Beast In Black - Berserker (LP) - Transparent Orange Vinyl

I first heard Berserker the way it should be heard, cranked a little too loud in a Melbourne record store while the staff argued about which chorus was the biggest. Beast In Black arrived with a point to prove, and this debut, released in November 2017 on Nuclear Blast, still feels like a triumphant opening salvo. Guitarist and songwriter Anton Kabanen formed the band after leaving Battle Beast, and you can hear the clarity of his vision across these tracks. He leans into high-gloss power metal, but he isn’t shy about wiring in Italo-disco and Eurobeat synths, so the riffs punch and the keyboards gleam. The result is catchy as hell without losing bite.

If you only know one thing about Berserker, it’s probably Blind and Frozen. The single and its video introduced Greek vocalist Yannis Papadopoulos to the wider metal world, and what a calling card. He soars into the stratosphere with a clean, ringing tone that stays precise even at nosebleed heights. The chorus lodges in your brain after one spin, and the arrangement leaves room for the melody to really fly. It’s not just sugar either. The guitars hit hard, and the rhythm section locks into that classic gallop that makes you want to move, even if you’re just flicking through crates.

Kabanen has always worn his love of Kentaro Miura’s Berserk on his sleeve, and the band’s name is a giveaway. This album doubles down on it with lyrics that nod to the manga’s universe. The title track Beast in Black barrels forward with a heroic sheen, summoning that doomed-romantic energy the series thrives on. Zodd the Immortal goes full-on battle mode, all sharp edges and flashing steel. Even if you’ve never cracked a volume of the manga, the sense of myth is obvious, but it never lapses into clunky concept-album territory. The songs work first as songs, with hooks that feel built for massive festival fields.

What separates Berserker from a lot of modern power metal is its unashamed love of pop structures. Verses are lean, pre-choruses lift, and when the choruses arrive they actually pay off. The synth leads mirror the vocals in all the right moments, then step back to let the guitars chew through a riff. It’s an old-school skill set, updated with contemporary gloss. Kabanen’s writing keeps things tight and focused, so even the most theatrical moments feel earned. And while the record is polished, it never tips into sterile. There’s a live-wire energy that hints at the sweat and volume of the stage.

The players deliver across the board. Alongside Kabanen, guitarist Kasperi Heikkinen brings that sleek, melodic precision you expect from a veteran of the European scene, and Hungarian bassist Máté Molnár anchors everything with tasteful lines that support the choruses without crowding them. The production gives Papadopoulos the spotlight he deserves, but it’s not a vocal-only show. When the solos arrive, they sing. When the drums push into a double-kick sprint, you feel the air move.

As a debut, Berserker does exactly what you want. It sets a tone, announces a personality, and leaves you wanting the next hit. It also travels well on the turntable. The sheen and those bold synth colours feel made for vinyl, where the low end can breathe and the choruses open up. If you’re chasing Beast In Black vinyl, this is the logical starting point, and Berserker vinyl pops up often enough that you won’t need to sell the car. For collectors who like to buy Beast In Black records online, keep an eye on European pressings, though local shops in Australia have been good at keeping it in rotation. If you’re digging through vinyl records Australia wide, this is the sort of record that jumps out from the rack purely on sleeve presence, then wins you over by track two.

Berserker also works as a handy bridge for listeners who drift between classic metal and synth-laced pop. It’s heavy enough to scratch the itch if you grew up on Painkiller, yet catchy enough to sit alongside your neon-lit 80s favourites. That balance is tricky, and it’s why Beast In Black albums on vinyl tend to get a workout at home. You pull it out for one track, then let the whole side run because it flows.

Six years and several tours later, Berserker still feels like a confident mission statement. It’s the sound of a songwriter doubling down on the things he loves and finding the right voice to carry them. Spin it loud, preferably with friends who appreciate a chorus that can split the sky.