Pharohs by Crimson: A Speed Metal Odyssey That Still Kicks Ass (1993)
Alright, let’s talk about Pharohs, the wild ride of a debut album from Crimson—a band that didn’t need anyone’s permission to shred. Released in ‘93 under the radar on Not On Label, this US-born gem is pure speed metal chaos with just enough grit and groove to make your headbang-induced neck pain feel worth it. It’s not perfect, but damn if it doesn’t leave an impression.
First off, can we talk about "Cemetery Dredful"? This track hits like a freight train fueled by bad decisions and adrenaline. The riffs are relentless, spiraling into some sort of unholy mosh pit anthem. You know those songs where you’re not even sure what the vocalist is screaming about, but you’re too busy air-guitaring to care? Yeah, that’s this one. What sticks with me most is how the drums sound like they’re trying to escape the mix—they’re pounding so hard they almost break free. It’s messy, loud, and absolutely electric. If I had to pick one track to describe why Pharohs deserves attention, this would be it.
Then there’s “Journey Into Senile Oblivion,” which flips the script a little. Where “Cemetery Dredful” is all raw power, this cut takes its time building tension before exploding into face-melting solos. There’s something hypnotic about the way the guitars weave through each other, creating layers of sound that feel both chaotic and precise. And when the vocals kick back in around the halfway mark… dude, goosebumps. It’s the kind of song that makes you want to drive too fast at midnight, windows down, screaming lyrics no one else will understand.
The rest of the album holds up pretty well too—tracks like “Fellowship of Awl” and “At the Point of Enlightenment” deliver more than their fair share of shreddy goodness. But honestly, it’s the energy of Pharohs as a whole that grabs you by the collar and refuses to let go. Sure, production-wise, it’s got that DIY roughness typical of underground ‘90s releases, but that only adds to the charm. You can practically hear the sweat dripping off the fretboards.
So here’s the thing: listening to Pharohs feels like stumbling across a hidden treasure chest buried in the woods. It’s unpolished, maybe a bit forgotten, but packed full of passion and fire. In a world obsessed with polished pop-metal hybrids, this record reminds us why speed metal was such a game-changer back in the day—it wasn’t afraid to get weird, loud, and unapologetically heavy.
And hey, fun fact: I once tried to explain this album to my mom, and she looked at me like I’d grown a second head. Maybe that’s the ultimate compliment right there.
