Trollheart

Last year we had a very distinguished guest reviewer, the man who is probably referenced in more metal songs than anyone else, and I must say, Satan was a blast. So what could we do to top that? Well, get ready to meet his opposite number in every way, the man who keeps the world turning, the man who died for our sins (and I know mine for one are many!) the very Saviour of Humanity,
Jeeeeeeeesssssssus Christ himself!

Wait a minute: I'm getting something in my earpiece.... what's that? Love to come, but can't? Father says no? My roof, my rules, huh? Yeah, I bet that Holy Ghost is the one against it. He's a big jazz fan. Can't see him listening to metal, or wanting anyone else to. So how am I going to get a replacement at this eleventh hour? What? He does? Oh, well that's not too bad is it? Uncommonly decent of him, I say.

So then, ladies and gentlemen, it seems we have a change to the published programme. As the Son of God is not available, he has agreed to send someone in his place whom he says is totally a metalhead and will be delighted to take part. So, put your hands together then (no, no: you need to put your beer down first!) and give a great big Metal Month welcome to ....

The Archangel Gabriel!

Thank you, Trollheart, it's great to be here. And I'm really touched to have been the one selected, cos as you probably know, Michael is the favourite up here. He gets to fight against Satan for God, lead His armies, while I get ... well, let me tell you about the kind of life I have Up There...

I get called into The Big Room (well, we call it that: it's not really huge, but it sounds impressive, and it's where all the major decisions are taken. Plus the guys have Poker Night there every second Thursday) and The Boss sits me down, tells me he has this big mission for me. Me, I get excited. My last real jobs have consisted of explaining what the dreams one of His prophets --- Denny, Donny, David --- I get the names confused --- no, no I'm wrong: Daniel! That's it! Daniel --- yeah, the dreams Daniel had mean. Like, sure, it's important but you know, look up Wikipedia or something guy yeah? Anyhoo, I know it's a sin for an angel to be jealous, but one look at Big Shot Michael, striding into the commons room with his shining sword and his glittering armour, and all the lady angels swooning in his very presence, and you'd be jealous too. Git. It's been, like, millennia man! Give it a rest, already dude! So anyway yeah, I feel a little inferior, and I hope this time The Boss has a decent job for me. I'm ready, I'm willing, I've been pumping iron and running ninety leagues a day, twice round the Pearly Gates and also bench-pressing sixty ton, so I'm in the peak of physical fitness, even for an angel, who is of course always in the peak of physical fitness, has to be. But then, there are peaks and there are peaks, you know what I'm saying?

So what's this job The Almighty has for me? You want to to smite some unbelievers? Burn down a city? Turn someone into a pillar of salt? (I always loved that one, and it was so handy, as the chip shops in Gomorrah NEVER put enough salt on) Hey, maybe you'd like to me lead your armies into battle huh? Michael's getting on in years --- I swear, he's three hundred and fifty thousand if he's a year --- maybe some new blood? But all my hopes and dreams come crashing down when The Boss chuckles, shaking the foundations of Heaven and causing an emergency scramble of the Guild of Angelic Craftsman and Workers, as they fly to effect repairs. God wipes a tear from his eye (it drops down onto the planet Mars, and you silly mortals think that it's evidence there was water there!) and shakes His head. He brings me to the Viewscreen (it doesn't have any other name, but then it is the only portal onto Creation we have, so there's no need for it to be called anything else) and fiddles with the controls (well, He doesn't fiddle with the controls. He's Much Too Important for that. Plus He's terrible with machines, can't even figure out how to set the timer on the oven! Why do you think so many of you dudes are white, huh? But His technicians fiddle with the controls while He nods and beams, and tries to pretend He knows what they're doing) until finally a figure comes into view on the panel. It's a youngish woman, unremarkable looking, quite poor from the look of her but with a strange, almost angelic look on her face. He points to her. Obviously she hadn't the halo of stars around her head when I saw her; dead giveaway that would have been. Guess the special fx guys just added them in later. They love doing things like that.

“This Woman”, He tells me grandly, “Is To Be The Mother Of My Only Son, And You Are To Be The One To Tell Her” You'll notice that when written, every word God says is capitalised, no matter where it comes in the sentence. Yeah, He's just that important. He stops, and waits for my reaction. I must admit, it's a while before I can speak. I test the waters, wondering if I've missed something.

“So, basically I'm delivering a message”, I say “I'm essentially the Divine Postman? The Bringer of the Almighty's Subpoena? She is to be Served, and I am to do the Serving?”

He nods, a little taken aback, perhaps, at my lack of enthusiasm. I kind of get the feeling that The Big Guy is also a little hurt. “What You Are About To do ---” Look, this is silly, capitalising every letter. Can we just write it as normal and take it as read that each letter is capitalised? It'll save a lot of time. Great. “will be one of the most momentous events in the history of Anything.” He likes to use grandiose phrases like “The History of Anything”, and anyway, who's gonna stop Him? “They'll even name a holiday in your honour. And they will call it ....” he declaims grandly, “The Annunciation!”

“Oh”, I say, crestfallen and none too impressed. “Because, like, I announce it?”
“Exactly,” quoth he (another thing God does is quoth a lot; He thinks it sounds grander and more important than said) then looks suspiciously at me. “What aileth thee, Gabriel?” Now I know I've pissed Him off: He only starts talking in that archaic manner when he's really annoyed, which He rarely gets, so you know it's a problem when you upset Him to the degree that He falls into talking in what He calls “The Old Way”. “In the name of Me, art thou not pleased that I hath chosen you to be the deliverer of mine great message?”

Thinking quickly, I glance around, my eyes frantically searching for something to excuse my despondence, or something to distract him from thinking about my reaction. I happen to see Jesus, sitting in his Big Chair, headphones on and growling “DIE DIE DIE YOU BASTARDS!” Seeing that the Son of God is happily engrossed in his new copy of Call of Duty MCMXLIX, I smile thinly and pretend confusion.

“No, no, it's not that at all, Boss!” I assure Him. “It's just that, well, how can this woman be the mother of your only son when, well...”

“Yes?” says God very coldly, and I know I have to tread very lightly here. I choose my words carefully, as all angels are trained to do. The Wrath of the Almighty is not to be courted. Someone once said Beware of wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger. Well, God is a lot more subtle than wizards and He can fly of the handle like a bastard, excuse my French. So I croak

“Is --- Isn't your Only Son sitting right over there?”

Dead silence for a moment. I mean, DEAD SILENCE. You mortals have never experienced Dead Silence. You may have been in situations where it got suddenly, uncomfortably quiet, or you may have had occasions when everything was so peaceful that it seemed like the world was holding its breath. That moment when your national team's participation in a global event hangs on one last penalty to be taken. The microsecond before the doctor comes to you to tell you whether or not your wife is going to live. The instant before the teacher realises you don't know the answer, or the awful, bone-numbing silence when you suddenly realise you've forgotten your anniversary as she asks you what day this is in a tone that, could it be harnessed, solidified, boxed up and shipped to the Arctic Circle, would make short work of global warming in an instant.

None of those moments come even close to Dead Silence. The world holds its breath? Try the Universe, mate! When God levels one of those horrendous, freezing moments at you you feel for a millisecond like a fly caught in a spider's web, unable to move, unable to struggle, watching the implacable force bear down on you, as irresistible and as inexorable as time. You can live lifetimes in the nanosecond that encompasses Dead Silence; you can live and die a thousand times, and see all the possibilities that may follow its termination, and let me tell you, you mortals never ever want to experience it.

But at length (I think about three empires have probably risen and fallen) God breaks the silence, and it is with a laugh, not a roar, and my heart begins beating again. “No no no!” He chuckles! “Oh, for the love of Me! You listen but you do not hear, Gay!” I hate it when He calls me that, and He knows it. It just sounds so, well, so gay! Of course I can say nothing. He can call me Twice Blessed Artichoke of Funtime Pyjamas if He wants. He’s The Boss. I realise He’s talking again. “My mortal son, my mortal son! Jesus here,” He explains, “is going to be Born Of Woman, live on the Earth and then die on the Cross so that Humanity can be saved. It'll be a showstopper, and people will remember it For All Time.” Also,” He mutters in a conspiratorial whisper, “it'll teach him to maybe remember his key when he stays out all hours. Poor old Saint Peter is worn out, being called in the small hours, asking drunkenly to be let in. Water into wine, indeed! Worst thing I ever showed him how to do! ”

I can't help but think that this plan of His Father's is news to Jesus, as he is suddenly looking over at us with an expression that wordlessly says “Wait, what?” and has paused his game, and is now searching worriedly for images and videos of crucifixion, an expression of increasing horror crossing his face. Ignoring him, God continues. He is not worried. Well, God is never worried. Why would He be? If He's worried about something, He either changes it, makes it go away or deals with it in any manner He pleases. Nothing can worry God. Except The X-Factor. He hates that show, but Cowell has Friends In Low Places, so He can't do anything about it. But nothing else worries him. Well, maybe Nickelback. But again... Anyway I digress.

“So you just pop down there, give this woman the news and hop on back here all right? Sound man, knew you could do it, we're all depending on you, platitude platitude platitude...” (I've long since stopped listening to the words. I know from bitter experience that once God has made up His mind about something, nothing can change it.)

So I bow out of there with a few words like “Thy will be done”, and I'm on my way. So this is it, I think. My legacy. The thing everyone will remember me for is now not being Daniel's personal walking copy of The Meaning of Dreams, which would have been bad enough. No, now I'm going to be celebrated and remembered down the ages as the guy who told some broad she was about to get knocked up and become the Queen of Heaven. Hardly compares to facing down and defeating Lucifer and casting him down into the Pit, now does it?

So, after all that, I'm glad to have the chance to finally make some sort of mark in this world. So Satan had a laugh at my Boss last year, did he? Well, I did consider discussing album covers that show Jesus in a good light, but to be honest, they're all on albums by bands who ---- how can I say this without alienating and insulting one of our key demographics and a major revenue stream? --- play complete pussy crap. And as for Mohammed, well, let's not even go there, okay?

It was then I had a brainwave. Angels! Sure, why not? Angels feature on quite a lot of metal album sleeves, and while you're hardly likely to see a smiling Uriel spreading his wings to protect Lemmy or even a grim-faced Michael standing beside Tom Araya, there are some pretty decent depictions of angels to be found. True, some are of the, ah, darker variety, but those guys aren't so bad as long as you don't patronise the bars they frequent. Anyway, I've managed to cobble together my own personal top ten, so here, without further ado, are
The Archangel Gabriel's Top Ten Album Covers (Most Of Which Are Metal But A Few May Not Be And If So Just Shut Up Unless You Fancy Tackling An Arch Fucking Angel!) With Angels On Them!
(Yeah, hardly a snappy title, I'll grant you, but YOU try thinking up a catchy title on the fly at a moment's notice!) Anyway....

10. Fallen Angels --- Venom

Oh I like this one! What? Yes, I suppose technically I’m cheating, as there aren’t actual angels on the cover, but it does it have angels in the title. And anyway, what you gonna do? I’m an angel, remember? An Arch Angel! You wanna try me out? Hah: thought not. Now what I like about this is that it’s by one of those bands that gives the Boss a real heart-attack! When He saw their album At War With Satan He thought these guys were in danger of breaking the Heaven/Hell Peace Accords of 230199 DT (Divine Time, for those of you who don’t know: what? You think we use your poxy calendar Up There? Wake up, Mankind, and smell the ambrosia huh?) but then realised it was just, in his own words, “some of those braindead rockers fucking around”. He, um, doesn’t have too high an opinion of any rock music, though he’s quite into Country. Yeah, I know. Anyway, back to the album cover.

It’s a nice splash of almost armageddon-style colour, with the figures all dark and shadowy and threatening, very Orc-Army-from-the-Lord-of-the-Rings, though why they had to involve Santa and his reindeer I’m not too sure. Mind you, the stories I could tell you about that Rudolph… Ah, maybe not. Moving swiftly on.

9. Use Once and Destroy --- Rock City Angels

Look, will you just shut up? I KNOW they're a punk band, and this is METAL Month, but again, I must bring to your attention the obvious: ARCH FUCKING ANGEL! Alright? Now, let’s have no more interruptions or questions before I forget why I came here and get all Gomorrah on your ass! Do we understand each other? Well, good. So, I know nothing about this band but I do like the usage of the stone angel statue with what seems to be tears running from its eyes. A cliched image, sure, but combining it with the title, can it be supposed that they’re talking a little about rape murder here? Use once and destroy? No? Man, you people are so BORING! Alright then, what’s next up. Oh yeah:

8. Fallen Angel --- Black Veil Brides

Sigh. Do I REALLY have to unsheath this sword? It can’t be resheathed until it tastes mortal blood, you know. It’s SO tiresome and my shoulder is giving me gyp so I’d much not rather, unless you push me. Yes, I KNOW we’ve had this title before, but come on: there’s a limited amount of references you people can make to my kind, and this description is bound to crop up more often than most. Also, in my defence NOT that i NEED to defend myself, but, the number ten selection was plural, Fallen Angels. With an S. This is just the one. Refers of course to my employer’s biggest disappointment, the Traitor to Heaven, and while we all hate him for what he did (believe me, you do NOT want to see the Boss’s bills for rehab!) it can’t be denied that this is one of the cooler images of him, at least as an angel.

Look at those eyes, like twin black holes that just burn into your soul. The slight, almost amused smile on the lips, the slightly downcast eyes, as he knows where he’s headed. The flashing fireflies of his acolytes as they follow him down to the pit, the gracefully curving black wings, (almost as cool as mine!) and the hands held low in front of him in mockery of prayer. It’s a stunning image, and shows not an angel repentent but one who in other circumstances could be seen as triumphant, as if ... he had ... planned ... the whole being cast out into …. hold on a minute ….

Well, I must give this further thought, perhaps over a few swift halves down at the “Wing and Halo” when I return home, but for now on we go to my number

7. Sad Wings of Destiny --- Judas Priest

Now, you will of course be familiar with this one, and if not then you will have seen it during Trollheart’s exploration of the discography of Judas Priest. To some extent, I suppose you could say this is the natural conclusion to the journey begun by Lucifer in the previous example; here he is, arriving in his new home, and none too happy about it, it would seem! Well, that’s what happens when you take on The Big Guy! Don’t expect a hug and a don’t-worry-about-it-faults-on-both-sides handshake at the end. The Boss plays for keeps, and you cross Him at your (literally) eternal peril. I like the feeling of torment here, the idea that Satan has only just now realised what exactly he has got himself into, and that there is no way back. He’s struggling --- not against the Fire, I assume: all angels are impervious to such silly mortal dangers --- but against the idea he will never see Paradise again. And he never will, as long as ol’ Saint Peter keeps taking those uppers to keep himself awake….


6. 1984 --- Van Halen

Ah yes! I’ve always had a soft spot for the little cherub (it’s called quicksand, though don’t tell The Boss I said that; he loves the little beggars!) so it’s nice to see Eddie and the boys putting a twist on the, um, angelic profile most of those bloody fifteenth century artists put on the little guys. The fact that the angel, a child, is taking a cigarette, which he knows to be bad for him and surely forbidden, the sly, wicked grin and the slant of the eyes to the right, as if the cherub is checking to make sure nobody is watching or, possibly, is showing another little angel how brave he is by breaking the rules, speaks volumes. Quite how a cherub got his hands on a packet of fags is something I question myself but then, that’s art for ya!

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Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018