Yngwie Forced me to Rise, your Honor, & I'd feel violated if I weren't so satisfied.

This album, in its purest moments, truly shreds. Right out the gate, the guitar is just screaming, but a delicate yet forceful scream, not in the slightest bit disorganized, utterly & savagely precise, and then the vocals kick in for a while, and then there’s just a brutal guitar solo, well, not solo, cuz there’s drums and some bass, but it’s muted, you know, and Yngwie is just filleting his instrument of sonic force like a benihana chef looking for not just a promotion but to open his own restaurant, every cut indelibly intricate, every stroke planned out days in advance, the results of which are not only delicious but surprising in their sweet tenderness and unmuted strength.

Seriously though, you know, cuz I was being so inanely comical up until this point, this album is on some norse gods fighting in Valhalla over the last slice of cheese type shit. And you might be thinking, “dude, any hard rock album with chainsaw guitar licks could make such a claim,” to which my rebuke would be to laugh in your face and maybe look upon your visage with something not completely opposite to fear. This is because the truth is a frightening thing, and the truth is that Mr. Malmsteen and his cohorts in this endeavor have discovered something very close to otherworldly rhythms.

This is not to say that the music is inaccessible to the non dungeon master crowd. Far from it. If you enjoy, say, going to the dairy to see how milk is made, and, by the same token, ice blocking down old Mr. Withers backporch lawn leading down into the forbidden gully, either way you have to have respect for and awe of Yngwie’s guitar skills. Part of me thinks, and I shudder to utter it, as I’ve often considered him the best ever despite his death at such a young age, that this is roughly the skill level we would now be seeing from a certain Mr. Randall Rhoads if he had not decided to board an airplane with a drunken busdriver and makeup designer. Que sera sera. That which Randy originated, Yngwie has vengefully and awe inspiringly taken and run with.

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  • 1 - Aaman

    Aug 09, 2005 at 9:57 pm

    Fun review - great stuff

  • 2 - godoggo

    Aug 09, 2005 at 10:13 pm

    Why do you people always forget the "J."?

    Imbeciles.

  • 3 - godoggo

    Aug 09, 2005 at 10:17 pm

    Oops. OK, new question: what the hell happened to the goddam "J."?

    Imbeciles.

  • 4 - Al Barger

    Aug 10, 2005 at 1:06 am

    Damn Joe, I have very little patience for cheesy guitar heroics, and I make fun of such stuff frequently. Yet this review makes even ME want to give Yngwie a spin. Good work.

  • 5 - Rob

    Aug 10, 2005 at 9:04 am

    Never got into Yngwie. He can play fast, maybe even the fastest and if there was an Olympic event for such things, he'd probably set a world record. However, I just find he plays with little emotion or dynamics. It's always blistering fast, which at first is impressive, but grows tiresome quickly. I'd much rather listen to a Joe Satriani, Steve Morse, Steve Vai or Ritchie Blackmore.

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