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RAPTORE
Blackfire

Dying Victims Productions (2022)
Rating: 8.5/10

‘Triumphal March To Hell’ has to feature one of the best album introductions I’ve heard for a long time, and thankfully the metal majesty continues its path on this blazing sophomore offering from now Barcelona, Spain-based metalheads Raptore. Originally formed in Buenos Aires, Argentina, the band have emerged after a six year album silence to blow the speakers, with founding member Nico Cattoni (vocals and guitar) now joined by Jamie Killhead (guitar), Cristian Blade (bass) and Ángel Smolski (drums).

This is scorching, wild, frenzied heavy metal straight from the 80s, and sounding like it is an undiscovered gem from that era. If you’re not moved by the chanting opening track, then return to your coffin because Raptore just smokes from beginning to end.

‘Prisoner Of The Night’ contains some infectious “who-oah” gang chants, but first and foremost it’s a fiery, speeding metal extravaganza where Nico Cattoni sounds like his singing for his life, almost ready to break but just about keeping his pipes in check to the scalding axe work.

Raptore is going alongside Germany’s CobraKill and Finland’s Emissary just for its never say die attitude and swagger as the title track comes surging like a steaming fusion of Exciter and, say, Wolf. And there are almost glammy tinges too in part, but nothing lightweight, just a brooding menace unleashed with furious axe work and primal percussion.

I guess if you like stuff like Enforcer you’ll dig this. It’s power-cum-speed metal that’s snappy and leathery, somehow harkening back to the early days of blitzing thrash, like original Anthrax, but there’s also strong hints of Accept. ‘Devil Ascends’ is a riotous, speedball concoction of utmost fury, while ‘Demon’s List’ begins with a killer retro synth, nodding drum and clanking bass before chugging with enough fire to set the house ablaze.

Other influences I hear are Dokken and old Scorpions, but ultimately it’s something meatier, something faster and streetwise as ‘Death’ gallops on steely licks of aggression, the bass thumping as a tight vein sneaking through the wasteland. If it was the mid-80s I’d imagine this being one of those elusive imported items you accidently stumble across in some dingy record shop, but once on the turntable you’ll be lighting black candles and drawing the band logo on your denim jacket to boast of your discovery.

For swirling solos, crunching, speeding riffs and an all-out metal assault, do not overlook Blackfire – a record sure to reduce your ears to ash.

Neil Arnold

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