Until just over one week ago I somehow still felt as if it was April, because my mind was so occupied with Roadburn Festival and its aftermath. Only at A Colossal Weekend I realized that time was actually moving on, not only because I was making many new live music memories, but also because I got several mails about new albums being released, which I had either pre-ordered or received a promo of long ago, always thinking: I'll write something about that later. There's still a lot of time, right?
Add other mailorder and merch table purchases and you'll see that an intimidating ton of stuff has accumulated on my to-do-list. Where to start catching up on all of this?
Well, I'll just begin with the grossest, filthiest shit!
GRAVE DESECRATOR - Immundissime Spiritus (2023)
They hail from Brazil, sport the stage names Butcherazor, Black Sin, Damnation and Mkult and play old school Blackened Death Metal. Wait! Is this a time capsule and Grave Desecrator are actually just an alter ego of early Sepultura or Sarcofago? No, that's not the case. But yes, it kind of also is.
Because these guys really honour all the traditions established by their predecessors including the washed-out cavernous sound, the vocals with way too much delay and the lyrics in probably painfully cringy English you are glad you can't even understand - and they lean into those clichés gloriously.
Ok, the part about the production needs clarification. Because there's one major difference which sets "Immundissime Spiritus" apart from Brazil's 1980's proto-Thrash/Death/Black Metal classics. Under a realistic closer look most most of the extreme stuff from that period soundwise is barely even listenable and just gets forgiven for its historic and nostalgic value. Grave Desecrator however maintain all the original ferocity and evilness - you won't here one single second of compromise on this album -, but you can still actually enjoy their album on headphones.
And to be absolutely honest about the lyrics: I haven't read them, so maybe they carry really deep philosophical insight about the inner and outer workings of the human condition. But let's be real: Not only are these songs called "Death Misery Ecstasy", "Occult Bewitchment" or "Rapists From the Cross", but Grave Desecrator also double down on their unhinged celebration of the sick, silly and unholy in Metal by covering acclaimed aesthete GG Allin's "Fuck The Dead". I rest my case.
Maybe I should also mention that the arrangements and musicianship on this album are really top-notch, but I'm not sure if these guys even want you to know that. One thing is for sure however: "Immundissime Spiritus" couldn't possibly be more addictive and pure, heretically headbanging fun!
Alongside Tilintetgjort's "In Death I Shall Arise" this is my most played, favorite Extreme Metal release of the year so far. Putrefying perfection!
Because these guys really honour all the traditions established by their predecessors including the washed-out cavernous sound, the vocals with way too much delay and the lyrics in probably painfully cringy English you are glad you can't even understand - and they lean into those clichés gloriously.
Ok, the part about the production needs clarification. Because there's one major difference which sets "Immundissime Spiritus" apart from Brazil's 1980's proto-Thrash/Death/Black Metal classics. Under a realistic closer look most most of the extreme stuff from that period soundwise is barely even listenable and just gets forgiven for its historic and nostalgic value. Grave Desecrator however maintain all the original ferocity and evilness - you won't here one single second of compromise on this album -, but you can still actually enjoy their album on headphones.
And to be absolutely honest about the lyrics: I haven't read them, so maybe they carry really deep philosophical insight about the inner and outer workings of the human condition. But let's be real: Not only are these songs called "Death Misery Ecstasy", "Occult Bewitchment" or "Rapists From the Cross", but Grave Desecrator also double down on their unhinged celebration of the sick, silly and unholy in Metal by covering acclaimed aesthete GG Allin's "Fuck The Dead". I rest my case.
Maybe I should also mention that the arrangements and musicianship on this album are really top-notch, but I'm not sure if these guys even want you to know that. One thing is for sure however: "Immundissime Spiritus" couldn't possibly be more addictive and pure, heretically headbanging fun!
Alongside Tilintetgjort's "In Death I Shall Arise" this is my most played, favorite Extreme Metal release of the year so far. Putrefying perfection!
THE SHITS - You're A Mess (2023)
So you like your filthy smacking a little less necromantical and desecrating? Something more down to earth and real?
Down to earth as being forced to rub gobs of snot into your face from the curb with a boot in your neck? As real as getting The Shits on that infamous nightmare bowl from Trainspotting? Not in Scotland though. Is Leeds, England close enough?
If you've been at The Spark (the official pre-Roadburn warm-up night) or at least have read my report about it, you'll know what flavour of dirt awaits you on "You're A Mess".
The Shits murdered Psychedelic Rock, wrapped its skin around a heavy bat with Crust spikes and powerglued this weapon to the unwashed hands of a rabid Punk on cold cocaine turkey. It's like Rocket Recordings took a look at their roster and said: Temple Ov BBV, Gnod, Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs, that's all fine and crushing and politically aware, but doesn't it miss the sensation of a drunk bloke waking you up in the middle of the night, burping into your face and peeing onto the rug that holds your room together?
We're all hideous assholes, "Ugly, Worthless", alone. We're a bludgeoned mess, waiting in the hotel room of life for nothing. We also regret nothing though, because this is all meaningless bollocks anyway.
The Shits just hold up a mirror and smash it on us. Again and again. This album is the soundtrack to which we pull out the shards and splinters. It's a bloody mess.
Damn, look behind you! Sorry that you were distracted by reading this, but someone just drew penisses on your Stooges records!
Down to earth as being forced to rub gobs of snot into your face from the curb with a boot in your neck? As real as getting The Shits on that infamous nightmare bowl from Trainspotting? Not in Scotland though. Is Leeds, England close enough?
If you've been at The Spark (the official pre-Roadburn warm-up night) or at least have read my report about it, you'll know what flavour of dirt awaits you on "You're A Mess".
The Shits murdered Psychedelic Rock, wrapped its skin around a heavy bat with Crust spikes and powerglued this weapon to the unwashed hands of a rabid Punk on cold cocaine turkey. It's like Rocket Recordings took a look at their roster and said: Temple Ov BBV, Gnod, Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs, that's all fine and crushing and politically aware, but doesn't it miss the sensation of a drunk bloke waking you up in the middle of the night, burping into your face and peeing onto the rug that holds your room together?
We're all hideous assholes, "Ugly, Worthless", alone. We're a bludgeoned mess, waiting in the hotel room of life for nothing. We also regret nothing though, because this is all meaningless bollocks anyway.
The Shits just hold up a mirror and smash it on us. Again and again. This album is the soundtrack to which we pull out the shards and splinters. It's a bloody mess.
Damn, look behind you! Sorry that you were distracted by reading this, but someone just drew penisses on your Stooges records!
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