EXALTED PILEDRIVER
High Priest Of The Metal Inquisition, King Of All Assholes, The Rotund One, Scribe Of The Metal Manifesto, Unpolisher of Turds. Piley. OlPiley. OlPileyface. The Exalted Piledriver. Always and forever. Caused a rawkin’ ruckus in late 1984 with a turgid slab called Metal Inquisition. Inscribed in dead dinosaurs we found Sex With Satan, Sodomize The Dead, Witch Hunt, Human Sacrifice, Alien Rape, and lootsa fiine fresh thrashafrash. And a stoopid pointy dangerous-crazy-person image to boot! And lotsa radio silence from camp while the tunage did the talkin’. 2yrs later, an emission of dirt and slime produces a byproduct known as Stay Ugly, which hosted a panoply of sicknesses, notably The Executioner, The Fire God, Flowers Of Evil, Metal Death Racer, The Incubus and Lord Of Abominations. The universe ceased to exist for Pile until the internet piqued his interest and he came out of his analog sloughing pod to found out there was an actual fanbase out there. He ran through a very loong line of half-dead miscreants before unearthing a suitable cadre of misfits to assemble Metal Manifesto, which, despite it’s sonic and conceptual placement smack dab between Inquisition and Ugly, deficient efforts on behalf of yet another record weasel dick rendered it’s issuance an unheralded affair that would only be followed by distress in the Pilenation as hundreds of orders went amiss. Pile apologized for allowing such chicanery on his behalf, and set about for his third Phoenix turn with an even olderschool set of maladjusted misfits in search of retribution and forgiveness from his global tribe of fractured followers. Witness as progress in this regard his latest expulsion of audio, Night Of The Unpolished Turd. A brutally honest recording of all the PileyClassicks from live in Nowheresville, Northern Ontario, where real myoozishnin’s play and play and play. Occasionally, they’ve been spotted soiling eurofestival stages, and walking away with their audiences, but such sightings are increasingly rare. www.sickfuckrecords.com/#5 is where to go to get your own dose of aural excrement excitement from Ol’Piley, btw… hint.. hint…