We also do the occasional article now as well dont-ch-ya-know!
appears on Pleasure to Kill (1986)
Another Friday, another content warning! The first link, despite some strategic blurring in the video, is still outrageously not safe for work. A second version with significantly less chainsaws and topless women has been provided so nobody misses out – we won’t be held responsible for your HR department getting addicted to Kreator via disciplinary meetings and then potentially telling you off. Well, we might take responsibility for the first part.
All that being said, let’s get into it. Kreator. Man oh man, Kreator. The German outfit transcended being simply sehr gut; they were kings of the thrash underground for a frankly outrageous amount of time, given just how much ass they could kick through. If Anthrax had released an album like Pleasure to Kill it would have changed the face of the genre as we know it (citation needed). Mainstream spotlight was only a matter of time, however and their breakout, albeit far later than a band of their calibre deserved, finally came in 2012. Propelling their back-catalogue into the spotlight, Kreator are now very deservedly recognised as one of the best to ever do it and, if you couldn’t tell already, are a personal favourite of this particular RSOTW gremlin. There’s something so openly vicious about them, thematically, which the fast paced thrash plays into so well. Okay, enough gushing now, the pick awaits.
Fast-paced, frantic and punctuated with some absolutely face-melting solos, Pleasure to Kill still reigns as a titan of a track in the European Thrash pantheon. It’s a monster of a track from a monster of a band and there’s very little room for error in calling it an overdue Rock Song of the Week pick. While you’re checking out Kreator’s website, by the way, check out the latest tour dates and tell me that isn’t one of the most genre-defining tours in rock history. Kreator, Anthrax AND Testament?! Fifteen year old me might have built his time machine by now if he didn’t have to spend so much time cleaning the front of his trousers.
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