Diamonds & Rust: Crossover Memories And 35 Years Of The Cro-Mags’ Best Wishes

[Artwork: The Appearance of Lord Nrsimhadeva from The Bhaktivedanta Book Trust]

“Blow that cigar smoke in my face one more time and find out.”

The years have a way of getting fuzzy, but if memory serves, the above warning was issued by Harley Flanagan at the Phantasy Theater in Cleveland circa 1989, a night that also featured the forgotten splendors of the Spudmonsters and the underrated False Hope as opening acts.

Now, I’m not exactly sure just how dense a human being needs to be in order to blow cigar smoke into the face of known powder keg Harley Flanagan at a show I would have to assume said individual willfully paid to attend, but the cigar huffing flogged bag that woke up that particular morning with a goal of making exceedingly poor decisions decided to avoid Harley’s direct caution and flippantly blew more lung exhaust in his direction. Flanagan stopped the show, hopped off the stage, and promptly whooped that dude in front of Christ and creation. Then, ol’ Smokey Joe just sort of disappeared from the venue.

To be clear, while I am always in favor of just desserts being doled out to those in need, as a card-carrying member of the “dirty hippie society,” I typically vote for peace at shows, despite an unquenchable penchant for fierce music. I do, however, think about that night now and again, particularly when the subject of CROSSOVER comes up, because amidst crossover’s most prolific strides—’86 to ’90, give or take—the fated merger of metal and hardcore kids at shows often resulted in conflict, at least in my neck of the woods. Hardcore kids mocked metal lords for being “swords and dragons nerds” (they were right), and metal lords mocked their hardcore counterparts for being overly serious and high-strung (we were also right). So, yeah, plenty of pushing and shoving back then.

Now would be a good time for a quick overview of the term “crossover” as it relates to metal, as it’s not like our beloved genre shirked punk until, say, 1986. Punk was woven throughout the NWOBHM, and as early as ’84 you had punk bands like Black Flag (who’d just released the metalized My War) sharing a label and the stage with the likes of Saint Vitus. Likewise, albums like War and Pain and Eye for an Eye were punk as shit, the English Dogs and Warfare landed an absolute haymakers in ‘85 with Forward into Battle and Metal Anarchy, and Zoetrope plowed new paths with a punk / metal hybrid they dubbed “street metal.” In other words, a whole lotta intermingling pretty much from day one.

With crossover, though—or what the majority of us think of as crossover the genre today—we were exposed to another level of aggression apposite of the times, fusing the wild abandon of thrash with the burgeoning and bludgeoning East Coast hardcore scene. This birthed a string of seminal crossover releases from the epicenter of New York City that included notables from bands like S.O.D. (1985’s Speak English or Die was a juvenile album, but it’s also pretty much ground zero), Agnostic Front (most essential: Cause for Alarm [1986]), Crumbsuckers (most essential: Life of Dreams [1986]), Ludichrist (most essential: Powertrip [1988]), Carnivore, Prong (1988’s Force Fed only), Cro-Mags (duh), Leeway (most essential: Born to Expire [1986]) and Sheer Terror (Just Can’t Hate Enough [1989]).

[Next level bonus points — Most anyone who dipped into the above also flipped for the following straight-up NYHC records that edged the perimeter of crossover: Sick Of It All’s Blood Sweat and No Tears (1989), and Killing Time’s Brightside(1989).]

As far as my timeline is concerned, I was a reluctant participant in punk early on due to an obsession with fantasy realms, endless solos and singers who could really belt out screams. Thrash, though, in all its forms definitely spoke to me, so the foundation was set via bands such as Dark Angel, Nuclear Assault, D.R.I. (literally penning an album called Crossover), Sacred Reich et al. Where the switch fully flipped, however, was when my very good friend became chums with a hardcore kid through school, leading to tape trades that brought bands like Agnostic Front, Bad Brains, Cro-Mags, Attitude Adjustment, Token Entry and Wrecking Crew (Balance of Terror: BOOM) into our lives. Looking back on it all today, I really didn’t have a lot to be overly angry about, but sometimes all one needs is youth to fuel fury’s fire, and hardcore punk made me feel as if I could lift a car over my head, so I was pretty much an easy mark from that point forward.

My first encounter with Best Wishes was a fully leveling experience. I knew Age of Quarrel only through a dubbed tape, and suddenly being confronted with the brutal artwork for album number two all but stopped the Earth from spinning on its axis. And opting for a seemingly incompatible title like Best Wishes? That only deepened the peculiarity and intrigue. But I really had no clue what I was looking at, as my knowledge of Hinduism up to that point basically started and ended with “they have a ton of gods, and a lot of them look cool,” and my only experience with Hare Krishnas were related to chance encounters at the airport. Nevertheless, I loved it when bands inspired listeners to learn (Iron Maiden), and I was equally intrigued by religions outside of what was routinely drilled into our heads in and around the midwest.

So, yes, I took every single bit of the bait that fateful day. Without the internet, though, the mystery of that artwork lingered for decades, which is actually kind of a wonderful thing. Remember when things could still remain a toothsome mystery? Beautiful times that seem largely gone in the modern age. If, however, you find yourself interested in a detailed rundown of the Best Wishes artwork and would rather not read a 10¢ interpretation from yours truly, direct your attention »here«. I’m guessing you will not be disappointed.

Suffice to say, I could not get Best Wishes home fast enough. And once there, I quickly did what any self-respecting metal freak from the ‘80s did after popping open the packaging and quickly breezing through the booklet: drop the CD into the tray and wait to see the running time. 33 minutes was hardly a shocker from a hardcore punk perspective, but if you came at Best Wishes from the metal side of the fence, you were at least happy your money bought a little more runtime than Reign in Blood.

Hitting play that very first time made it abundantly clear that the Cro-Mags had made some significant changes to their sound. Gone was their vocal cord assaulting original frontman John Joseph, and with him went the raw-as-dog-balls, torn from the NYC gutters pure hardcore at the heart of Age of Quarrel. But for people like me raised on heavy metal and thrash? For us, these songs hit all available targets, delivering every ounce of the savagery from the debut, but with a more crisp, crunchy, melodic and modern design. Which brings us to… SONG BREAKDOWNS.

Kicking things off with “Death Camps” is a baller move. While I’d remark that the four count BOOM that launches the eponymous Bad Brains debut likely marks the most potent start to any record of that era, the way Best Wishes quickly establishes an unmistakable tension right from the jump represents a defining moment not just for crossover, but for all of metal in general. New drummer Pete Hines rolls in rather unassumingly from complete darkness until Harley’s bulldozer bass drops 15 seconds in, and then that “call to arms” riff from Parris Mitchel Mayhew jumps out so clean and sharp and LOUD.

The first breakdown lands about 1:50 in, and it’s huge enough to pause, rewind and play again, over and over again. The song swells in a most epic manner just before the 3-minute mark, as Harley’s bass flies around the edges before splitting back to bulldozing speed. The tension peaks around 3:30, then whammo: a series of flying solos from newcomer Doug Holland, who came to the Cro-Mags from the hugely underrated KRAUT. “Death Camps” is the consummate crossover opener, and I have no idea how any surrounding furniture managed to survive initial encounters.

“Days of Confusion” continues the ‘slow yet quick build’ motif, but another beautifully crisp Mayhew riff kicks the song into a nice gallop just before the 30 second mark. This feels very close to something that could’ve fallen off an Age of Quarrel B-side, as the song spends all of its brief 2 minutes-and-change running at full speed without worrying about dazzling the listener with melodic soloing. In other words, this is cut is a riff sandwich.

[Next level bonus points — can’t get enough Parris Mitchel Mayhew riffs? Check out his latest crossover endeavor: AGGROS.]

Anyone have “love song at track three” on their bingo card? Prrrrobably not. And I have a feeling Casey Kasem would’ve said NOPE if I’d called American Top 40 back in 1989 and requested him to play “The Only One” as a dedication to a girl I had a huge crush on and lived way the hell across town. I STILL LOVE YOU, ANDREA. In any event, the Cro-Mags managed to make a love song not sound overly syrupy, and while you’d have to expect people to head to the can or bar if the band ever pulled this cut out for a live situation, it’s still cool to have a heavy song represented this way. For me back then, as a teenager wrassling with frenzied hormones, “The Only One” definitely found a way to resonate, despite sort of landing from left field.

Right, BEAT IT, SCHMALTZ. “Down but Not Out” follows the love ballad, and it jumps from the gate with all the thrashing glory of a more polished Kill ‘Em All. If you’re not immediately up and doing laps around the room by the 30-second mark, check to make sure your feet aren’t nailed to the floor. Holland throws down another lightning lead by the halfway point, and the breakdown around 2:45 features a very curious and sudden INCREASE IN VOLUME FOR THE BIG RIFFING. I still have no idea if this was a calculated move or the result of a cat jumping on the deck, but it’s a very effective and affective use of crunch. For the LP owners, “Down but Not Out” was a most vigorous period on the end of the sentence that was side A.

I didn’t know who or what the hell the Demoniac was back when I first encountered Best Wishes, but Harley paints a pretty clear picture that it’s meant to represent all the greedy, pitiless megalomaniacs we all continue to suffer on a daily basis. More specifically, “Crush the Demoniac” appears to offer up a caution for guarding against allowing such traits to manifest in yourself. Gotta kill, gotta fight, gotta crush those urges, and what better way to do so than by cranking one of the crunchiest and most hammering choruses you could ever hope to encounter. Holland’s lead just after the halfway point is one of the prettiest and glassiest of the record, and the power behind Mayhew’s riffs as he thrashes back into the spotlight is powerful enough to blow through a brick wall.

“Fugitive” is another track that, similar to “The Only One,” features Harley largely shelving his gnarled bark in favor of actual singing. It’s a surprisingly bright song, opening with a riff that carries with it a palpable sense of hopefulness, and it certainly fits with Flanagan’s lyrics largely concerned with atonement and enlightenment. “Fugitive” also represents Harley’s biggest chance to shine on the bass, putting his walloping play above just about everything else and just letting it FLY up and down the song’s full 4-plus minutes. Is there a better and heavier bass tone in metal than that which drops around the 3-minute mark here? Lemmy would be oh-so proud.

Hey, remember what I said about “Fugitive” laying down the heaviest bass lick of the album? Forget I said that. Well, don’t forget it, just put it back in your pocket and consider the possibility that it was sneakily setting us up for “Then and Now.”

Harley opens track seven with a grand leveler bass lick—a fully bulldozing SCLAP DOODLE-DEE BOOP BOOP BAP run that effectively gallops through the full 3 minutes. “Then and Now” is an absolute firebomb of a track that could easily have found its way onto Age of Quarrel, throwing punch after punch in the opening 30 seconds before landing the album’s most devastating riff breakout 37 seconds in. And holy fricken smoke does this flipping tune ever frigging jam HEAVILY right around its 1:45 mark. A perfect song for forcing yourself into explosive action, so maybe earmark it for that special day when you finally decide to march into your boss’s office and cram the Penske file right up their arse.

The slyly titled “Age of Quarrel” closes things out, and it is without question the ideal finale for an album that underscores vigor and resilience as enthusiastically as does Best Wishes. Ol’ Pistol Pete kicks off the cut with a marching drum pattern that quickly gets picked up by Harley’s gigantic bass. From there, the song spends 3/4 of its allotted time slowly increasing the pace and intensity, right up to the 3:40 mark where things suddenly swing into a crucial moshing stomp that ratchets up Up UP until everything suddenly DROPS into a very palpable silence at the finish. The riffs leading up to that abrupt cut-off are corrosive and sharp and LOUD, and the listener is all at once left with teeth gritted and fists clenched, looking for something to fucking smash. What exactly is a person supposed to do with all that energy stacked up and on the verge of explosion? You either go out and throw a tank through someone’s living room window or… just start the album again. So, Hulkster, unless you really dislike your neighbor, I would highly suggest the latter.

More often than not, my gut all but demands Best Wishes be handed the crown for Greatest Crossover Album of All Time, but that’s tricky terrain if we (deservedly) allow entry across the board to include work from beyond NYC and releases that crossed over using punk outside of straight-up hardcore. The records already listed waaaay up there in the intro to this piece aside, there are heavy hitting contenders by the likes of D.R.I., Excel, The Accüsed, Cryptic Slaughter, Wehrmacht, etc. ad infinitum that all step into the ring swinging chairs wrapped in barbed wire. But there really is something extra special about what the Cro-Mags achieved with Best Wishes. The immaculate production (Chris Williamson & crew), the crisp and loud punchiness behind all that riffing, those glassy leads, and of course Harley’s leveling bass—all of it serves to vault Best Wishes to the top of the heap. Plus, although the overall objective here is one that clearly underscores a teeth-gritted toughness, there are milder, more introspective moments that add even more texture and peculiarity to the full picture.

Yes, I have the fortuitous benefit of nostalgia that adds considerably to the overall windfall, but I have to imagine that anyone who picks up Best Wishes for the first time today would quickly find themselves awash with the same sentiments of confidence, courage and righteousness that ancients like me experienced 35 years ago. How is it that Best Wishes somehow manages to NOT sound dated after all this time? Seems unlikely for a record that hit the streets over three decades ago, but Best Wishes is truly a timeless work of powerful crossover that will never lose that vigorous brilliance.

Happy 35th, you old hammerer.