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Sepultura: Bestial Devastation EP (1985)

As I said yesterday, split releases, like many marriages, are fragile, short-lived unions of convenience; bound for divorce just as soon as either spouse disagrees with the other's life interests or ambitions and breaks off on their own; so much for "'til death do us part."

This 40-year-old split LP (not original, but reissued, of course) is a perfect case-in-point: pairing Brazilian heavy metal legends Sepultura with fellow Belo Horizonte natives Overdose, whose career, like their moniker, was anything but legendary.

And yet, both groups, plus fledgling Cogumelo Records, were just getting started, at the time, so a split album made a lot of sense for all involved, as no one could have possibly predicted the two bands' astonishingly divergent destinies.

Earlier this week, I wrote about the original A-side, Overdose's three-track Século XX (20th Century), so today I'll cover the B-side, Sepultura's five-cut Bestial Devastation, for which no translation is required, and therein lies the rub.

Because, while Overdose clearly felt more comfortable singing in their native tongue, Sepultura's Max Cavalera would have none of it -- rather sagely stating that trying to write Portuguese lyrics for heavy metal was like writing English lyrics for samba.

Not that accurate English pronunciation, let alone correct grammar, were all that important to conveying Sepultura's amusing satanic intentions in opening croak "The Curse," nor ensuing blackened thrash rituals like the title track and "Necromancer."

"The curse is launched, beware ... The Lord of Death declared the war; Satanas is invoked to destroy; And to command the bestial ... Devastation!"

But don't be fooled: as intentionally crude and savage as these songs may be; as primitive the production and amateurish the musicianship of teenagers Max (vocals, guitar), Igor Cavalera (drums), Paulo Jr. (bass), and Jairo T. (lead guitar), there was obvious potential amid all that apparent chaos and noise.

Like extreme metal contemporaries, both overseas (Hellhammer, Kreator, Destruction, Bathory) and at home (Vulcano, Holocausto, Dorsal Atlantica), Sepultura were already stretching their abilities with varied arrangements, riff, and tempo changes.

This promise of accelerated musical growth in years to come is more evident (if no less violent and sacrilegious) on twin standouts "Antichrist" and "Warriors of Death," and Brazilian metal-heads confirmed this by generally rejecting Overdose's comparative melodic sophistication in favor of Sepultura's raw, unruly mayhem.

Their faith would be rewarded as Sepultura marched inexorably towards an unprecedented international breakthrough, while Overdose lost both direction and momentum over the course of six inconsequential albums before breaking up in 1996.

Sepultura, meanwhile, seemed to be utterly unstoppable until another kind of "divorce" tore the band apart from the inside; a tragic, heartbreaking outcome that some of us have frankly never fully gotten over ... but that's divorce for you, isn't it?

Vodu: Seeds of Destruction/No Way EP (1988/1989)

When I was a teenage head-banger, counting the days stuck in 1980s Latin American purgatory, fledgling Brazilian metal bands like Vodu, Viper, Vulcano, Korzus, Dorsal Atlântica and, yes, Sepultura provided partial relief for my unfulfilled heavy metal dreams.

And I say "partial" because, with a few notable exceptions known to foreigners, most Brazilian metal bands faced insurmountable financial and technical odds when they attempted to record and distribute their music domestically, let alone internationally.

São Paulo's own Vodu (which, as you might guess, is the Portuguese word for "voodoo") were a perfect case in point: barely eking out a living on local club shows and the odd opening slot for visiting heroes like Venom, Exciter, and (don't laugh) Nasty Savage, until they found the means to record 1986's The Final Conflict debut.

A rough, financially-strapped, but energetic slab of Helloween-inspired power metal, the album punched above its weight class, but it couldn't save the quintet from hemorrhaging its singer and both guitarists shortly after its release.

Only bassist André Cagni and drummer Sérgio Facci remained, but they duly recruited new singer Claudio Victorazzo and guitarists Victor Birner (*) and Paulo Lanfranchi to help them carry on, then set to work on 1988's Seeds of Destruction.

Clearly looking to evolve with the times, Vodu embraced a harsher, faster thrash metal sound indebted to a host of Bay Area and Teutonic purveyors, but especially New Yorkers Anthrax, who had just released their breakthrough Among the Living LP.

So, if you can imagine said album at 50% capacity -- in terms of performance, songwriting, production, and yes, plain talent -- then you'll be prepared to sample Vodu numbers like the title track, "What's the Reason," and "Flag of Truce."

That may sound harsh, but it's just the facts ... and those are the highlights!

Moreover, Vodu's occasional detours into hardcore crossover ("Keep (On) Fighting") and classic heavy metal (see the Iron Maiden-inspired "Look at Yourselves") don't fare much better, unless one lowers expectations to accommodate the impoverished conditions of these songs' creation.

Personally, I waver from involuntary cringing to rose-tinted-glasses nostalgia, but I have the benefit of personal experience -- even if I can barely remember it, much as I can hardly remember seeing Vodu opening for Motörhead in 1989 at São Paulo's Ginásio do Ibirapuera.

By then, the group, had followed up Seeds of Destruction with a scattershot EP called No Way, which combined decent live (**) performances like "This is Not Your World" with forgettable new studio material and a rote cover of The Clash's "Should I Stay or Should I Go."

This 2020 vinyl reissue from Portugal's Lost Realm Records conveniently brings both releases together under one "roof," and makes them somewhat more enticing with a deluxe package and booklet with bilingual liner notes.

As for Vodu, they underwent further line-up changes in the next few years and didn't record again until 1993's Endless Trip, by which time they were completely obsolete in a world where Sepultura had rewritten the standards for Brazilian heavy metal.

After a decades-long layoff, the group reassembled for 2020's Walking with Fire comeback, but, following Cagni's death from stomach cancer in 2023, it's more than likely we won't be hearing from Vodu ever again.

* Trivia Time: nowadays, guitarist Birner works as a soccer analyst for ESPN Brazil.

** Including some authentic-sounding (I can vouch for it) sounds of a typical Brazilian '80s metal show, in which half the audience was busy trying to kill the other half, until skinheads pick a fight with both sides, then the cops crash the show and beat up everyone, etc.

Viper: Soldiers of Sunrise (1987)

From Piper (yesterday) to Viper (today) -- see what I did there?

Few people seem to recall this nowadays, but Viper were one of the first Brazilian heavy metal bands to make some waves overseas, even if theirs were but ripples when compared to the genuine tsunamis unleashed by Sepultura at the start of the ‘90s.

Curiously, though they emerged out of the megalopolis of São Paulo (South America’s largest city), brothers Pit (bass, vocals) and Yves Passarell (guitar) didn’t have to look far for fellow metal warriors, because second guitarist Felipe Machado lived in the same building and singer André Matos lived in another one nearby.

Oh, what I would pay to attend a Home Owners’ Association meeting, once the teenagers started making their metallic racket!

Anyway, starting with 1985’s The Killera Sword [SIC] demo, on which their line-up was completed by drummer Cassio Audi, Viper left little doubt that their hearts belonged to New Wave of British Heavy Metal standard-bearers Iron Maiden and few others, but then what’s wrong with that?

Not much when a young band has to hone their skills in an isolated heavy metal backwater like Brazil, and it’s a testament to Viper’s commitment that they composed English lyrics from day one, and then quickly set their sites on recording a proper full-length in 1987’s Soldiers of Sunrise. 

Released through domestic label Rock Brigade, the album was recorded in a single, frenetic week of live takes in the studio and minimal guitar and vocal overdubs, and many of the songs were just as frantic, as the influence of power metal bands like Helloween and Manowar had crept in.

These influences are beyond evident on raw quasi-thrashers like “Knights of Destruction,” “The Whipper,” and “Law of the Sword,” which accelerate Maiden’s patented gallop into breathless sprints, while Matos tries to out-air-raid-siren Bruce Dickinson, and Pit’s athletic bass-playing gets even more in-your-face than Steve Harris’.

Not to be outdone, Yves and Felipe trade solos and tight harmonies like Dave Murray and Adrian Smith on the semi-epic title track and album standouts “Wings of the Evil” (if “The Trooper” had a sequel ...) and “Signs of the Night,” but so earnest is their enthusiasm, I doubt you’ll hold this against them.

And if you still think I’m exaggerating the Iron Maiden influence ... just process the made-to-order instrumental, “Killera (Princess of Hell).” 

Finally, the rather corny “H.R.” (short for “Heavy Rock”) saw Matos replacing his Dickinsonian operatics (he went for broke with “woah-woah-woahs” on “Nightmares”) for lower registers because his voice was completely shot after such a grueling recording schedule.

And yet, all in all, Soldiers of Sunrise was just about as professional and impressive a heavy metal album as Brazilian bands were producing, at the time -- in fact, it was better than most!

So Viper were entirely deserving of their early notoriety and made the best of it on their much improved ‘89 sophomore LP, Theatre of Fate, before losing Matos to Angra and pivoting to a thrashier metal sound on ‘92’s Evolution.

Oh, and don’t worry because I won’t be following Piper and Viper with, say, Stryper on tomorrow’s blog, or any time before Hell freezes over.