Fancy getting pummeled into paste by some scabrous death-crust? Me too! Fancy that…
Doomsday pound away at you like a horny drunkard until you give in, squeal and enjoy it.
Then and only then, when you are slavering for more, do they finally let up and, having deflowered you, show you their atmospheric skillzzz.
He stumbled from the shadows, blinking, rubbing his eyes. They were red-rimmed with black hammocks slung beneath them like scars of lost time.
Shambling into the light, the hunched figure muttered and twitched as he repeatedly jamming his fingers in his ears. This involuntary rummaging dislodged flakes of dried blood that fell like rusty snowflakes only to catch in his stubble.
The freshly-showered and laundered commuter crowd parted easily around him as if subconsciously aware of the foreign body in its midst, slipping him through with nothing but a few sideways glances to hinder him.
Those close enough to hear the murmuring from his cracked lips could make out the simple mantra, “Black Breath, fucking hell”, repeated again and again.
OK, so I am about a billion years late with this but there’s a new Black Breath album teaser floating about called Mother Abyss.
Press play and you can hear for yourself but if you can’t be arsed, here is an approximation of the decimation in puny verbiage.
- Revving motorbike engine thrash riffs.
- More pounding and dense than before.
- Less crust, more thrash
- Their trademark groove is less obvious
- The infectious flourishes haven’t been entirely sheared off though
- A particularly impressive sustained screams brings the song to a climax.
- It’s definitely decent but doesn’t hold a candle to anything off Razor to Oblivion or Heavy Breathing.
Enough with the bullet points already.
The new Black Breath album Sentenced to Life drops on Southern Lord on March 27 and is engineered by King Midas of guitar tone himself Kurt Ballou.
They best not let me down or I might give them a bit of a dirty look at their April 2 gig. Yeah, that’ll show ’em.
Autopsy will forever be the key that deciphered for me the unfathomable joys of death metal.
So as a big fan of Mental Funeral but not so much their other albums, I was intrigued to lay my hands on their latest Peaceville release All Tomorrow’s Funerals.
This 22-track double monster compiles and remasters out-of-print EPs Retribution for the Dead and Fiend for Blood along with comeback single and subsequent EP Horrific Obsession and The Tomb Within.
If that wasn’t enough for you greedy bastards, they have garnished the feast with four new songs.
Fancy some murky death metal sir? Served on a bed of filth with a side salad of utter grot?
Well, if you put it like that, how could I possibly resist?
Speed demons or sweet feelings. The great gamut of music boiled down to that binary definition for most of 2011.
Music had only two roles: to put fire in my belly or smooth my furrowed brow.
I’m not cut out for new fatherhood, even second time around. My synapses need more help than ever to fire and my cranium is forever creaking, aching.
This list – my top 10 albums of 2011 – reflects this.
No black metal, no doom. Neither hip-hop, post-metal nor bass fuckery. Just various blends of death metal, crust and hardcore, preferably with that heartstarting Sunlight tone, or the polar opposite: the pastoral, the dreamy.