Thrash a labor of love for pioneering S.O.D.

He plays the riff with his knees bent, face screwed into a pained grimace suggestive of someone who has just stepped on a nail while barefoot.

And that's precisely how the riff is meant to be played.

It's a beast, ugly and seismic, the beginning of one of the signature chord progressions of '80s metal, and it reverberates through the small rehearsal space with the volume and menace of shotgun fire.

Guitarist Jeff Murphy lays it down, the opening of a rumbling "March of the S.O.D.," before bassist Gerry "Turbo" Proctor grits his teeth and joins in, followed by drummer Frank Klepacki, who leans into his kit so hard that his torso becomes parallel with the cymbals he periodically slashes at.

Finally, singer -- or shouter, in this context -- Dirk Vermin enters the fray, bellowing into the mic with such force that the blood rushes to his head, making his features flush and face turn a scarlet shade of rage.

"Life is just a one-way ticket, everyone must go around," he growls, Corona Light in hand. "Here's a bucket, go and kick it."

The song is "Kill Yourself," one of the opening salvos off of "Speak English or Die," the caustic, classic 1985 temper tantrum from pioneering crossover troupe S.O.D. (short for Stormtroopers of Death).

"It set the bar," Murphy says of the record's impact on the then-burgeoning thrash scene.

The album -- humorous, irreverent and defiantly un-P.C. -- was one of the first to merge metal riffs with hardcore vocals and punk's go-for-the-throat attitude.

"Back then, it was like, the punks were finally hearing metal the way it was meant to be," Proctor says. "All those walls are broken down now."

"It was the album that killed punk -- and good riddance," adds Vermin with a chuckle. "The lyrics were really tongue in cheek, they got the joke, they were having fun, nothing was off-limits. I still crack up when I hear it."

The album still sounds relevant today, especially when played by these dudes, who've dubbed themselves the Stormtroopers of Dirk, and who pay tribute to the record by playing it start to finish at special gigs once or twice annually (they'll do it again at the Double Down this Saturday night), which they've done for a couple of years now.

It's a labor of love for this bunch, who are all scene veterans who have been gigging in the same circles since the '80s. Hanging together on a recent Wednesday night, they supply their own laugh track to the evening, cracking each other up at everyone else's expense -- you know, just like S.O.D.

"We're all aware this is fun," Vermin says with a grin. "That's why we're smiling the whole time."

Contact reporter Jason Bracelin at jbracelin@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0476.