I would totally play Magic The Gathering with these dudes.


The name alone sends uncontrollable tsunamis of mirth cascading down the spine of any self respecting listener of the music.

Like some HGH charged, handlebar moustache sporting, hog-straddling leatherboy’s sticky nocturnal fever dreams, they thunder from out of blood red sunsets stained with the smoke and fire of epic Wagnerian battles, holding aloft the proud, ragged flag of ‘true metal’.

When all others have fallen prey to taste, self reflexivity and puberty, Manowar stand defiant.

When Metallica retired the widdly widdly C64 guitar solos in favour of chic alterna-blues and photos taken by that nice young Anton Corbijn, our lads in the ‘War stood their ground, ensuring a place for ADD afflicted Yngwie Malmsteen knockoffs in the annals of masturbatory geetar publications, and a steady source of income for snowy haired airbrush slinger Boris Vallejo.

When even noted metal savants Iron Maiden laid to rest intricately researched tales of warrior kings and cowboys and the glory of steel in favour of lyrics cribbed, verbatim, from the plots of Joel Schumacher movies, Manowar thrust forward their oily, sculpted chins and continued to march proudly into realms populated by noble, bloodthirsty monarchs, paeans to warfare set to a soundtrack of school assembly style, epic piano based balladry and histrionic power chords as ancient as that cranky old bugger Zeus himself.

So- to Manowar!

Hoist a tankard of sweet, honeyed mead Valhalla-ward!

Throttle that Harley enthusiastically!

Perhaps wonder why your barbarian wench is sneaking off with Balthazar the Stable Boy!


(Wonder why your barbarian wench is sneaking off with Balthazar the Stable Boy!