The Devil Made Me Do It

Miranda Lambert and Marduk

by J. Edward Keyes

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Published: Oct 28, 2009

The point's been made many times and in many ways already, but we'll spell it out for you: Miranda Lambert likes guns. The last time she took up arms it was against an abusive lout of a lover in "Gunpowder and Lead," the leadoff track on her perfect 2007 album, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. In that instance she had ample cause for ire, but on the just-released Revolution, she prefers a more casual style of confrontation. "When the talking is over, it's time to get a gun," she sings on her straightforward cover of Fred Eaglesmith's "Time to Get a Gun," sounding more relaxed than riled up.

On the whole, Revolution is more burnished than its predecessor; it mostly favors sterling midtempo front-porch ballads over Girlfriend's ragged, rugged country-rock — which is not a drawback when the results are as tuneful as they are here. But as always with Lambert, there's a snarl beneath the surface. "So let's shake hands and reach across those party lines," she sings in what seems like a rare moment of accommodation, "we might think a little differently, but we got a lot in common you will see/ we're just like you — " and then, when her adversary is just out of earshot, she adds, tartly, " — only prettier."

The Norwegian black metal band Marduk are less coy about their hostility. Sixteen years into a career that keeps getting better and more interesting, the group has released the bracing Wormwood, yet another terrifying free fall into the infernal abyss. Marduk aren't shy about telegraphing their intent. Their 2003 masterpiece World Funeral opened with a sample of a man howling, "I'm inspired by the devil! I am inspiiiiired by the de-viiiillll!" The group, which plays Allentown next month, aren't afraid of black metal's greatest adversaries: Jesus and tempo changes. Wormwood stops, starts, slows down, speeds up and throws nasty, snarling fits. The blitzkrieg riffing that runs up the back of "This Fleshly Void" defies the laws of physics, a blinding flurry of notes exploding like a smashed hornet's nest. That's Satan for you: reclaiming rock music, one band at a time.

(j_keyes@citypaper.net)

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