"Judas / Ride The Sky / Guardians" (1986) Album Description:
The Hook
Needle hits and the first thing that happens is a stupid little grin. Early HELLOWEEN does that. Speed with melody, no polite handshake, no “let me introduce myself,” just straight to the point like the band’s late for a train and the conductor is holding a whip.
Three tracks. One studio cut, two live. Small slab, loud personality. “Judas” up front like a jab to the collarbone, then “Ride the Sky” and “Guardians” on the flip, recorded live, sweating through the grooves. Main character energy, but with actual calluses.
The Era
1986 sits in my head like neon on wet pavement: Europe’s metal circuit humming, clubs packed, amps louder than good sense. West Germany was still West Germany, and you can feel that “build it yourself” vibe in the way records moved—hand to hand, shop to shop, bedroom to bedroom—like contraband that somehow became culture.
One dumb, very real detail always gives it away: the earliest issue reportedly had no barcode. That’s not “trivia.” That’s a time-stamp. That’s the record telling you it existed before anyone thought to scan it at a supermarket. Later copies got the stripes, sure. The first wave just stares back, unbothered. Lowkey flex.
The Genesis
Credit line says Helloween produced it themselves, which is the kind of decision that sounds brave until you remember it’s also exhausting. Control is nice. Control is also pressure. Nobody else was going to translate that speed without sanding it down.
“Judas” was recorded in July 1986 at Horus Sound Studio in Hannover, engineered and mixed by Jan Němec Bocek. That studio name shows up on enough feral German records that it starts feeling like a recurring character—quiet room, loud outcomes.
Then the scene flips: “Ride the Sky” and “Guardians” captured live on 7 June 1986 at Sportparadies, Gelsenkirchen, recorded by WDR Köln. That detail lands differently when you picture it: a public broadcaster rolling tape while a young band tries to outrun its own adrenaline. Not exactly cozy.
The Wax
“Judas” doesn’t stroll in. It lunges. Rhythm guitars clamp down, the kind of tightness that makes the room feel smaller, then the leads sprint past like they’ve got somewhere better to be. Clean enough to hear the decisions. Sharp enough to feel the edges. No cap, the track makes you lean forward even when you promise yourself you won’t.
Live side hits different. Air changes. You can almost smell the cables and warm beer. “Ride the Sky (Live)” feels like the band is playing slightly ahead of the moment, daring the drummer to catch up. “Guardians (Live)” keeps the same “hold on or get dragged” posture, less studio manners, more stage gravity.
One more wrinkle: “Judas” was re-mixed by Dirk Steffens for Soundhaus Studio. Remixing a single track like that always reads as stubbornness to me. Sometimes stubbornness is the only reason a record survives.
The Peer Review
This EP sits in a very specific Helloween corridor, and the walls are loud. Quick reference points around it:
“Judas / Ride The Sky / Guardians” lives between those poles like a hinge: still raw enough to bite, already reaching for that brighter power-metal lift. Some people prefer the later sheen. This middle moment? That’s my kind of mess.
The Friction
Page notes call this the only official Helloween recording during 1986, landing after Piet Sielck had left the band. That kind of line reads calm on paper and jittery in reality. A year with one official artifact usually means the band was moving parts around, trying to keep the engine from coughing.
Self-production plus a later remix is a tell. Not gossip. Just a pattern: the band hears something, doesn’t like what it implies, goes back in, changes the weather. Creative tension rarely shows up as a fistfight. More often it shows up as an extra pass at the same song because sleep is cheaper than regret.
The Legacy
Collector brain lights up fast here: Noise Records, Cat# N 0048, Made in Germany, and a physical presence—total weight noted as 230g. That number isn’t romance, but it does tell you the thing sits heavy in the hand. Which matters. Records are objects before they’re opinions.
Sleeve and label photos seal it because documentation is half the hobby, and this release photographs like it knows it’ll be hunted later. Value isn’t just rarity in 2026. Value is a moment where the band’s future still looks molten, still forming, still capable of going sideways. That uncertainty is the spice.
The Fade Out
Cardboard slides shut, the label disappears, and the silence after “Guardians” hangs there a second too long—like the room is deciding whether to put the needle back down or pretend it has plans.