Blitzkid Terrifying Tales Revamped Review
Blitzkid
Terrifying Tales Revamped
A Corpse With No Name Productions
2025
Ghouls and Boils! The crypt has cracked open, and from the mossy graveyards of Bluefield, West Virginia, Blitzkid, the eternal Sultans of Horrorpunk, have clawed their way back into the moonlight. With fangs sharpened and guitars dripping ectoplasm, they’ve once again donned the ceremonial mask of rebirth. Yes, fiends, they have resurrected the dead with the Revamped edition of their first full-length, “Terrifying Tales.”
The kid in me is screaming bloody murder, leaping out of my ribcage in a frenzy of wide-eyed, bat-winged excitement. But there’s also a ghost of nostalgia rattling my bones. This was the spark that ignited my torrid love affair with the so-called “Blitzkids” (as my nephews dubbed them back in 2000). I found them on the old, haunted back alley called mp3dotcom - and when those grimy, self-burned CDs first landed in my mailbox like cursed relics, my world twisted forever. Hand-cut covers, raw CDRs, and the scent of DIY blood in the ink. I still have them on my shelf, trophies of devotion, talismans of chaos.
That moment was the fuse. Without knowing it, this 33-minute, 13-track beast altered the course of my life. My manic cheerleading for the band dragged me into forums, into their label, into PR work, into friendships that mean more than any paycheck or plaque. Blitzkid isn’t just a band to me, they are the crooked, stitched-up artery that brought me fellowship, love, and some of the wildest nights of my existence. Without them, I’d be half the ghoul I am today.
But enough sentiment, let’s drag this corpse back into the crypt and talk about the beast itself.
The original “Terrifying Tales” was recorded reel-to-reel by three young maniacs who didn’t know shit about fuck, except that they loved Horror, Punk, and unleashing unholy racket on anything that twitched. The production was raw, filthy, imperfect, but those of us who were baptized in basement shows and VHS gore knew that was part of its beauty. It was sweaty, bloody and alive.
Now, 25 years later, the Revamped edition exhumes those bones, scrubs them clean with acid, and bolts the skeleton together with Frankensteinian precision. The first thing you’ll notice is the bass finally breathes! Back in the day, Goolsby’s lines were a phantom, barely audible. Now they stand tall, crunching like tombstones under a hearse’s wheels. Dr. Stu’s drumming, once thin and papery, now thunders, the snare snaps, the cymbals sizzle like electric rain. And TB’s guitar tone? Holy hellfire - alive, addictive, serpentine. Press play and it’s like being hit in the chest with a shovel made of reverb.
But the true resurrection is in the voices. The unholy hymns of TB and Goolsby sound reborn, screaming louder, sharper, like banshees wired through an amplifier possessed by Satan himself. Tracks once muffled now breathe fire, “Diabolos Rising,” “Salem’s Ghost”, all given a clarity that lets their Thrash-drenched bones rattle with ferocity. Goolsby, still in the larval stage of the monster he’d go on to become, is laid bare here. There’s beauty in the struggle, the raw edges, the vulnerability dripping beneath the horror mask. “My Dying Bride” has always been his bleeding-heart centerpiece here, but now it cuts deeper, like a love letter written with a knife. “Although my heart harbors love songs, they are crippled and insane”. I see you Gools, I feel you.
TB, though, TB is the golden throat of Horror. His voice could make a phonebook sound like scripture carved in blood. “Pretty in a Casket” here is transcendent, sharper, louder, a siren song to every teenage ghoul who ever slow danced in a mausoleum. And “Teenage Necrophilian Love”? That’s pure Blitzkid DNA, the twisted anthem that binds us all together in this graveyard cult. On the Revamp, the background vocals bloom like undead choirs clawing from the dirt, it’s intoxicating.
When Blitzkid began dropping these Revamped reissues, this was the one I burned black candles for. I begged, pleaded, maybe stalked their shadows online hoping for hints. And now it’s here, exhumed and reborn, ready to turn a whole new generation of monster kids into freaks just like me.
This Revamped edition is more than a reissue; it’s resurrection by ritual. It’s proof that sometimes the grave can’t hold the good stuff down. No, I don’t have any secret whispers about vinyl or CDs yet, but let’s be honest: this monster belongs on every shelf, digital or otherwise. Also, all of these reissues have been pressed to vinyl and CD, so it’s just a matter of time before the announcement.
So, grab it, ghoulies. Let it possess your ears. Let it drag you by the ankles into a graveyard mosh pit where every chorus feels like a shovel to the skull. “Terrifying Tales Revamped” isn’t just a record, it’s an invocation. And if you’re anything like me, it might just change your fucking life.