What would you do if you were an editor of a magazine who has to write a review about yet another heavy metal album which seems boring from the very first second? Well, in general, one would try to sort his impressions. One would give the album a second, third or even a fourth chance and then try to showcase positive aspects. After a while the rating would rise and fall to about 6 points, having in mind that it “ain’t that bad, after all”. Then one would write a review like any other, too, send it to the chief editoress and everything would be fine. Yeah – and the CD would end up rotting in the basement, burning in the fireplace or even in ones stomach – dunno. On a private level, almost all of us buy CDs quite different from the ones we usually get to review, don’t we? Well, sometimes, I guess. But not in this very special case, as an important key event led me to think in a different way. While listening to the CD Apocalipsis by TIERRA SANTA, friends of mine came for a visit. One of them told me “Oh fuck, what’s that? That’s rotten, dude!”. His honesty made me feel weird, I had to gasp. For a moment I thought about it, and then I somehow felt a tickling in my fingertips and was unbelievably motivated to dare an experiment. I wanted to express my feelings while listening to the CD just as intensively as my visitors and utilize elements of the absurd and surreal. Well, let’s go “in medias res”. Imagine it’s the beginning of august, a hot summer day. The sun burns from the sky; we see piles of sand and huge bare brickwork still supported by scaffolding. Wooden boards lie on the soil, the air flickers and cars driving by whirl up dust. On the third level of the carcass there are Carlo and José, two Latin building workers. The air is too hot to breathe and it stinks from the rotting fat rising up from the remainders of the small sausages the two roasted themselves on the hood of their Honda Civic. They are sweating like pigs while their golden torsos are busy stonewalling. A dirty, dusty CD player which used to be blue but turned white and grey during the years is located in the corner and receives its energy from an even less hygienic cable drum by the brand “CrackleFox”. A purple triangle made of glass hangs from the ceiling. Nobody knows how it got there – and nobody cares. Suddenly the CD player starts playing the first song (named Neron) from the CD Apocalipsis by TIERRA SANTA. We hear shattering Spanish vocals, with rolling R’s and unbelievably forceful, a bit like a metal version of one of those Eros Ramazotti look-alikes. TIERRA SANTA, tells us a black-dressed shape standing in a dark niche, “means holy earth”, and asks us whether we knew that before. “No”, we answer honestly, “should we? We always thought it meant ‘Iron Maiden”’. That doesn’t seem to please the mysterious silhouette, as it strikes us to pudding with a club of iron with adhesive Iron Maiden CDs and tells us that the actual punishment for our lack of knowledge is still to come. Just at this moment a bell made of reinforced concrete rings. With last strength we throw it into a puddle in the centre of the room, in order to prevent the situation from escalating, but it’s already too late. Carlo again switches on the CD and roasting guitars start going down on us. We state that we already know each song by heart although we’ve been listening to it only for the second time now. Is that a good omen? The guitar solos sound somewhat cloned and the purple triangle starts to wiggle. Carlo moves up to José, takes off his trousers and all we can see is a dark-brown leather tanga. Blue lightning appears in the centre of the room, it twitches. José starts singing eagerly, he’s hero tenor mixes under the growling of the cement mix machine, a whistling is added. Now in every corner of the room there is a black cloaked guy with a scythe. To the sounds of the 3:33 minutes long title track Apocalipsis Carlo starts molesting and abusing his team mate’s behind. We cry and try to escape, but we can’t. We are in the middle of the room and our legs are chained to the floor. After the 50s repetition of the chorus the purple triangle falls from the ceiling, its peak drilling trough our head. We are released from the pain and illuminated. And you? Now probably any of you knows what this CD sounds like. If not, look at my rating or listen to it. I guess there are some people out there who like this kind of music. I don’t.