“Swedish goofballs Birdflesh return with another fun, uproarious and colorful explosion of old school grind on their sixth LP, Sickness in the North. The veteran trio smash out the follow-up to 2019’s thoroughly enjoyable, Extreme Graveyard Tornado, and all is good in the grind world.” Birds of a feather grind together.
“You don’t know shit until you read this. It’s not opinion; it’s science.”
Saunders and Felagund demand to have their Top Ten(ish) lists heard across the land. We obliged.
“Lovable gorehounds Exhumed return after a three-year recording gap, feeling rather nostalgic as they celebrate their lengthy history, bringing back old cattle into the writing process, and musically, continuing the throwback trend of previous album, Horror. Since picking up the gore metal baton fumbled by idols Carcass on Swansong, Exhumed carved a remarkably consistent career. While lovingly inspired by the English legends, Exhumed were never content with mimicry.” Huzzah to the ripper.
“Over the years, I’ve come to realize that death metal is more about the visceral reaction that your body and mind have to a barbaric aural bludgeoning than it is about memorability, and I’ve thus come to enjoy entire albums full of quality metal of the dead variety. But every once in a while, a death metal band comes along with the apparent intent of providing that same visceral journey while simultaneously providing riff after memorable riff, a host of unforgettable solos, and enough stylistic changeups to keep the listener on their toes. California’s Vrenth is just such a band.” Death with life.
“Someone forgot to put the surgical steel away, so Consumption grabbed it and started cutting. On Necrotic Lust, Hákan Stuvemark of Wombbath applies his gift for blending the heavy and the catchy to an album of straight-up Carcass-core. These nine symphonies of sickness aren’t trying to hide their debt to the English masters of grinding death metal; the promo copy makes the connection explicit, and Jeff Walker himself takes over lead vocals on “Ground Into Ash and Coal.” The band exists somewhere on the Gruesome Continuum–they’re willing to flirt with tribute act status if that means they can pump out new variations on the jams that inspired them.” Necrofanciers unite.
“In The Beyond, Italian director Lucio Fulci’s second film in what’s commonly referred to as the “Gates of Hell Trilogy,” an entombed carcass is exhumed and, before an autopsy is conducted, is hooked up to a brainwave machine thanks to a lab tech with a sense of humor. Thankfully the room had a “Do Not Entry” sign so the fellow had some privacy. In Nightmare Necropolis, the second record from Finnish death metal band Cadaveric Incubator, the band takes influence from Entombed, Carcass, Exhumed, and Autopsy. A tree with breasts, a puking skeleton, and what looks like a very sad frog atop a tombstone adorn the cover thanks to an illustrator with a sense of humor. Let’s ignore the sign(s) and entry into the necropolis.” Make way for the Incuba-TOR!
“Pounder’s 2019 debut Uncivilized was covered here by Lokasenna, and since he seems to have quietly and non-suspiciously disappeared, Steel Druhm has seen fit to assign follow-up Breaking the World to yours truly. I have no illusions about why Steel has done this. It’s obvious that he believes I will end up crucifying myself before the commentariat, either by being unable to resist making unsavory jokes about the band’s name, or by going into full Skelator mode by lavishing praise upon yet another heavy metal album with questionable vocals.” Pounding the world.
“I hope this story finds you munching on your breakfast and drinking a warm pumpkin spice latte with the morning news. Here’s Repuked with the weather.” BLEEAARGH!!!
“We all know a veteran metalhead who shows up to every gig – that older fella who has been going to shows since 1974, standing in the same spot, never going to the toilet, just nodding his head and occasionally, slowly, raising horns to the sky. He usually has wispy grey-white hair that flows, wizard like, to his ankles. He usually wears a faded Morbid Angel t-shirt purchased at a ’87 gig when they passed through the town. He has a battle jacket packed with patches of obscure speed-metal bands from 1985 and crust-punk bands from Wales. He was born on the sticky floor of the venue. He is God. The members of Shed the Skin are the same. They’re the grizzled veterans of the death metal scene.” Olde skin.
