It might be tempting for some people to argue that if Black Sabbath hadn’t created metal, someone else would have; or, worse still, that Black Sabbath didn’t create metal, but just the natural end of a lineage that started with artists like Led Zep, Deep Purple, Jimi Hendrix and their ilk. But that’s nonsense. There can be little doubt that Sabbath was certainly influenced by those predecessors, but the situation surrounding a key component of what Sabbath did – namely, tune their instruments way the fuck down to get that deep, evil sound we all know and love – was came about due to such a specific set of circumstances, it is entirely fair to argue that if Tony Iommi had never lost pieces of a few fingers in a factory accident, if he hadn’t had to tune his guitar way down just so he could bend the strings, well, metal as we know might not exist at all. Of course, there are other elements to Sabbath and metal that go beyond Iommi’s guitar sound, but would Ozzy Osbourne’s bleak lyrical world view or the band’s foreboding imagery really have fit with the world’s umpteenth Led Zep rip-off? Black Sabbath were ostensibly a happy accident – a mixture of right time/right place luck and a strong artistic vision. Without Sabbath, I might very well never have started writing for a site called MetalSucks under the name “Axl Rosenberg,” but, rather, for a site called Hip-HopisWhack under the name “Ice Berg.” To some extent or another, Black Sabbath is the reason we are all here.

Which is exactly why they have the top spot on this list.

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I’m not some demented ingrate, so I understand the reluctance of many fans to call bullshit on Metallica. After all, for a metal listener in the ‘80s, there was no discussion of the best or the most influential band: Metallica and Metallica. What was the standard to which all metal bands were held? Metallica. Which metal band commanded the biggest stages before the hugest crowds? Metallica. Whose records had the best covers? Metallica. Whose members exuded mystique (no videos!) and uncommon friendliness (marathon autograph sessions following marathon shows)? Metallica. Baddest singer? Metallica. Awesomest riffs? Metallica. Most importantly, the best music? Metallica!

Okay, fine, that didn’t last forever; one day, Metallica was gone and replaced by four anybodys singing flat, non-committal butt-rock songs about scary nightmares and wuving your girlfwend. What a bummer. But it’s really no crime. Sure, it is the representation of a pathetic longing to be liked by every living being (not to be all Varg), but even so, a great Metallica record of any type would’ve overcome suspect motivations. Regardless, the repercussions of Metallica as jock jammers go beyond a few cruddy albums and some disappointed fans of thrash metal. Mostly, it’s just a shame that Hetfield and co. were no fucking good at hard rock.

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If Rage Against the Machine were the bridge between rap, metal and the mainstream, then Faith No More were their unwitting forefathers, planting the mental seeds in a generation of alternative rockers who grew up on heavy music that, yes, you COULD make a palatable pop song from rhymed spoken words and metal riffs.

But where Rage Against the Machine made every rhyme and riff a part of their rap-metal identity, Faith No More stumbled upon it by accident, and only made it one small part of their diverse sound. Oh, Mike Patton meant to rap and wasn’t doing it in jest; there’s no doubt about that. But Patton never really intended (we can only assume) to make rap-metal a part of the band’s identity. Faith No More experimented with everything under the sun; rapping, singing, metal riffs, catchy pop hooks, scatting, crooning, lounge songs… all there. That a million shitty bands who followed chose to latch on to the fact that Patton rapped over rock music instead of the fact that he was/is an insanely talented, multi-faceted vocalist, or that the band executed everything with startling perfection… well, totally not their fault.

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We accidentally published this one early a couple of weeks ago. If you’ve already read it, well, read it again. And if not, hey, great! Read it now! – Eds.

If you weren’t there, you may have only heard how Pantera was the only metal band that mattered in the new, joyless ’90s Alternative Nation. If you didn’t know better, you may discount that fact with evidence that by then every good metal band went missing or to shit, so to reign atop that turdpile is no accomplishment. In analysis, you could point out that Pantera practiced cautious image control after their laughable start, careful to resemble no thrash metal band in appearance or message. The former was grunge-acceptable (flannel alert!) and the latter alternated between vague metalisms (Cowboys), macho hardcore effrontery (Vulgar), and woe-is-me horseshit (Driven, Trendkill). All of which combined to allow Pantera to qualify on a technicality as an acceptable post-Cobain band, at least until they made a doomed return to feel-good metal (the incredible Reinventing The Steel).

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At the Gates recorded two albums of disruptive, grind-influenced Swedish death metal before they found the sound that would launch a thousand shitty metal bands. Beginning with their third album Terminal Spirit Disease, and climaxing with their stunning swansong Slaughter of the Soul, At the Gates melodicized brutality (and brutalized melody) with heretofore-unmatched cohesion. While the band developed their harmonically pleasing sound at the same time that Gothenburg compatriots In Flames and Dark Tranquillity were honing similarly tuneful death metal aesthetics, it was At the Gates that arguably stayed truest to the filthy spirit of underground death metal. This, even as Slaughter of the Soul yielded minor MTV hits and was nominated for a Swedish Grammy. Un-dissonant and streamlined as the album is, Slaughter of the Soul’s guitar tone is just beastly, and every aspect of its execution, from Adrian Erlandsson’s rock steady thrash oompah to Tomas Lindberg’s iconic roar, seethes with conviction. And my god, the songs – by career’s end, At the Gates were churning out compact three-minute death metal classics as if by will. As their song structures got less complicated, At the Gates’s mastery of “melodeath” became ever more apparent. The band secured their place in heavy metal Valhalla by disbanding on a high note.

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I will always remember the first time I heard Killswitch Engage. I was fifteen years old watching MTV after school when I saw the music video for “The End of Heartache.” [Our intern is a baby!!! - Ed.] Hearing that combination of melodic singing and big thick riffs just hooked me to the sound. All I wanted was to hear more of it, and Killswitch was happy to oblige. Since its inception in 1999, the band has been one of the best in the business at writing top notch metalcore songs.

When you have the man-sized balls, like the ones that allow Jesse Leach and Howard Jones to sing and not sound like pussies, and mix that with some catchy Swedish-style riffs, you have a metal recipe for success. Alive or Just Breathing and The End of Heartache are landmark records that set the tone for metalcore.

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There are a handful of bands that I can say changed my fucking life. Nine Inch Nails are one such band. As a prematurely jaded adolescent, I’d been introduced to the violent industrial metal of the Broken EP and was intrigued. I bought the CD-single for “March Of The Pigs” the week it came out, and played it on repeat on my all-in-one stereo as well as in my Discman. The Downward Spiral hit stores the following month, and I eagerly snatched it up. Then fascinated with serial killers and true crime legends like Charles Manson, reports that the album was recorded in Sharon Tate’s house immediately grabbed me. But the music was more than mere gimmickry. I heard sounds I’d never encountered before, abrasive metal that didn’t come across as chauvinistic or boneheaded. Poring over Trent Reznor’s lyrics with the type of passionate attention only a teenager can, I connected with his rage, depression, and lust. Moreso than any other band before, I felt that I had found in Nine Inch Nails a band that I could get behind in a big way. Little did I know that their imminent success would spawn some of the most pathetic imitators, wannabes, and clowns ever to “grace” hard rock and metal with their presence.

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“Black Sabbath,” the first song off the first album by Black Sabbath, Black Sabbath, perfectly drew up the blueprint for metal. It was gloomy, disturbing, and fucking HEAVY. It was music for outsiders, those ranging from annoyed to enraged at having to exist on the fringes of society because they were too fat/lanky/socially retarded to listen to Three Dog Night and get laid all the time. Eights years later — almost to the day — Van Halen released their eponymous debut. “Runnin’ With the Devil,” that album’s first song, is also heavy in its own right, but the near-decade length of time between the two couldn’t be more apparent. While its one-note bassline and massive riff was undeniably fucking great, it wasn’t dark anymore. In fact, it was kind of fun and incredibly catchy. It was pop music with heavy guitars.

Suddenly, things were different. Metal wasn’t frightening anymore, but a good time, and inviting. It wasn’t just for weird guys and bad girls, but for regular, well-adjusted guys and not-just-regular but pretty girls. Van Halen were unquestionably heavy on their debut, and the album was filled with songs that were not only catchy, but perhaps some of the best-crafted in rock thus far. It sold a shit-ton of copies, and metal slowly moved from being dangerous to being a blast for the better part of a decade.

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When it comes to mixing rap and metal there were obviously bands that did it before Rage Against the Machine, but those bands shouldn’t be credited/blamed for fucking up metal as much as Rage Against the Machine did for the following reasons:

1. They did it on a one-off basis instead of making a career of it.
2. They precipitated the rap metal fad by way too many years to be considered true progenitors.
3. They didn’t do it nearly as fucking well.

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The old cliché goes that genius is the very simple idea that, for whatever reason, no one has ever had before. Assuming that’s true, then Cannibal Corpse are the Albert Einsteins of metal. For these dudes were not, at the beginning, great musicians. They were just some kids from Buffalo who basically listened to thrash and said “We wanna do that, but make it even heavier and more evil-sounding.” And so they did. And simple though it seems (Tomb of the Mutilated might be considered quaint if it were released today) Cannibal Corpse – particularly the original line-up of vocalist Chris Barnes, bassist Alex Webster, drummer Paul Mazurkiewicz, and guitarists Jack Owen and Bob Rusay – are undeniably one of the most influential bands in all of metal history. They are one of the key creators of death metal as we know it. As though he felt the words to Slayer’s “Angel of Death” just weren’t violent enough, Barnes practically invented pure gore as lyrical fodder; he also reinvented his craft (if you can call making it sound like your lungs are having violent diarrhea a “craft”). Producer Scott Burns, who was basically the sixth member of the band for years, obviously deserves his share of the credit for their accomplishments, too. Basically, if you’ve ever enjoyed to pretty much any death metal song ever, you probably owe Cannibal Corpse a handjob.

And that, of course, is precisely the problem.

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Which is exactly what it sounds like: ten incredible metal bands, all of whom accidentally started horrible trends, inspired leagues of untalented followers, and basically screwed up the music we all love.

We’ll count down one band a day for ten days starting this afternoon. In the meantime, feel free to start arguing about which bands do or do not belong on this list in the comments section below… like you needed an invitation.

-Axl, Vince, and Everyone at MetalSucks