It's hard to believe that twenty years have passed since the release of Samhain's first record, "Initium". With time slipping by so rapidly, I feel as though I should get myself outfitted for a cholostomy bag and dentures fairly soon. Glenn Danzig is probably already waiting for me at the nursing home, being spoon-fed by a leather-clad nurse with demon wings.

I'll not hide my appreciation for Glenn's Samhain stuff. The year 1984 is when he really got his stroll on, having departed the legendary punk outfit The Misfits to pursue something darker and more original. After dating a three-eyed black woman, he decided to form Samhain, probably because he watched Halloweens II and III, both of which mention the evil word. It's basically the archaic (c. 500 B.C.) word for Halloween, the time of year that the Celtic folks of northern Europe traditionally feared. Occasionally, they would express their superstitious dread of "summer's end" by sacrificing some unfortunates, huddling around bonfires on hilltops, and leaving gifts out for dead passersby.

Now, don't get me wrong- I do love the Misfits. They were a great and strange punk band, but I likes the Samhains a whole bunch more better. Glenn got serious about his evil, and in 1984, out came "Initium", a beautiful thing that combined the best elements of Gothic and punkic into a primal scream casserole. There are pagan and murderous vibes splattered all over it, especially on the cover, which shows Glenn (who handled both guitar and vocal duties at first), bassist Eerie Von, and drummer Steve Zing standing around shirtless, with blood all over their pale white chests. Glenn's hair is fashioned into what hipsters call a "devilock", but I was never cool enough to understand what that was all about.

"Initium" starts off with surreal howling winds and Glenn rambling about existing outside the realms of race, religion, and man's fears. I'm not buying his point that pain is a gift, but I can imagine him reciting this stuff on the high moors, all decked out like a Druid.

In comes "Samhain", like King Kong trying to do a quick square dance. The dissonant guitar riffs itself apart over tom-toms that sound fifty feet high while Glenn howls about "the changer of shapes, alone on hoofs" and how "autumn's cold brings the pagan dead/to seek the warmth of the Samhain fire". Like most Samhain numbers, it clocks in at an epic less than two minutes. The lines "do you want a paradise, do you want a sacrifice?/this is the night to feast and dine, this is the night to laugh at death" speak directly to the dagger-wielding heathen within myself.

"Black Dream" is a furious, fast-paced race into the kind of demonic love they'd explore more effectively on "Unholy Passion". Very punky, except for the spooky bells that augment the guitar chords. And the lyrics...well, they're just something else; "your existence is only that which causes endless pain/cradle lifeless bodies in the bosom of your Hell" and "I want it, I need it/your tongue I hunger for/black dream can kiss me loose" are just pure poetry, as far as I'm concerned.

Glenn reverts back to his Misfit ways on "All Murder, All Guts, All Fun", with very graphic imagery and pack-of-dogs-baying vocal approach. Glenn's a fabulous arranger, and everything just sounds well put together, even though "the things I can cause have the seal of the dead/in humanity's fading glow" might turn off the religious far-right. It's goofy, but there's still something frighteningly serious about it all, as if the man has actually pondered chests being torn apart and "the way that art starts to imitate life/at the end of a gun, at the edge of a knife". And I can't think of a single name when he asks, "Whose little arms encircle me to make me think of love?/whose supple body aims to be a limbless bloody stump?"

More simple punk riffs backed up by cemetery bells abound on "Macabre", where Glenn hollers his ugly perspective over cadaverous voices that chant "Incubus" and "Succubus". This man did not heed Monty Python's advice to look on the bright side of life, hence his funny notions that "we who live are ever dead" and "the path is withered, rotted, and deceased".

The punk thrash of "He-Who-Cannot-Be-Named" has many voices "oh oh oh oh"ing everywhere, and Glenn once again bellowing his tattoos off, this time about an "intricate entity, and how the title character is "of the worm, not of man". There is so much barking and beating at the end that listening to it over and over might make you walk outside and smash the face of the first helpless old man you see.

The Misfits' "Horror Biz" is resurrected in a truly berserker fashion, and it demonstrates Glenn's ample sense of build and release, quite the rarity in a genre not typically associated with such subtleties. The lyrics, however, leave little to the imagination, with Glenn warning us not to go in the bathroom with him, where his mirrors are black. We are also cautioned that "I'll put a knife right in you", so back off, all you would-be Danzig attackers.

Next up is "The Shift", which reflects Glenn's obsession with werewolves (in contrast to the usual Gothic love of vampires), but he is quite poetic about it. It's a relatively simple song musically (as if Samhain were ever on par with Dream Theater), and the muscle man describes the transformation from human to beast, in terms that could also be applied to a bad case of the trots (hence the reason my friends and I use to call it "The Sh*t"). You might think the idea of a man in his mid-twenties writing about lycanthropy a bit strange, but it makes all the difference when the storyteller is at least educated (which Glenn obviously is).

The werewolf story is expanded upon in "The Howl", about a "human slaughterhouse upon the hill, the road is red". This monster mosh features a fast drum beat rolling out on toms and snare, with a snaky bass line, and a feverish ending that finds Glenny yelling his head off while a voice deadpans the verse lyrics behind him. It also has some wonderfully ghoulish lines, such as "there is a grove of bleached bones, where lupines vomit childrens' limbs/taking all their liberties with parts of a human anatomy". Man, I'm gonna read this stuff to my kids, right before they go nighty-night...

Capping off this murderous foray into Danzig's mind is the happy-go-punky "Archangel", touched ever so slightly by the spirit of old timey rock 'n roll and, of course, Lucifer going "ohhh ohhh". There's even a hilariously simplistic attempt at a guitar solo at the end, which would take even an amateur about twenty seconds to learn. With his magnificent range and vocal belting that he developed on the streets of Lodi, New Jersey, he speaks of "power, pride, contempt, and lust- all these things I give to you" as if he were giving away such concepts with every album sold.

This was the world's first exposure to the evil pagan world of Samhain, a place where it's OK to cuddle up with headless torsos and fiery demon wenches. I don't know how, but the band really captured the zeitgeist of pre-Christian Europe around late October, and talk of sacrifice and the returning dead doesn't sound as stupid here as it would coming from the mouth of, say, Eddie Money. Even better, they coerced Minor Threat's Lyle Preslar to play "lead guitar" on several of the songs, and if that, coupled with everything else I've told you, doesn't convince you to buy "Initium", then you are too far gone for me to reach.

Also see my review of "Unholy Passion", the EP that followed, if you are looking to broaden your Samhain knowledge.

Recommended: Yes