After four releases, Behrman has fully grown into his signature sound: a half-spoken, half-sung, effortlessly cool vocal delivery; an honest, soul-searching lyrical approach; and a musical style that is as warm & melodic as it is cool & modern. Working with one of the best music producers in the business, Matt Chiaravalle, and a superb cast of musicians (Howard Alper on drums, Matthew Jacob Dougherty on bass, Rob Clores on keyboards, Danielle McCullough on backing vocals, and the legendary Uptown Horns), Behrman had everything he needed in place to really go for it and make the record he envisioned in his head. I would describe If Heaven Didn’t Hurt as a really chill, easy-like-Sunday-morning kind of record. These songs don’t try to hammer you over the head; they build atmosphere and warmly invite you in. “They Won’t Take Us Alive,” a bona fide anthem, forms the most direct line to Behrman’s punk roots. Elsewhere, the powerful & profound “Ain’t It Funny” is a moody rocker meets infectious R & B jam. “Take a Little More Time” and “Bitter Town Blues” are smooth and jazzy. “Pink Cocaine” is primo hipster disco that couldn’t be any more New York if it tried. “Every Motherfucker She Sees” is funky blue-eyed soul and a real standout. Closing track “After the Ramblin’ Is Done” is Behrman’s finest ballad yet — a stunning, ethereal number that brings a gentle but deeply felt finality to an absolutely tremendous album.
A semi-autobiographical rock album of linked song-stories inspired by the heyday of big screen New York is certainly the kind of thing I’d be into. When Lorne Behrman arrived as a solo artist back in 2021, it was as if he had found an instant identity as a singer and songwriter. He has never needed to search for his place in the underground music scene. What he has done is build on his style. If his previous releases weren’t for you, If Heaven Didn’t Hurt won’t be either. But if you liked his first two albums, you’re going to love this one — an even better version of those prior efforts. I love songwriters who aspire to make art, and this album is absolutely a work of art. It’s sophisticated and thoughtful as it spins relatable tales of desperation and redemption. Yet it never comes off as pretentious or bloated (even the longest tracks barely cross three-and-a-half minutes). This is a soulful, deeply human record. All of that stellar production and amazing musicianship are there strictly to serve the songs, and it’s Behrman’s words and voice that remain front and center. This is not some sideman cosplaying as a lead artist. This is one of the most exceptional songwriters in our world doing what he was always meant to do. He’s on one heck of a creative roll, and we are fortunate to be privy to it.
For their part, Destruction had quite an interesting launch to 1987. The band made a big enough splash with their debut EP and two subsequent full-lengths to land a number of significant tours, but just as things really got cooking in late ‘86, founding member / pummeler Tommy “Sandman” Senmann saw the writing on the wall (pending military duties and an itch to find a profession beyond drumming) and made the difficult decision to lay his sticks to rest. Following a brief fill-in period with Sodom’s Witchhunter (R.I.P.) behind the kit to help with touring, the band ushered in Oliver “Olly” Kaiser as a permanent replacement (previously a jazz and funk drummer… say whaaa?), along with a second guitarist in Henry Wilkens to strengthen their live sound and reinforce Destruction’s decision to move in a more technical direction. Boom: Out wriggled the Mad Butcher EP in March of ’87, showcasing a far more complex framework that lifted the band well beyond graveyard promo photos and any ties to the proto-black metal movement.
Suffice to say, it’s understandable that there’s really very little middle ground as far as reactions to this cover art are concerned. Is it the most awful image you could imagine hitting a cover in the ‘80s? Yeah. Yeah, maybe just a bit. Most of us were already familiar with horrific and strange metal imagery, thanks in part to Celtic Frost’s connection to H.R. Giger, but Luetke’s vision (designed by a fellow named Guido Glöckler) was just… next level strange. Comprehensive oddness aside, even four decades later I still find myself lost as to why the creature: 1) is missing a finger on the left hand, 2) Doesn’t have eyelids, and 3) Has such a terrible skin problem around that ruined nose. In short, the cover still creeps me the fuck out, but there’s no question that it did the job of catching eyes, and it definitely managed to match the overall oddness of the record to boot. Bottom line: Regardless of which end of the love or hate spectrum you happen(ed) to fall, it’s fair to say Luetke’s artwork here is ICONIC.
Not to take away from the power Tommy provided on the band’s early works, but newcomer Olly and his more elaborate approach to augmenting the overall punch clearly had an immediate impact. And Harry’s added presence absolutely upped the ‘tangled energy’ quota that helped make the full ride feel just as demented as the album’s cover. What I appreciate the most about Release from Agony, though—something a song like “Dissatisfied Existence” etches in steel early on—is how absolutely ALIEN the record sounds, even four decades later. (Especially four decades later? Like, how is that possible, given all that’s happened since.) That tangled energy has a lot to do with it, making many of the songs sound a bit like 
Destruction toured untiringly with Release from Agony in their back pockets, hitting Europe and the U.S. countless times alongside all the greats of an era that prefaced the death metal explosion of the early ‘90s. Sometime in late ’89, though, the band sort of… self-destructioned, firing Schmier amidst the recording of Cracked Brain, an album that featured Poltergeist frontman André Grieder behind the mic. As it happens, some consider Cracked Brain to be the true pinnacle of Destruction’s tech thrash face, but I’ve always felt it was a bit uneven and lacking that requisite ‘eccentricity’ that makes Release from Agony really stand out. Plus, it has one of the worst covers I’ve ever heard on a metal record—The Knack’s “My Sharona”—and for some bloody reason it’s placed smack-dab in the middle of the record (the end of side A), which fully derails all momentum.
