, pant… Faster! Uh-huh… Oh, yeah. Groove me, panther. Fuckalicious motherfucker. Eh? Uh… I don’t feel so good. Could someone… eh, could someone, please… eh, let me off this ride… I think I need to –

Eeeeeeeeekkkk!

Whirling swallows of Egyptian fortitude in flight across the blood red skies! Fuck me, baby, this is some serious shit, dudes! Dudettes. Dudes. Dudettes. Ruuuuuun! Rain is growing inside me! Throw it away! There.

Whew.

Aaahhhh… Soothing. Like a wet wipe on a burning ass. Who let the choirs in? Am I dead? Is this my fucking requiem? Wow, I must have done good for myself. Not like that fucking asswipe Beppo. I fired his ass. Wait, I AM Beppo! Make sense, I beg you! Who’s falling too deep? And who are you? Is this a parade for Grey Ghosts only? I should have brought my many-colored robe. I am sorry. I have a perfect heart. Really, I do. The four torture chambers of my heart are stuffed with crusty old Alpo, but it’s all god. Any Spaniel could still eat it.

HAHAHAHAHA… That’s cute! Listen to that, willya! Tralalalalalalalala. Like the wind up music box that contained my aunt’s earrings. Not that I wore them. (But I did.) Tralalalalala. Looming shadows. On all sides. I am running down this avenue of cobblestoned whores and smegmatized death and destruction! Bumblebees! Russian bumblebees! They are gaining on me! Must make it to the Ice Cream Man! Safe!

Safe! Rusty asteroids crashing into the Hall of Speakers, smashing the Pillars of Balance into dust. Collect Call, please. Yes. My mother. No, I don’t know her name. It’s in the Balance, idiot.

Nosebleed

Symphonies

Of

Swollen

Moons

Running

Down

My

Forehead

Like

Wet

Butterflies…

Pirouettes with the Majesties of Mayhem in the Garden of Hell. May I have this chance? This dance? This lance that seems to pierce my gut? On another note I would like to say that ashes were never a favorite flavor of mine. Wake me if I’m dreaming. Dream me if I’m awake. Pour the drink, Jimmy. Hey, don’t be a Jew. All the way up. Fuck, yeah. Aahhh. Shi-bom – shi-kah! Tip-toeing through the tulips of Transylvania, on terribly tender toes, might I add. Oh my fucking God, the senile accordion player is letting his glass eyes fly around the room! Put them in a glass of water before they expire! Tread carefully! Only step between the cracks. You’ll die and never have any kids if you don’t. HAHAHAHAHA. Not funny. (HAHAHAHAHA.) Stop it. I am concentrating here. Tune in to my head, I beg you. Beg to differ. Difference of opinion. Opinions are like assholes – exit only. Spiritu Sanctu! Pax Vobiscum! The Necro Popes of Necropolis and the Fellows of Fellatio in perfect harmony.

So lonely…

Crazy fucking Russian monk. If I wasn’t a floating cloud I would kick your fucking ass back to fucking… fucking… If I wasn’t a floating fucking cloud I would kick you back to fucking… Crazy. Daisy. Amazing.

Bong - the witch is dead. Bong – the midnight hour! Hour of Power! See the forces of darkness spewing like the projectile vomit of demons from the pores of Earth! Whores of Birth. Like they ever cared. Love me and leave me, marry me. Marry me, and leave me and love me. As long as you play that song. Fuck yeah. Motherfucking cockstomping ballpounding motherfucking carnage motherfucker! I’ll break your fucking face with my fucking face if that so is the last fucking act of fucking justice left in the… in the…

No…

Stop!

STOP!

I didn’t mean it! I am nobody! Just a stupid ass motherfucking ass clown with no friends!

No…

Motherfucker.

I prayed for your sister’s sins at the altar of ridicule and remorse, and all I got was this lousy t-shirt. But at least I played. Prayed. Played the piano, like a ghost in the attic of dreams. So pretty. So soft. Like black velvet choking the senses from participating in anything but the blackness. Like the fantasies of a man born blind in a world of colors. Wail to me. Pity me, oh, weird and strange Ghost of Motherfucking Solitude!

What are you looking so angry for? So what? The black box? I didn’t touch your fucking black box! Let me go. No! Fuck you. HAHAHAHA! Try and catch me, copper! I am freeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

Running down a dream. Ain’t nothing what it seems. Tom Petty - Pretty - Pity - City of Lights and Solace. I’ll give you justice, my children. Uncle Beppo to the rescue. Faster than a piano dropped from the Hand of God onto the head of a crazy organ grinder in the shadows of tomorrow.

And it builds, like a momentum of absolute nothingness into everything.

Nevermore! Croak, croak, croak…

Sniff…

Eh…

Sniff…

Over?

Already?

Motherfuck!

Wow! That was fun! Motherfucker! What a trip! Wooo-motherfucking-wooohaaaa! Best fucking CD I have heard all year. What crazy ass motherfuckers these guys are. How can you not just fucking love this shit? Better than hard drugs even! This time I’m gonna hit “shuffle”! Wanna come along?

Where are you going?

Fine, be like that. Who the fuck invited you anyway?

Comments? Go to the Blitzkrieg Guest Page.

Beyond Twilight

"For the Love of the Art and the Making"

Rating:                               

Reviewed by:

Beppo Blitzkrieg

Artwork used with permission from Neverland Music Inc.