In Season 11 of The Simpsons, the infamous episode whereby Homer buys a Harley-Davidson and joins a biker gang called "Hell's Satans," Marge expresses dismay when Homer prints the following about her in "This Month's Cycle Slut"- "Her turn ons include thievery and liquor; her turn-offs include underpants, pedestrians and justice." While Chilean thrash-punk band HELL'S SATANS probably aren't robbing liquor stores in their underpants, there is a strong sense of heavy metal justice that permeates the 35 minutes of fun on their self-titled debut record. It's a record that exudes positive rock and roll energy, even the lyrical topics dive down into the darkened side of human existence. According to their press release, the band plays with "a lot of power and energy" and "the best thing is that it is in Spanish."  The great thing about heavy metal, I think we'd all agree, is it doesn't matter what language you speak.  All I remember from high school is donde esta el bano and me gusta jugar al baloncesto, and I'm sure I fucked those up as well. But I don't need to backpack through Central America for three months to understand that Hell's Satan has invited all of us to their rocking party, and we're all gonna leave covered in sweat and kicking every pedestrian we see in the barrio in their balls.

The album gets off to a rousing, up-tempo start with screaming guitars and Patricio Cruz's unique, snarling, nasal vocals, as if he's just done a massive line off the porcelain top of a toilet. The bass and drums rattle and roll, the album crashing from song to song like the bodies in the basement of an all-ages six-bands-for-free keg party, circa 1987. There's an allegiance to the South American and northern California thrash bands of the past, as well as a healthy dose of unapologetic punk rock.  Fourth song "Suenos Oscuros" finds the band flailing into a gloriously sloppy old school thrash rampage, with Cruz letting the vocals rip as the dual guitars of Eduardo Mariman and Nicolas Layana trade Slayer-like stabs at heavy metal triumph. The next song "Hell's Satans" is the kind of victorious, steel-toed stomp into the pit that makes all metal pin the Joker-like smile to your face.  And any band that has the balls to name a song after the band deserves all the horns up you can throw their way.

This debut album from Chile is the sun's sheen off the edge of the sharpened blade, blinding your eyes and chasing you into Moe's tavern for a cold pint of Duff.  Chances are you'll find these five proud Spanish-screaming thrashers on a make-shift stage in a sea of hair and sweat, barking at you unintelligibly as you try and lift Barney Gumble's fat ass over your shoulders in an ill attempt at stage-diving. If you're looking for a fun 35 minutes of stupidly glorious metal, look no further than HELL'S SATANS.