These all arrived with 1/4" corner bend to one corner of the jacket.  It's pretty minor but it might annoy some collector types. 

GERMAN CULT HEAVY METAL 1986!

What would the World or life be like if we didn't celebrate the classics every now and then? Speaking for myself, I'd be constantly suffering from future shock - I haven't owned a phone since the last millenium - so that's why I believe a little "mise en page", not to mention grade A propulsion (or propping up), is called for in regards to Germany's one-off classic heavy metal gem by Black Fate, Commander of Fate, released on vinyl as well as cassette in 1986 (the year 8-bit NES mania took over the countryside) before re-appearing, re-mastered, albeit on limited CD, in 2017 under Karthago Records. Firstly, I love the grotty and dank, swamped-the-frig out, modular-like level of production and mixing, which sees the battery propped up like a squashed fly on the wall, hammering out stoic and statically charged, evilly pulsing bass lines compounded by a most squat and lumbering, workman-like drumming ethos. The stridently raw, fluidly crunchy guitars motor on as if running for their lives from the scythe-wielding Reaper itself, like they do on "Champagne", a bone-rattling, cork-popping nail biter and heart stopper wrapped into one. That said, some of the longer, more divergent and tangential numbers take the listener on an insouciantly pummeling road(kill) trip akin to following a map fraught with queer dimensions, in addition to scurrilous misleading exit ramps veering straight into crystal-clear 80s styled heavy rock reminiscent of UFO and The Headpins. A great example consists of the willowy, mid-tempo billow-er "Child of Hell", throughout which, imbued as it is with dreamy, starry-eyed keys, easily brings to mind Sab's Dio stand-out, "Heaven And Hell". (Its late escalating bridge and gang-shouted denouement placidly leads us to rumble on the Maiden-esque, yet still throttling-as-F, "Wild In the Streets" - "Wild auf den Straßen", eh?) Front skeletor Michael Hüttemann's warmly inflected mid-range and concise vocals inject a bit of lugubriously affable Sean Harris meets Dave Wall (Desolation Angels) chutzpah into the proceedings, whilst the boxy, prattle-some drum beats and fills effectively partake in a similarly locked-in and (bop) steady stride, the kind our neighbors only secretly bang out to when we're not looking. The album's first half proper - that is, first four tracks, discounting a couple of innocuously paralleling bonus tracks - rocks hard enough but, holy cow, is the next ever rich in tonal variations, including more of Hüttemann's slick, feel-good chanting - the kind, in fact, which instils fond, ever-so-youthful early 80s recollections of chilling out with my older European cousins while Nena's '83 radio-hit "99 Luftballons" belts forth out of the stereo with all of its cathartic, albeit poppy, splendor (hey, we were kids once, remember?!). This is especially true of my top Commander of Fate pick, the all-out fist-pumping and raw, naturally harmonic-sized "Warchild", as it stirs itself up in a loosey-goosey frenzy of foot-stomping, pedal to the metal acceleration - Attentat Rock style, for instance - prior to taking off, duly out of sight with one of the album's few bona fide refrains, and an intensely memorable or unforgettable one at that. Sean Harris-like "Yeaah-aah-ah!"s pepper this one with lithesome, liberating grace, a terrific counter-point to its rough n' ready (sl)eazy street rhythm, along with a lavishly pumped wind-down valedictory solo and cruising return to hard/pile-driving form. "Frozen Heart", too, despite encroaching itself on the plaster like a crow's foot print on drying cement, stands tall and proud, particularly for a power ballad of the sort, as it unequivocally ratchets up the sizzle and flare at a most stout and incremental, unwavering, steady pace - thus, until the silk gloves come off and the fisticuffs ensue by way of a mellifluously crooned, if not satisfactorily heart-rendering and nostalgic, envoy (reminiscent, say, of the Eagles' "Hotel California), succeeded, as well as topped, only by the twin ax men's languidly unfolding/super expressive lead foray, backed is it by a decidedly riveting backing guitar riff, rhythm section drop-out, and eventual rumbling and thumping "battery overload". The snazzy, 1950s-evoking, Chuck B. soloing midway in definitely thaws out the ole ticker after so many minutes of glacial, instrumentally clean meandering. Bookended as it by a swiftly accessible opener in "Heaven Can Wait" - Iron Maiden can eat it - and goomba-stomping heady rouser/AOR-ish, gang yawped, anthemic celebrator in "Midnight" (introduced by a short, befitting "Prelude"), Commander of Fate is certainly one for the (w)ages. Hell, as stated, even the extracurricular add-ons, "Hello America" and "Hot And Pretty", notably the former, with its wonkily engaging Billy Gibbons patterned lead, retain replay value as well thanks to their fare share of celeritously galloping, traveling chops. Once again, a rare chorus on "Hello America" wastes no time imprinting itself on the psyche. Plus, with such killer cover art, how could one not make a judicious pit-stop for Black Fate's Commander of Fate? Truly, this is a one-time wonder in every, best possible sense of the word. Glean or circle back to it when(ever) you can!