Virgins beware! Though Lords of the Trident breaks out some sick guitar riffs and intense lyrics, the group pre-warns innocent maidens of the violent deflowering that will certainly ensue by listening to their new album, Death or Sandwich.

“Don’t let your girlfriends near Lords of the Trident, ’cause our music is guaranteed to make panties explode,” the band says.

What is left to question is whether their music really results in loss of chastity or bursting pink thongs.

A recently emerged metal group, Lords of the Trident blends 1980s metal with contemporary influences and an avant-garde outlook on musicianship. To say this first album is unconventional would be quite an understatement. A cross between Spinal Tap, Tenacious D and a “World of Warcraft” crusade, the Lords pack their breakout album with fierce drumming, complicated guitar solos and the “oh-so-clich?” screaming and groaning that accompanies most heavy metal.

Oozing with rampant disorder and hellish ferocity, the album is not meant for the faint of heart. Songs like “Rapeshore” are sure to — well, putting it bluntly — scare the shit out of the “easy listener.” “Rapeshore” opens with violent strumming and drumming as Fang, the lead singer, comes in with “You think you’re safe walking by yourself/ I’m watching you through gilded woods/ Even though you’re crying tears, no one hears you scream.” What could be controversial lyrics are sure to attract some (most likely your average campus stalker lurking in his dark and musty lair. Rape, pillaging and eternal damnation seem to be the fuel for the Lords’ first attempt at music making.

The ravishing of modest maidens is the driving force behind the album. The song “Virgin Vault” reveals the looming attack on the few uncorrupted, virtuous girls left in the world. No virgin will be spared.

However, the lustful ripping of chastity is not the only blood coursing through the veins of Death or Sandwich. Some meaningful tracks do appear, but sparsely. “Heart in the Fire” refers to going the distance for love, advising the listener to “Take a chance/ Don’t try to tame desire/ You know that you’re the one.”

Though the forceful instrumentation and violent lyrics spark a certain intrigue at first listen, the album is lacking in any actual musicianship. The lead singer has no real vocal ability. Yes, he can scream with the best of them, but when stripped of his incessant wailing, any attempt to actually carry a tune falls flat (and sharp).

In the end, the Lords leave the listener wanting. Aside from commendable guitar skills, the band has little hope of reaching elite status. However, whether stardom is their goal is under question. Lords of the Trident’s self-composed biography seems like a complete joke, depicting band members as a volcanic creation, Asian-metal samurai, evil pirate captain or creepy cyborg. The band’s obsession with virgins, castles and demons is dripping with sarcasm and jest. It is hard to know whether to be deeply disturbed or to simply laugh at this utter folly. Whether this hell-driven band is truly following Spinal Tap’s footsteps as a semi-fictional ensemble or is actually serious in its absurd and demonic music, one thing is for sure: There will be no need to worry about any exploding panties.

2 stars out of 5.