The Black Angel Zine

Lash Crank It Up FNA Records 2026 Earlier this year, FNA Records was able to uncover an old release from the long-lost Sunset Strip band Lash. Aside from being named the house band at the legendary Whisky A Go Go, the band apparently didn’t accomplish much before disappearing. Exactly why isn’t entirely clear, there just isn’t a whole lot of information out there, but the fact that they were the house band at the Whisky is enough to make me curious. The fuckin’ Doors were the house band at the Whisky, for fuck’s sake! That’s status right there, I don’t care what you say. So yeah, I’m in. Let’s take a spin and dig into what Lash was bringing to the table. According to the PR, the band existed from 1989 to 1990, which pretty much tells you how quickly this story came and went. What’s been uncovered appears to be the band’s demo cassette, now rescued from whatever dusty corner of Rock history it had been hiding in and released on CD under the title “Crank It Up”. And when you hear “1989” and “Sunset Strip,” it’s easy to picture yourself walking into a room through a cloud of Aqua Net, surrounded by teased hair, lipstick, leather, spandex and enough hairspray to ignite the fucking Pacific Coast Highway. But that assumption wouldn’t be entirely fair here. After several spins, I’d describe Lash as a decent mix of AOR with a splash of Glam/Sleaze thrown in for good measure. I’m getting big Autograph, Loverboy and Night Ranger vibes here more than anything else. There’s that late -’80s Party Rock feel, but Lash wasn’t simply trying to recreate whatever was happening on MTV that week. There are some genuinely good songs buried in these recordings. Honestly, I can’t help but wonder what might have happened if the band had kept going. Give them a manager who believed in them, a producer willing to spend some time developing the songs, and maybe a little luck, and I think we’d be talking about Lash very differently today. Instead, they disappeared almost as quickly as they arrived, leaving behind what sounds like a snapshot of a band that was still trying to figure out exactly where it belonged. “Crank It Up” has that late -’80s AOR sound. There’s plenty of keyboard work, which depending on your mood can either be the secret ingredient or the fucking death kiss. I’m somewhere in the middle. Sometimes the keys work beautifully; other times I’m ready to reach through the speakers and unplug them. The background vocals and some of the arrangements also remind me of KISS in spots, particularly that Paul Stanley-style layered vocal approach. I’m sure some of that was intentional, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with wearing your influences on your sleeve. If anything, it makes the record feel even more like a product of its time. You can almost picture the band working these songs out in some rehearsal room, dreaming about getting that big break while every other band in L.A. was chasing the same dream. Then there are the ballads. There are one or two here that aren’t aimed directly at teenage girls but seem geared more toward the young adults who had already survived high school and were figuring out what came next. And here I am in 2026, old as shit, and somehow, they still work on me. “Think of Me” is the thrill of the bunch for me. It has that perfect cinematic quality that makes me picture somebody speeding down a California highway on a motorcycle, probably wearing a leather jacket with the sun setting behind them and some questionable life decisions waiting at the next exit. It just feels like one of those songs that should have ended up in a late -’80s movie. Then there are the rockers, and these are the songs that wake up the long-lost teenage asskicker in me. “Crank It Up,” “Lay Your Body Down,” “Angel” and “Bad Boys” are the ones that really get me moving. They’ve got that combination of hooks, attitude and swagger that reminds me why Rock N’ Roll like this still matters. There’s something about hearing this kind of music decades later that takes you right back. You might be sitting in your house in 2026, surrounded by all the shit that comes with being an adult, but for three or four minutes you’re seventeen again, cruising around with the stereo cranked thinking about the upcoming weekend. I’ll be honest: I wasn’t expecting a whole hell of a lot when I first put this on. Thankfully, there’s considerably more here than meets the eye or ear. Remember that little detail about Lash being the house band at the Whisky A Go Go? That shit matters. You don’t just get handed that kind of gig because you look good in leather pants. You must have the songs, the chops and, most importantly, that elusive IT factor that makes people want to stick around and watch you play. Lash clearly had something. Unfortunately, it looks like they let it go far too quickly. Maybe the right people never came along. Maybe the timing was wrong. Maybe the music industry simply chewed them up and spit them out like it did to countless other bands during that era. We’ll probably never know. What we do know is that it’s 2026, and somehow, after all these years, a piece of what Lash left behind has been unearthed. And that’s fucking cool. FNA Records deserves credit for digging this stuff up and giving it another shot at being heard. “Crank It Up” is from an era when bands still dreamed of making it on the Sunset Strip, when a demo cassette could be the difference between getting noticed and disappearing forever, and when getting a gig at the Whiskey A Go Go still meant something. There are a limited number of autographed CDs available, so if this sounds like your brand of nostalgia, I’d suggest grabbing one while you can. As for me, I’m picking up a copy for sure. This one is going right on the shelf alongside my Loverboy and Night Ranger albums, where it’ll fit in just fine. Sometimes the music you discover decades too late is just as much fun as the music you grew up with. Sometimes, all it needed was somebody willing to dig it up out of the dirt.

Erosions/Psalm Split Space Goat Records 2026 So, I stay up to my fuckin’ neck in Stoner/Doom/Sludge and all the assorted filth in between, but it’s hard to pick out the stuff that really grabs me by the throat and makes me wanna turn on, tune in and drop out. Thankfully, there are others out there that feel the same way I do. Even better, there’s now a new label that gets it. Space Goat Records is a two-man operation led by Jason Doome of The Grand Rapids Doomfest and Sean Brooks of The Heavy Underground Farm Report/Hufr Fest. The two fellas are in different parts of the world, but their goal has always been simple: to bring people together and unite them through music, community and fellowship. What better way to do that than start a record label?! With this venture, SGR is doing something a bit different. They’re releasing Split LPs exclusively in super-limited pressings - just 150 copies on 180-gram vinyl. Once those are gone, they’re gone. There will only be a digital version available afterward, and no CDs will be pressed. The label’s first Split is already up for preorder, and for its maiden voyage, Space Goat has paired Erosions and Psalm. I’m not gonna lie, I hadn’t heard of either band until this Split was announced. Since then, though, I’ve become quite acquainted with both through YouTube, Bandcamp and anything else I could find to crank up. Erosions is a Southern Illinois Stoner/Sludge/Doom band that delivers some of the dankest fuckin’ primitive caveman Stoner Sludge I’ve heard in a long-ass time. Side One is their half of the Split, and it’s a monstrous way to kick this thing off. These guys plug in and immediately start throwing bows, and if you’re lucky enough, you’ll get your lip split instantly. This band is big on MEAN, but don’t let that fool you. Underneath all that gnarliness is a Southern flair I wasn’t expecting, and it’s fuckin’ rad. Think Weedeater, Bongzilla and Artimus Pyledriver. The band’s three tracks here feel like being strapped to a freight train that’s about to disappear into a cave filled with carnivorous fiends. You know it’s going to end badly, but you don’t give a fuck because you’re in for the ride of your life. And that’s exactly how it should be. These guys attack anything that’s moving, and then some things that aren’t. I have it on good authority that these tracks were recorded in the same studio where Bongzilla recorded their “Dab City” album. It’s an all-analog studio, and that’s exactly what you’re getting here: Analog Sludge Doom that begs to be turned up loud as hell. This could very well be the soundtrack to the end of the world. The single from this side, “Homegrown,” is my favorite of the bunch and an eight-minute thrill ride that makes one hell of a case for Erosions. Be on the lookout for these guys! Moving onto Side Two, we have Psalm, a more Traditional Doom band hailing from Las Vegas that has been around since 2020. The band has released a few EPs and singles here and there and has already made an impact on the scene, but none of the music I’ve heard from them seems quite as promising as what they’ve delivered on this Split. I’ve also heard the band is in the studio working on another full-length that will come out after this Split, and if these songs are any indication, that’s something worth keeping an eye on. Without getting too deep into it, I hear a better version of what Uncle Acid should be in Psalm. The vocals are a far cry better, and the music is well above what UA typically releases. I believe Uncle Acid works hard at staying on the lo-fi side of the spectrum, but it’s 2026, and I’m just not that interested in that vibe. I also hear some Sheavy vibes, and that, my friends, is NEVER a bad thing. Psalm really shines when it comes to songwriting and arrangements, and it goes without saying that their Traditional Doom tendencies are badass. Speaking of Traditional, the band has also seen fit to record a cover of Trouble’s “Psalm 9” for the Split. And why not? I thought it was a damn fine choice for a release this limited. I enjoyed the cover, but I wouldn’t dare say it’s better than the original because there’s no such thing as anything being better than the original. The band gets big kudos and high fives for honoring one of the genre’s forefathers, though. For me, my favorite track aside from the cover is “Asunder.” It’s a slow dirge that really hones in on mood, drawing you in with brilliant musicianship and tasteful riffs. It’s the kind of song that doesn’t need to beat you over the head to get its point across. If I’m not mistaken, this Split is scheduled for release on Halloween this year, and the label has already sold half of its stash through the preorder. I can’t recommend this Split enough. It’s a unique pairing and a hell of a welcoming statement from a new label made up of two of the nicest guys in the scene. You can’t not want to root for these guys. They’ve already got some great swag on their site, and let’s not forget the gorgeous artwork gracing this Split LP. This is some of the nicest artwork I’ve seen in a long time, and it’s gonna look fuckin’ killer on an album cover. I haven’t been able to order my copy yet, but you can bet your ass I aim to do that as soon as possible. In the meantime, click the link below and follow the smoke. It’ll lead you there… https://www.spacegoatrecords.com/

Harlott Exsequiis Metal Blade Records 2026 Thrash will just not die. I'm happy about that, because it and death metal are my top two subgenres. There are new and exciting bands crippling necks from all over the world that carry the torch once held aloft by Metallica, Megadeth, Slayer, Anthrax, Overkill, Testament etc. Melbourne Australia's Harlott are absolutely one of the more noteworthy among them. They are creating some serious whiplash on their newest full length, the 11 song Exsequiis. Harlott got their start when four teenagers decided to make some noise together twenty years ago. They showed promise with the scorching debut Origin (2013), then came Proliferation (2015), Extinction (2017) and 2020's Detritus of the Final Age. After a six-year gap, they have returned with a decidedly more confident batch of songs that are sharper, adventurous and denser than previous albums. The band is helmed by guitarist/vocalist Andrew Hudson, guitarist Leigh Bartley, bassist/vocalist Tom Richards and Glen Trayhern behind the kit. Together they make Exsequiis an energetic, tightly moshable and guitar forward throwback listen that benefits from the technology of today's crystal-clear production. Lyrically they seem to stick to the tried-and-true thrash modus operandi of socio political and introspective themes. The single “Trial By Liar” is a perfect example behind its rapid-fire tempos, speed picking and raw vocals. The vocal led breakdown and minor riffing drive the point home with the band stating, “Truth doesn’t appear to matter anymore and there aren’t any consequences for anything. There is a war on information raging and we yearn for the day when judgement is met on these perpetrators.” Throughout the album the guitar work of Hudson and Bartley shines, slicing through tricky triplet picked sections, melodic and shreddy leads and open strings and dissonant tails in every song. The sweeping intro “Incipian” and “The God That Knows No Name” are perfect examples of it all. “Vice Borne” is a standout for its incorporation of galloping, scampery riffs and a catchy ear worm of a chorus that has bounce to spare. The blackened intensity of “Messiah Simplex” is an eye opener with the inclusion of blast beats, while the closing title track has a clean guitar intro that gives way to a slow, almost doom-like intro, before ratcheting up the speed for a driving and chugging verse into d-beat fare under machine gun vocals. Harlott has openly matured and tried some new things they began on their previous album, only now the hesitation is gone, replaced by assuredness and what sounds like a band entering their prime. Top notch thrash that recalls the Bay Area, Germany and the Uk all at once is their business, and business is good. I suspect it's gonna be booming after the international metal community hears this…. RIYL- Kreator, Exodus, Testament, Overkill, Sodom, Destruction, Havok, Warbringer, Enforced, Toxic Holocaust, Evile, etc. ~TB

On the heels of missing the Iron Maiden documentary “Burning Ambition”, I was fortunate enough to get my hands on a screener for another upcoming documentary, “Di’Anno: Iron Maiden’s Lost Singer”. I honestly had no idea either of these documentaries were coming out, but that’s not unusual. Thankfully, I’m lucky enough to have access to some great people and labels, one of my favorites being Cleopatra Records, the label responsible for bringing this documentary to audiences. The film will be released on VOD, DVD/Blu-ray, and in a limited theatrical run. The U.S. run will be brief, including a showing at the San Francisco Documentary Festival on June 3rd. It will also receive its North American theatrical premiere for public audiences at the Lumiere Music Hall Theater on June 9th, 2026. If you don’t know who Paul Di'Anno is, then you either haven’t lived or your Metal Maniac credentials may need to be reviewed. Di’Anno was the original voice of Maiden - or more accurately, the voice behind the first two albums: the self-titled debut and “Killers”. Fans have debated Paul versus Dickinson for decades, and many have planted their flags firmly in one camp or the other. Personally, I’ve never looked at it that way. I heard the self-titled album first. It was dirtier, rougher around the edges - Punk attitude colliding headfirst with the spirit of the New Wave of British Heavy Metal. It felt alive. It still does. I suppose I’m a Paul guy at heart, though I love them both. I can still smell the leather and remember being a kid staring at Eddie on that album cover while hearing Paul’s voice roar through the speakers. Some memories stay with you forever. Few bands, past or present, can touch what Maiden became. The title “Iron Maiden’s Lost Singer” is painfully appropriate because Paul truly was lost - lost to himself as much as anyone else. Lost to poor decisions, to addiction, to attitude, to the endless war between self-destruction and self-preservation. Sadly, stories like that aren’t uncommon among gifted artists. Talent and torment often seem to arrive hand in hand, especially when nobody is there to pull someone back from the edge. There are always three sides to every story: yours, theirs, and the truth somewhere in the middle. This documentary feels brutally committed to finding that truth. It follows Paul through the final years of his life with almost uncomfortable honesty. I followed Paul’s career casually over the years. I’d buy a CD whenever I stumbled across one or heard something new coming, but I never followed him personally. You simply can’t keep up with everyone. What I didn’t know was how much he had deteriorated physically – he was confined to a wheelchair, battling failing knees, enduring endless pain after years of wear, abuse, accidents, and neglect. Watching him struggle is heartbreaking. There are moments where he cries. Moments where he’s scared. Moments where he looks tired in a way that goes beyond physical exhaustion - the exhaustion of someone who spent decades carrying his own demons on his back. Watching medics move him around, seeing him vulnerable and uncertain, was difficult to sit through. I found myself tearing up several times. Normally, I’m not someone who easily gets swept up by emotion, but this hit differently. Maybe it’s because I’ve admired him since I was a kid. Maybe it’s because beneath the bravado and rough exterior there was still a lonely human being fighting through pain. Paul was often his own worst enemy, but I still felt a strange connection watching him. It felt like watching someone stand against the world with nothing but stubbornness and pride left in the tank. He kept his circle small and often lived like a loner - and that’s a feeling some of us know all too well. (I’m some of us). Thankfully, the documentary isn’t all darkness. There are brighter moments where friends and peers speak about Paul with admiration and affection. James Hetfield, Dave Ellefson, Bobby Blitz and Gary Holt all discuss Paul’s importance and influence. You can hear those early Maiden fingerprints all over the records that followed. There’s even a cameo from Gene Simmons where he tells Paul he always preferred his voice. Whether Gene was being completely honest or just being kind is up for debate, but it was still a genuinely nice moment. The film also digs into what ultimately pushed Paul out of Maiden and why Bruce Dickinson came in to replace him. Again, much of it circles back to Paul himself. Throughout the documentary you witness a cycle of rise and fall, hope and regret, strength and collapse. That’s what keeps you invested. Then again, how could you not be? It’s Paul Di’Anno. There’s footage of him performing in his later years and some of it is hard to watch, but some of it is absolutely electric. Even sitting in a wheelchair, Paul still had IT. That presence. That fire. That thing some people spend their entire lives chasing and never find. Because Paul required constant care, the film also repeatedly touches on the financial realities surrounding his health. He eventually had to go to Croatia to receive surgeries and treatment that he desperately needed. There’s something strangely poetic about that - a man who spent much of his life feeling disconnected ending up as a stranger in a strange land searching for healing. What I didn’t know was how much fans had stepped in to help him over the years through fundraising efforts. Even Maiden themselves contributed, paying for surgeries and offering support. There’s a genuinely touching moment where Paul briefly reconnects with Steve Harris backstage at a Maiden show. That scene hit hard. No matter what happened between them, history has a way of binding people together. Some connections never fully disappear. Director Wes Orshoski, who also worked on documentaries involving Lemmy Kilmister and The Damned, does an incredible job here. The film looks beautiful. The sound design is excellent. The cinematography often creates an eerie contrast between Paul’s physical decline and the giant shadow of the legend he once was.  But make no mistake: this isn’t an easy watch. It’s raw, uncomfortable, honest, and dark. That honesty is what I appreciated most. Paul deserved this documentary because his story deserved to be told. Not by rumors, headlines, or secondhand narratives, but by Paul himself while he was still here. The only thing I found myself wanting was more involvement from the Maiden camp. Even difficult conversations would have added another layer of closure. Still, this is Paul’s story before, during, and after Iron Maiden. And despite everything, it somehow ends on a note that feels uplifting, even though we already know how it ends. Paul would eventually pass away from heart failure at age 66. He never fully got out of the wheelchair. He never walked freely again. But he kept touring. He kept playing music. He kept showing up for the people who loved him. And maybe that’s enough. Money never meant much to Paul. He famously sold his Maiden publishing rights for pennies compared to what they would eventually become worth and burned through much of it in the chaos of living hard and fast. Yet through all of it, Paul Di’Anno remained exactly who he always was - loud, stubborn, damaged, charismatic, and unforgettable. The ultimate Wrathchild... A huge reason Iron Maiden became what they are today. If you’re in California when this hits theaters, or in the UK, don’t miss the chance to see this on the big screen. Paul may no longer be with us, but this documentary feels necessary. And somewhere beyond the noise, beyond the stage lights and amplifiers, beyond this world entirely, maybe Paul Di’Anno is smiling... Finally Running Free once again.

Metal giants Iron Maiden have come out with a documentary spanning their 50-year career. From dive bars to stadiums. The ups and downs and feeling like they’ve had to start again. I grew up with Iron Maiden. My mom had always been infatuated with them and by proxy, so was I. I got up and out of bed and always saw this amazing photo of Steve Harris on the wall. One that my mom took when she was in her early twenties. She would always say how the picture came to be anytime she caught anyone looking at it. She was on the barrier, got tossed and hurt and the band pulled her on stage and let her sit there for the show. I mean, could you imagine? I’d tell everyone too. She would often joke saying I was Bruce’s kid because of my pin straight brown hair and uncanny ability to scream. So, obviously, when I heard there was an Iron Maiden movie I had to take my mom. What better Mother’s Day gift could I give? She donned her best Iron Maiden apparel and grabbed her Eddie mask and away we went. From this point forward there may be some spoilers for the movie. So, if you haven’t seen and want to or have been living under a rock and don’t know much about the band, I’d suggest not reading on. The movie starts at the bare bones beginning. Steve’s ambition to start a musical career and bringing his mates along. Most fans know that Paul Di’Anno started out as the singer of Iron Maiden. He was an absolute powerhouse that gave Maiden the push they needed to become incredibly popular in the dive bar scene. We actually get to hear from Paul on how he declined while performing. Cancelled shows and drug use, he knew he couldn’t continue and the rest of the band knew as well. Ron, one of their managers, called up Bruce Dickinson. Bruce was in another band at the time, following a similar path of Maiden. Bruce came to a meeting, they had a chat and boom goes the dynamite. He was in the band. This is exactly the mix that was needed. Bruce was and is just as driven as Steve. At first, they’re very much like an oil and water mix. Both wanting to be center stage. Both wanting the attention. Both full of energy. Of course this led to a bumping of heads. We watch how they grow. How Eddie became the massive image head of the band. The introduction of Nicko. How they started to take over the world by word of mouth only. I think that’s the most amazing thing. They had no radio play but grew millions of fans. Eddie is prominent in the film. While I love Eddie the big downside is it looks as if the animation was done via AI. I did look and it says it was done via CG modeling, but I’m still unsure about that. Anyway, back to the meat of the film. We see Bruce leave and why. How it impacted the band. Seeing Adrian leave and how that impacted the band. The joining of Janick and Blaze. We see the fans react, mostly poorly, to Blaze by spitting on him and how that immediately pissed off the band. Especially Steve. Then we see Ron get Bruce and Adrian back. There’s a touch of tear jerking in the film. Going in depth of Bruce’s throat cancer. Nicko having a stroke. Paul passing away. Honestly, I found myself crying. Again, this band has been in every aspect of my life. Fifty years…that’s such an amazing career and simply a lifetime to have for the band. Every new venture, every bump and bruise, every fight, argument, and tears that they shed. Iron Maiden has created a family of millions. United by music. That’s what this film delivers. A fan service for the family of millions who are connected by the band. If you’re a fan of them, this film will bring you to tears. If you’re not a fan, this film will give you insight and hopefully respect for them. If you’re new to the band, you’re absolutely in for a treat. There are no wasted years here.

Three decades after the original slasher classic changed the landscape of modern Horror, Scream 7 arrives with something fans have been asking for: a genuine return to the heart and spirit of the franchise. With Neve Campbell stepping back into the spotlight, the film leans heavily into the legacy of the original Scream, and honestly, that’s exactly what it needed to do. Right from the start, the film feels like a course correction. After the previous two installments pushed the story in a different direction, Scream 7 pulls things back toward the core identity of the franchise. That means sharp writing, a self-aware tone, and a heavy dose of the commentary that made the series iconic in the first place. Let’s talk about kills because a Scream film lives or dies by them. Here, they’re plentiful, creative, and absolutely glorious. The body count stacks up quickly, and the film clearly understands that audiences come to these movies expecting memorable slasher moments. It delivers them in spades. The brutality never loses the franchise’s signature style either; it’s violent, sure, but it’s also staged with that familiar theatrical flair that longtime fans appreciate. Of course, what truly defines Scream is its tongue-in-cheek humor and constant commentary on Horror itself. That tradition is alive and well here. The infamous “rules of horror movies” concept returns in a big way. The self-awareness isn’t subtle, and it shouldn’t be. This series practically invented that style of storytelling.  Another interesting touch is the film’s acknowledgment of modern technology, particularly the presence of AI in everyday life. Instead of treating it like some dystopian nightmare scenario, the movie simply recognizes it as part of the world we live in now. Technology evolves, culture evolves, and Horror has always adapted alongside it. In that sense, the film feels very contemporary without becoming gimmicky. For me personally, the biggest strength here is the return of Sidney Prescott. Sidney has always been the backbone of this franchise and seeing her reclaim that role is incredibly satisfying. The last two films introduced new blood and while Jenna Ortega was cute and she had a presence, it didn’t feel right – this isn’t a Disney Princess franchise, which is what Ortega feels like often. The actress Melissa Barrera who was written as Billy Loomis’s daughter never quite landed as a true scream queen and quite frankly, I didn’t find her believable at all. She simply couldn’t carry the role and story line, so her being gone is the best thing that could’ve happened at this point. And let’s be honest: there’s only one Sidney Fucking Prescott. And that’s part of why Scream 7 works so well. It understands the DNA of the franchise and leans into it rather than trying to reinvent the wheel. Which makes the poor reception from some fans a little puzzling. What more could fans realistically ask for? The film delivers the thrills, the humor, the legacy characters, and the clever commentary that defined the series. More importantly, it reminds us why this franchise matters in the first place. Back in 1996, Horror as a genre was struggling. The slasher boom of the 80’s had burned out. Then the original Scream arrived and flipped the entire genre on its head. It revived mainstream Horror almost overnight and ushered in a new era of self-aware film-making. Thirty years later, that legacy still carries weight. And that’s where I stand with Scream 7.