Blood Ceremony
Living With the Ancients
Rise Above

It’s been three years since Toronto’s Blood Ceremony drew us into their sect of satyrs with their self-titled debut, binding us to dungeon walls until such a time our sacrifice was desired, and it seems that moment has indeed arrived. Sorcerers of retro ritual rock, Blood Ceremony lay down doom-powered riffs over top hellfire organ, but their weapon of choice is the dark mistress Alia O’Brien, whose mastery of voice and flute are the spells that bind and hypnotize. Like its predecessor, Living With the Ancients is a bone-carved chalice overflowing with the fog of a pagan prog potion, and where one ends with a hymn to Pan the other begins with another such ode to the great half-man, half-goat God, thus continuing the sacred bloodline of influence and imagery that courses through all they do. You’ll also find demons, witches, hermits, magicians, ancient Roman priests, and W. Somerset Maugham’s caricature of Aleister Crowley at this monster’s ball, a medieval European masquerade not unlike the pentagram parties thrown by The Devil’s Blood, Ghost, Year of the Goat, Witchcraft, and so on. So, go ahead, offer yourself up to Blood Ceremony’s wicked ways. You’ll be glad you did.

Listen to “My Demon Brother” from Living With the Ancients!

In the first movie, you’ve got these six chicks, all of ‘em adrenaline junkies, who take a vacation in the Appalachian Mountains to go cave diving. Although it’s more like cave crawling, because these are unexplored caves without much room, see, and since the goal of these movies, as much as I can gather, is to make you squirm one way or another, they lean heavily on the claustrophobic button. So there they are, crawling through rocky cracks deep in the Earth’s belly, in these unmarked, unexplored caves (because that’s more of a thrill despite the fact that no one knows where you are) with dust, debris, and water falling all around them. They don’t really know where the hell they’re going, so they just keep making their way deeper and deeper. Then there’s a mini avalanche of some sort and their only way out has just been cut off. The rocks also fell on one of their equipment bags; the one with the rope, so that’s a major setback. Anyway, this shit goes on for about an hour, and will only really make you uncomfortable if you hate the dark and have a major fear of being trapped in a small space. Or buried alive. For everyone else it’s 60 minutes of watching six women crawl around in caves. But then, finally, the cave monsters show up.

(more…)

I was thinking about starting a ‘From the Vaults’ feature where once a month I would tell you all about a B movie treasure you simply must check out, but that’s an awfully lame name for such a feature, and I don’t exactly write about new movies anyway, so everything is from a vault of some kind, so to speak. So, no label. Just the usual strange and wonderful trip through celluloid city you’ve come to love and expect here. That being said, how does a sci-fi horror where a woman’s head is kept alive in the hopes that a fringe surgeon can give her a new body sound? If that sounds like a delicious piece of bad candy, you’re in luck, because that’s the 1962 classic The Brain That Wouldn’t Die!

(more…)