"Speak of the devil", announce Stryper on the title track of their 1986 opus To Hell With The Devil, "He's no friend of mine!"
Not only this, but "To turn from him is what we have in mind."
No offense to Stryper, I mean, shit, man, it's a kinda easy target and all that, but I'm not that sure that Lucifer will be all too bothered. I think that if they really wanted to put the shits up the old bastard, then maybe those sentiments should have been altered along the lines of, say, "Hey, The Devil, how about we hang out at your place this weekend and maybe play some tunes to all your friends?"
I reckon that right there would be all a fella would need to make Satan think twice the next time he feels like, I dunno, swallowing a soul or two, or inventing Joel Schumacher.
Then again, man, To Hell With The Devil went platinum, for fucks sakes, so obviously somebody was buying it. Whoever it was, though, I sure as hell ain't ever met them. Anytime I bring the topic up, folks just look at me like I had a dick up my nose or someshit.
To Hell With The Devil, y'see, ain't ever going to be the coolest record to have in a fella's record collection. Even though they had the whole yellow and black ensemble going on, even though they had mullets and mascara and everything, even that don't raise the credibility a solitary motherfucking notch.
However, I would go so far as to say that the whole melding of the hymns and the "ROCK" as evidenced in the work of these sons a bitches, I'd say it's worth an accolade or two.
Who in this day and age would have the balls required to slap a thrash riff around the kinds a stuff you wouldn't even hear in a Presbyterian church on account of it sounds a bit "Christian"? Who, motherfucker? Hardly anyone, is what I would guess.
Also, if the listener is prepared to utilize the old imagination and all, there's some mighty swell narrative developments going on here;
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