The Shrine Rare Breed Century Media Whether playing in God's band in heaven or reigning over a respectable vat of boiling sinners from his throne in Hell, Lemmy Kilmister will be pleased to hear this third-ish new album by the Shrine, which proves his legacy of no-nonsense heavy metal is secure! But in art, you have to kill your father. Here, the Shrine have not changed the formula: 70s style blistering guitar assault on songs you can't wait to hear live, head-banging riffs that will make you want to carve a pentagram into our desk, and hooks as addictive as the drugs Josh Landau sings about his protagonists using. But they take things further than even Motorhead ever dreamed of—or even Shrine fans of a few years ago might have expected. This recording isn't full of frills, but you can tell time was put into nailing every little lead lick and echo-y ending. This is no small feat—listen to studio albums by some of the great bands from the Invaders comp of the early-mid aughts, ground