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Kerrang!   June 30, 1990

Brawn to be Wild!
By Mike Gitter

'Danzig II: Lucifuge'
(Def American advance tape)

   In the comic book world of his own design, Glenn Danzig would
have surely ditched his current assemblage for the like of Hulk
Hogan, Robo Cop and Marvel's Wolverine. Somewhere between 'Blood
Orgy Of The She Devils' and Black Oak Arkansas' Jim Dandy, he
lurks, pumping his biceps, triceps, hamstrings and ego with all
kinds of half-baked impieties.
   Larger than life, stranger than fiction, unfriendly, creepy
and severely talented, the presumptuously titled 'Luciwhathis'
('Do your homework on that one,' admonishes the Satanic Fonz)
finds the man stumbling on predictably morbid, yet uneven turf.
   Forsaking that fiery rifferama of his eponymous 1988 debut,
what we've got is a diluting of the brutal Autumn vision on which
he's staked his decade-plus claim. Gone are the latter-day Damned
meets AC/DCisms, the guttural rage, the hell-born black magic
melodies. More Mountain than Motorhead, Bloodrock than Black
Sabbath, Elvis than evil, Danzig's (the band) stylistic
explorations reek of plod and pomp. Top heaviness and lack of
   Only opener 'Long Way Back From Hell' gets the blood boiling.
Fiery, frenetic, spitting vitriol and brimstone, when the Cult Of
Glenn asks: 'Do you want to take a life?/Do you want to cross
that line?' 'F**K YEAH!' seems the appropriate affirmation.
   'Snakes Of Christ' is the golem of a good idea; the sort of
thing Glenn tried out in Samhain (his most intriguing musical
vision to date), but it falls a bit short here. It's a pile-up of
John Christ's perverse, twisting guitars - at one point inverting
the blood-curdling 'Twist Of Cain' - and Danzig's outer limits
   But just two songs in and the long slide commences.
   Strange that the dull, laconic 'Killer Wolf' and 'I'm The
One', a twangy, acoustic Elvis tribute, sound virtually
indistinguishable. With or without Eerie Von Stehlman's bass plod
or Chuck Biscuits' once-again criminally shortchanged drumming,
the common denominator is strictly yawnsville. Sheesh, the
awfully titled 'Tired Of Being Alive' (gotta better alternative?)
seems ravenous and electric in comparison.
   Danzig's current inclination is best summed up on 'Devil's
Plaything'. Balancing hellbent power and sombre melancholy aided
by Rick Rubin's house of real Metal production, this is about as
close as Glenn gets to raw and sinister blues like Robert
   By and large, the bulk of Side Two is as unmemorable as it is
badly conceived: '777', a clumsy cradle of baroque chordings and
clumsy slide guitar; 'Girl' and 'Pain In The World' I can't even
recall what they were about, even after 666 plays.
   'Blood & Tears' showcases Glenn's rich, dynamic vocal pyro.
Orbison-like in his throaty pathos and minimalist composition,
it's stripped of the tiresome occultist claptrap and macho
chest-beating that Danzig's true talents shine forth.
   Roy Orbison never needed a Gold's Gym membership.