Rankelson - Hungry For Blood (Ebony, 1986)
Current Gemm price: $13.80-$39.07
Price I paid: $8.99 at the Armageddon Shop, Providence, RI
Worth: One pound of flesh.
By: Sleazegrinder
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“We are the madmen, look no further”

I dunno who, or what, Rankelson is. It’s a good question, one that certainly bears an explanation, especially since no one in the band is actually NAMED “Rankelson”. And it’s not like “Rankelson” is such a sexy name that you’d wanna use it just because, either. Surely, there was a Welshman named “Rankelson”, and he profoundly affected some o’ the cats in this band enuff to warrant an ill-advised moniker, and let’s just leave it at that, man. The Welsh are a strange and dangerous group of people, so perhaps it’s better not to know.

At any rate, Rankelson they were. They formed in Wales in the mid 80’s, and quickly signed to NWOBHM superlabel Ebony. EVERYBODY who was NOBODY in the UK was signed to Ebony in the mid 80’s – Blade Runner, Nightmare, Touched, Fast Kutz, Blood Money, Demon Eyes, Holland, Chateux, Tyga Myra…with the very slim exceptions of Venom, Savage and Grim Reaper, that label had more bombs exploding in air than Baghdad ever did. Anyway, Ebony released “Hungry For Blood” in 1986, and for all the bravado plastered on the back cover, they probably had high hopes for these amped-up Welshmen.

“This album is a labour of lust dedicated to the women of the world and the memory of all the bands we are about to kill…see you soon!!”

The bands they were about to KILL?

Sonically speaking, Rankelson were pretty much like any other NWOBHM band- melodic, slightly glammy, and with basslines that sounded like galloping horses. Check, check, and check. But their image, and their vaguely apocalyptic outlook, was something else altogether. Along with W.A.S.P, Impaler, and Genocide, Rankelson were what you’d call a “Psycho-Glam” band, a crazed mish-mash of flash metal and gutbucket shock rock. On the cover of “Hungry For Blood”, they stare out at you with blank, hollowed-out eyes, looking more like creatures than men- and although the fishnets, spandex, teased hair and studded belts were all familiar sights in the 80’s metal arena, something about the bedraggled way they wear their insta-glam outfits looks decidedly WRONG, like Ebony dragged a buncha druggy wretches out of the subway tunnels and suited ‘em up for rock stardom. And, really, there’s no accounting for lead singer Col “Zack” Sargeant’s corpse paint, is there? It’s just fuckin’ weird, man. And, for a band that was apparently pre-occupied with pussy, they rarely ever sang about it, unless it was in a rape fantasy kinda way, as in the lovely “Abuser”: “Baby, I’m gonna use ya, and I’m gonna be your abuser!” Mostly, they sang about blood. Blood in the streets, blood in their veins, blood on their faces, blood on the streets of New York City. NYC was a particular obsession of theirs, as HFB’s b-side featured both “Bronx Warrior” (“1990:Bronx Warriors”, an Italian post-apocalyptic street gang fantasy flick, was released in 1982; it was obviously an influence on the boys), a paranoid, motor-riffing future-shocker - “There are no rules, the game is dog and master/Bang bang you’re dead/ cuz someone’s faster” – and the cleverly titled epic “New York City” (“Will we ever be freeeeee?”), which is either a sequel to “BW” or a tribute to Snake Pliskin. Elsewhere, they dabble in sword and sorcery (“The Chains and the Chalice”, complete with spooky synth intro), more rape fantasies (“Sex Slave”), more blood fantasies (the title track), and, for the 666th time in the 80’s, a tribute-to-themselves called “Can’t Stop Rocking”. Oh, and did I mention that their obsession with blood spilled over into their live show, which featured severed pig’s heads tossed into the crowd? Oh yeah, man. The chicks musta LOVED Rankelson.

Aside from the violent imagery in the lyrics, however, Rankelson weren’t very dark- in fact, the album is a pretty killer collection of glam-tinged headbang n’ roll. Sarge’s vox are world-class (in the metal world, I mean), with all the range and power of Rob Halford, minus Robby boy’s high-pitched screech, and the guitars, by the singular named “Fox”, while owing more n’ a little to Iron Maiden, provide some tasty Earthdog chug. On the other hand, Ric Ferrar’s keyboards are awful, like a loudmouth drunk stumbling around at a cocktail party, sloshing his poison all over the swanky furniture, rendering Rankelson’s otherwise lethal axe attack into a muted metal-mush. Fucker. Honestly, he sounds like an organ grinder in search of a monkey here, and really sabotages an otherwise bitchin' record. But, ya know, a bleating organ was some kinda sign of ‘sophistication’ among UK metal bands back then. People actually thought the weirdo prog-glam of Diamond Head was the future of rock n’ roll for a good five minutes there, so most metal bands of the day incorporated a little o’ their spacey synths in the mix, terminally dating themselves into obscurity in the process. Anyway, minus the keyboard hobbling, “Hungry For Blood” remains one of the better “NWOBHM” records out there.

After this ‘un, Rankelson recorded one more album for Ebony, 1987’s “The Bastards of Rock N’ Roll”, before breaking up. Bass player Kim Hooker went on to bigger and glammier things as Tigertailz’ lead singer, and everybody else wandered off to drink blood or whatever it is they liked doing. Flash Metal Suicide set in pretty much the first time they threw a fuckin’ pig’s head at some punter in the front row, and it was all a waiting game from there. It does lead ya to ponder what woulda happened if bands like Rankelson and WASP became the norm, if blood and mayhem and raw meat became the flash metal icons, instead of cowboy boots and fuckin’ cowboy hats and fuckin’ pink scarves. Hell, I mighta stuck with flash metal a lot longer if I thought we were gonna get to kill a few fuckers along the way.

Just kidding. Sorta.

-Sleazegrinder

Further:
Steve Rickards, the cat who shot the cover.
Flash Metal Suicide: Tigertailz

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