Death Strike - Fuckin' Death (1991)

If ever there were an album deserving of a re-issue, Fuckin' Death would be a prime contender, and so it is that Death Strike's long beloved, trashy visage once more circulates among the legions of young and old that starve for the authentic sounds of the 80s. While the original Nuclear Blast version of the album was released in '91, half of the contents were lifted from the band's 1985 demo of the same name. Death Strike is perhaps best known as being the launching ground for the prolific Paul Speckmann's long love affair within the extreme metal spectrum; not so celebrated as the better known Master, but far cruder, and arguably more important.

You see, Fuckin' Death came about during those early years when the thrash and crossover sounds were simply no longer violent enough, and bands sought to push the edge into the next category of grime and misanthropy: death metal. One might disagree that Death Strike truly qualified as a straight 'death metal' act, and in truth, the music itself bears more in common with the fast, raw, thrashing of the time, but the vocals hold it upon the precipice. In this way, the band was quite similar to Possessed, Venom or Bathory, an amalgamation of desolation and disgust which functions fully on its slovenly, violent schematics. The riffs are raw, churning, and don't sound like they took more than a few moments to conceive, while Speckmann's brute and masochistic vocals resonate across the mix, choked with carnivorous, serial killer charisma.

In short, it's not perfect, but it's bad ass. The riffs to "Mangled Dehumanization" and "Pay to Die" might mingle with the stark simplicity of a Discharge or Repulsion, but they're all in good fun, and remain fresh and inviting despite the crass, raw meat of the production. Leads are hardly structured, they simply wail out through the burgeoning, crashing momentum. The newer songs like "Pervert" and "The Final Conflict" (with its acoustic intro) seem as if the band were trying to expand themselves structurally, with a deeper production and slightly more restrained vocals, and I can't say I appreciate them as much as the original Fuckin' Death demo material. But they are in no way bad, and as a bonus, this new edition of the album includes four rehearsal cuts ("Live for Free", "Pay to Die", "The Truth" and "Master") which help round out the experience and should thrill longtime fans of the demo.

We're not talking strict immortality here, and there are pretty obvious reasons why these songs would not have made a similar impact to other US pioneers like Slayer, Possessed or Dark Angel, but Fuckin' Death is still a cult collectible. The lyrics are decent for the time, the viral uncircumsized guitar tone and crashing vocals make it the equal of most of the later Master records. Worth hearing for at least the original demo at its heart, and now that you've got a chance to acquire it on readily available vinyl or CD, it makes for an entertaining, shattered window into the past of one of metal's long unsung figures.

Verdict: Win [7.75/10] (again & again til daybreak)

Locus Mortis - Inter Uterum Et Loculum MMXI (2011)

While I'm hardly the biggest advocate for re-recordings of albums, preferring to hear the material in its original projection (for better or worse), there are occasionally the beneficial side effects of exposure to those previously oblivious to a work's existence. Until hearing this remake of an obscure, 2005 Italian black metal debut, I was almost entirely unaware of the band's existence. I might have encountered the name when doing some research online, but I never deigned to track down their albums, which turned out to be a distinct act of ignorance. One for which I must now atone: Locus Mortis kicks ass, and Inter Uterum Et Loculum MMXI is one of the freshest black metal records I've heard in recent months, despite its conception being six years or more in the past.

This is simply one of the best bands I've heard at incorporating death growls into the streaming terrain of nocturnal terrors that most often distinguishes the black metal genre. Rather than hanging themselves upon the crude production of many of their peers, they take a broader, more expansive approach, with thick and echoing guitars that alternate between the consistency of steady stonework and the sparser, atmospheric melodies that pop up in the midst of the battle charges ("Te Sit Perpetua Vita"). Rather than the expected rasping, you get this full bodied, guttural depth that reverberates across the thundering propulsion of a "La Via Mi Fu Mostrata" or "Sentore di Morte", but the band also will throw in a chug based breakdown to really mess with the listener's expectations, or evoke this amazing, beautiful subtext which is nearly enough to draw tears from the eyes. The predictable but poignant melody running beneath "Fiamme" is perhaps the best example here, but it's not the only one.

Other qualities include the major bass tone happening here, especially for the closer "Relitti" in which it races against the vacuous discord of the guitars, before ending in an extended noise sequence that exhibits the eclectic breadth of the band. Inter Uterum Et Loculum MMXI does occasionally lapse into the repetition and monotony inherent to its genre, but the mix and the passionate force that the band bring to bear more then compensate, and there are usually a few moments of structural variation and adaption throughout each of the longer tunes. Intelligent and powerful, Locus Mortis has done well to reinvigorate its material and elevate its creation to the level of peers like Spite Extreme Wing, Urna or Tenebrae in Perpetuum. To the level of first rate Italian agonies!

Verdict: Win [8/10]

http://www.myspace.com/locusmortis13

Til Det Bergens Skyggene - s/t (2011)

The second release for the young Voldsom imprint (the first being a CD reissue of Finnish Norns' In Fog They Appear demo), Til Det Bergens Skyggene is an evocative ambient piece created by the label's proprietor, Lord Vranevorn. Seeking to spiritually emulate the works of Norse and Germanic enthusiasts in the field, namely that of black metal artists circa Ildjarn, Burzum, (early) Mortiis, Vinterriket, or Neptune Towers, he's actually managed to strike out further, to a distinct balance of both the longing, solitary atmospheres of fell natural visions in the North, and the future gleaning wonders that were once manifest in magnificent 80s synthesizer works of Vangelis and Tangerine Dream. 37 minutes of sheer escapism captured on professional cassette, hand numbered to about 100 copies, this is something you'll probably want to get your hands on promptly, or at least beg Voldsom to make more copies available in this or another format.

I was quite taken aback here by the equal parts eloquence and darkness that are manifest in the five compositions of this demo. Certain mental predispositions about the bleak arboreal reflection of the cover image led me to believe this would be a work of desolation. Of isolation. But there's quite a knack for melody ingrained in the organ, string and flute pads being utilized here, and each of the tracks bleeds the heart of its repetition into a breathtaking transition that is often a surprise. Examples would include the eerie "Skog, natt og stjerner (forest, night and stars)", in which the morose backdrop is grafted with perkier, uplifting melodies, and a subtle beat inserted as precisely the right moment to conjure a lavish momentum. "Opphans stillhelt", through which a dark repetition strums against a carnival melody, almost as if the soundtrack for some archaic, brooding silent film. Or the true centerpiece of the recording: the epic "Min tid har kommet (my time has come)", with its bright and expansive waves of dominant keys that collapse into a subtle, almost tribal undercurrent of sparse percussion, and then an extensive stretch of dire madness, only to return to the inevitable grace of the opening sequence.

You get lost in Til Det Bergens Skyggene. The imagination soars, from the tower like stride of the title track to the periods of somnolent, forgotten glades and gulfs. Like much of the better ambient work, mere clues are given to each track's inspiration: the rest is left to the emotions of the listener to fill in. The simplified and repressed production of the cassette format serves only to enhance its sense of distance and obscurity, though I get the impression that Vranevorn's compositions would be well suited to the clean acoustics of an orchestra just as well as the sole keyboard architect. For an initial demo, this is well written and attuned to both a background experience in the wilderness, or a direct absorption by flickering, fading candlelight.

Verdict: Win [8/10]

http://www.voldsom.net/

Temple Nightside - Prophecies of Malevolence EP (2011)

The snag in defining an effort like Prophecies of Malevolence is that it's so successful at its dark ambient elements that I'd almost rather place it in that category than the black metal itself, which often feels as if its riding in the passenger seat. But in general, these Australians have found themselves an engrossing balance of swelling oblivion and writhing, snarling madness that is guaranteed to haunt anyone who falls prey to its shadowed, vaporous clutches. In listening through this EP, I felt as if I were directly upon the precipice of falling night, as if my very footsteps were skirting its border, my eyes and ears a mute witness to the horrors of its life-leeching, opaque embrace. I'll say it here: Temple Nightside might have some issues, but beyond any doubt, they live up to their fucking name.

Prophecies of Malevolence is essentially one, grief-strewn saga woven into nine fluid tracks, five of which are ominous, ambient pieces which swelter and drone as if they were born of a vast, vacuum void-maw upon the threshold of madness, sucking souls into the nothing of its being. These tracks are titled "Commune 1.1-1.5", though they're each given titles, like "Eclipsed Salvation" or "Malediction Evangelist". The remainder of the release is comprised of solitary, distant black metal overtures. The percussion is quite low in the mix, tinny and hammering against the more resonant guitar tones, while the rasps breathe out like dense specters lost in a frozen mist. This is not necessarily a riff-oriented band. Think of some minimalist parallel to old Emperor, at least in the guitar department, which in itself transcends into some ambient force of chaos right at the edge of perception.

That's not to say there is no structure present. For example, the slower paced track "Acolyte Abomination" in particular evokes some ghastly dissonance through its shimmering rhythms. But the majority of these metal tracks, like "Incipit - Relinquished" and "Twelve Divinations of Spheres Beyond", thunder along with abandon, and the listener always feels so far away and helpless, as if there were no way to stop whatever nihilistic vortex the band were summoning. To their credit, the atmosphere alone is kind of cool, but it definitely would not harm them to pen some more jarring or memorable guitars, even if they keep such a far off tone in the mix. The sheer ambient tracks, on the other hand, are quite amazing, and despite the minor nitpicks, a sit through of the entire 27 minute EP yields an eminent fear and harrowing.

Verdict: Win [7.25/10]

Skeletal Spectre - Occult Spawned Premonitions (2011)

Skeletal Spectre's 2009 debut Tomb Coven was a bit of a treat, a cult horror infested romp through the annals of traditional Swedish death metal and solid, stumbling doom passages. A spooky, sad space between Entombed and early Tiamat, traced back through the legacy of Black Sabbath. For its followup, the duo decided to enlist and expand to incorporate a vocalist: Vanessa Nocera. You'll likely recognize her as the wife of Billy Nocera, or from her other acts in the extended Razorback family: Scaremaker and Wooden Stake. Her major contribution here is in a stylistic switch-up between the gruff, guttural vocals one would expect to an acidic, unnerving clean style that conjures a psychedelic, ritual doom aesthetic not unlike a Jex Thoth or Blood Ceremony, if slightly less melodic.

Needless to say, it works well within the context of Occult Spawned Premonitions, and helps lend the album an atmosphere redolent of the good old Hammer Horror flicks or other cult films, while not abandoning the riff-heavy death of the debut. Tracks like "Scalped" and "Untimely Tomb" lumber along like undead goliaths, smashing but simple walls of chords that span the slower and mid-paces of the genre, summoning comparisons to peers like Hooded Menace or Decrepitaph. Others, like the catchy "Raw Head & Blood Bones" or the title track, bring the doom rock to the fore with bold and basal guitars that support Vanessa's broader snarling and growling. Another strength of the band, which was present on the debut, is the subtle use of somber melodies that range off against the crush of the central rhythms. Most of the cuts are wrapped up in about 4-5 minutes, with only one exception in the droning, oppressive finale "Domain of the Fleshless One", which manages its bulk with a steady floe of funeral rhythms and a tortured, torn throat.

I didn't find the sophomore to be quite so catchy as its predecessor, few songs so memorable as "Eerie Bones" or "Tomb Coven" itself, but I think it will still have its appeal among the other acts on the Razorback roster. Not necessarily something anyone will take seriously, but then that's the M.O. of so many of Skeletal Spectre's contemporaries: provide a fun filled, effective outlet to celebrate the old school extremity of late 80s and early 90s death, thrash, doom or grind, and dress it in a package of nostalgia for classic horror camp. Nocera's cleaner vocals can grate on the ears in places, and I could have lived with a more powerful mix of drums, which seem to be over burdened by the weight of the guitars, but otherwise it should prove a good time for fans of Hooded Menace, Acid Witch, Wooden Stake, Father Befouled and the entire crew.

Verdict: Win [7/10]

http://www.myspace.com/skeletalspectre

Thurisaz - The Cimmerian Years (2011)

When I first read the title of the new Thurisaz album, I was rather surprised and misled into thinking it might be something along the lines of a Robert E. Howard tribute, or at least a conceptual album devoted to his character Conan the Cimmerian. Would have been strange, consider how the band's sophomore Circadian Rhythm was a pendulous, pensive concept cross-fusion of melodic death and dark progressive elements. Just a cursory glance at the cover reveals a modern cityscape, though, so it appears the Belgians have decided against the swords & sorcery that the title implied, but that's really alright, because I'm not quite sure how such a controlled act like this would have pulled it off.

The Cimmerian Years follows somewhat loyally in the footfalls of its predecessor, with a mix of death and doom elements cast in the glow of pristine production values, rhythmic variation and a mash of vocal styles that include grunts, snarls and mid-ranged male cleans. Songs like "Second Mirror" and "The Carnival of Miscreation" almost have a folk-like drive to them, in which the melodies snake and loop about, begging a comparison to earlier period Opeth. But then, much of the mix and modernization accrued by Thurisaz is more redolent of modern Opeth. If you're picking up what I'm putting down, then you'll note that I think this album sounds like a lot like someone pulled out various aspects of the Swedes' entire catalog, from Morningrise to the more modern Ghost Reveries, then tossed in a handful of Dan Swano's Nightingale, Katatonia or the lesser known Swedish prog metal outfit Wolverine.

Not to say that its terribly derivative, or that it fails to embark on a journey of its own, but I often found myself lapsing off into unconsciousness as I was trying to absorb myself into its polished flights of morose fancy. I found myself distraught by the rasped vocals, they sound a bit cheesy in a mix so clean, whereas the pianos and synthesizers woven into the background also failed to distinguish themselves outside of a mere, ambient accompaniment. There are some fine vocal harmonies throughout, especially in tunes like the brooding folk of "Inner Voices" or the intro to "Fare Thee Well", but they often reign in too tightly to create a numbing sensation that drained my attentions. The Cimmerian Years has its moments, and fans of Circadian Rhythms should not find themselves too disappointed, but there's too much focus on the variation of its conflicting styles, and I felt it was a bit too subdued on the whole.

Verdict: Indifference [6.5/10]

http://www.thurisaz.be/

Paths of Possession - The End of the Hour (2007)

Paths of Possession had honestly come a long way since their debut, the lacking Legacy of Ashes in 2002. Though The End of the Hour is not quite a rousing success, it exhibits several developments over its predecessors. In fact, its the closest I've come to actually enjoying one of their albums, with stronger songwriting and pretty intense production values. The guitar tone in particular is just mighty here, especially as the band use so many simple chugging, thrashing rhythms that border on Pantera grooves that it becomes essential in order for them to retain their effectiveness. The bass is well mixed, curvaceous and pummeling along with the drums, and George Fisher does a hell of a better job than he did on Promises in Blood.

That said, there are a lot of 'basic' elements here that come off as less than exciting. Some of the melodic riffs have a very Maiden feel to them, predictable and generic to the point that they don't really add anything to the muscular rhythmic substrate. Tracks where they have George flexing his chops often feel as they're overbearing. The guy has a nice, narrative sneer that he'll often alternate with his Corpse-grunts (as in "Engulfing the Pure"), but it does come tend to come off more hokey than serious, and that's not really something you want on a concept album about the evolution of some genocidal maniac. Also, for all the solid, melodic hooks that are woven through tunes like "Poisoned Promised Land" or "The End of The Hour" itself, there are quite a few that feel nothing more than empty filler. Thankfully, the thick guitars are such that even the more boring moments can cause the imagination to rock out for a measure or too, but they don't exactly leave an imprint on the memory.

There's a closing, untitled track here which is actually called "Soulless" and was a cover of one of the members' former bands (Cancerslug). I've never heard of them, but the song instantly feels peppier and more fun, like a bunch of groovy ghouls rocking out some death/thrash one night at the local sepulcher. There's enough depth to this one that I almost wish they had just had Cancerslug write all of the Paths of Possession material, because it was at least fun. The bold production, the slight increase in songwriting quality and Fisher's better grasp of his position are just not enough to cross the margin into a solid recommendation, but if you're intent on checking out any of the PoP material, start with this, even if the lyrics and concept are nowhere near what the band probably hoped they'd be.

Verdict: Indifference [6.25/10]

http://www.myspace.com/pathsofpossession

Monstrosity - Spiritual Apocalypse (2007)

Though the two are not quite the same, I'd liken Monstrosity's 5th full-length Spiritual Apocalypse to Deicide's surprising Stench of Redemption from the year prior. Both show a heightened sensibility towards melody and songwriting that establish their acts for a new century, without abandoning the brutal throughput of their history. Spiritual Apocalypse reveals a willingness to explore and grow, while maintaining the characteristics that had to its day marked the band as one of the most potent second stringers in the Florida scene: top notch riffing and lead capabilities, dynamic Lee Harrison drumming, sleek production values, rhythmic variation and enough moments of atmosphere to carry the listener into its aggressive, otherworldly space (the last being the most impressive).

Where Rise to Power was honestly pretty lackluster, Spiritual Apocalypse excels. You won't find yourself chewing your fingernails as you wait patiently for something exciting to happen. Nearly every track is infused with some stylish lead or ear jerking rhythm guitar that remains within the listener's mind, like the subtle and escalating acrobatics of "Apostles of the Endless Night", or the percussive punctuation of guitars and drums that inaugurates "The Inhuman Race". I can't get enough of the leads in "Spiritual Apocalypse" or "Sacred Oblivion"! Mark English, the band's new guitarist as of this album, simply knocks each of them out of the park, accumulating layers of rapture and revelation that cement Spiritual Apocalypse as the most 'musical' of Monstrosity's efforts.

He's not the only fresh blood here: Mike Hrubovcak of Vile steps in to add a more reactive admixture of snarls and growls than his predecessor, the effective yet monotonous Jason Avery. All told, Monstrosity are one of those few bands that can claim to have had three frontmen of note in their ranks, but Hrubovcak manages to honor his predecessors while wonderfully fitting himself into the semi-technical landscape of Harrison, English and bassist Mike Poggione. The mix is great, flush with all the other modern tech and brute death works in the field who actually care about such a thing, and the lyrics and composition are among the best of the band's career. Less snappy or flashy than Millenium, perhaps, but more intricate than In Dark Purity or Rise to Power. If asked to choose a favorite among the band's works, I might give the slight, invisible edge to the debut Imperial Doom, since I enjoy Corpsegrinder and the older atmosphere there, but I can't shake the feeling that they'd finally written its equal. Different, but about equal, and without a doubt one of the best Florida death metal albums of the 21st century to date.

Verdict: Win [8/10] (adorned with devastation)

http://www.monstrosity.us/

Malevolent Creation - Doomsday-X (2007)

Doomsday-X is another of those Malevolent Creation releases which musters just enough courage and independence against the band's bland but punishing history to merit some attention, even if only a minimal amount. There is nothing great happening here, but the band manages to incorporate enough variation and death/thrash propulsion to keep the listener on edge through both the double bass heavy slam segments and the hyperactive streaks of splatter and speed. The band had orchestrated a subtle shift towards prominence with the previous record, Warkult, and I had hoped for some strong capitalization upon its momentum, which this is not, but at least they don't really lapse into mediocrity.

Doomsday-X is an album that does reek of 'process', and whenever that process is even slightly alleviated, it begins to grow stronger (sort of like The Fine Art of Murder). It begins on a note of surprise with the blissful leads of "Cauterized", but then pummels and channels through a slew of pretty average, faster paced mayhem until the morose, thoughtful muted melodies deep within "Culture of Doubt". It's these sparse moments of baited elegance that help break up enough of the monotonous brutality to make a functioning record, and Phil Fasciana and company are wise to persist in such dynamics, so you'll have the grooving, potent thrasher "Dawn of Defeat" right up against the lead-glazed chuggernaut "Prelude to Doomsday", or the spiky, searing "Strength in Numbers" following up the springy, semi-tech balance of "Upon Their Cross". Doomsday-X is hardly possessive of those gorgeous, destructive riffs that make for a death metal legend, but at the same time it succeeds in never growing boring, perched upon the listener's attention span even if it never drills straight through his/her brow.

The mix of the album is direct and workmanlike, a characteristic the band is well regarded for. You don't listen to Malevolent Creation for atmosphere, you listen to them for a punch in the face, a kick in the groin to remind you that this music is about aggression. Hoffman's familiar, blood drenched and gnarled vocals do tend towards monotony, but they'll do. The lyrics aren't the best of their career, but they've got a good meaning to them that often tackles the social and political construct head on rather than just dabbling solely in serial killers and stalkers. Perhaps the most important factor to this album, though, is that the longstanding Florida maniacs show no real signs of aging. They sound like they had just sprung up in the 80s, fists flailing about as they teach the young whippersnappers a lesson in pain.

Verdict: Win [7/10] (from walls of the damned)

http://www.myspace.com/malevolentcreation

Six Feet Under - Commandment (2007)

Few are the bands which deserve the proverbial fork stuck in them more than Florida's Six Feet Under. Yet in stark defiance of their utensil wielding detractors, they persist year after year in releasing vapid, uninspired studio albums amidst their sodden live recordings and useless, numbing collections of cover tracks. Commandment comes along with its bloodied skull leering out at the prospective audience, and I'd so like to add the caption 'LET ME OUTTA HERE', because Chris Barnes and company have once again fallen well short of what it takes to release a proper death metal album, or a proper death & roll album, or whatever the fuck this middling collection of palm mute grooves could rightly be dubbed.

The only real credit due to this album is the production, which is enormous and thus entirely wasted on such sodden, underwhelming songwriting. Because of the sound itself, the album will trick the listener into thinking its heavier, more crushing, more legitimate than some of its pathetic predecessors like Warpath or Bringer of Blood. But once we cut through the smoke and mirrors of the actual engineering, this is nothing more than the usual, pedestrian grasp upon horror culture concepts like "Zombie Executioner" and "Resurrection of the Rotten", delivered through minimal and ineffective note sequences that generally consist of about four chords open or muted, in simple ascending and descending patterns that just about any guitar player with distortion could write in seconds. I might not mind the lyrics if the music were good. But who exactly writes this material? Barnes? Or Steve Swanson? Considering the loyalty through which these members have persisted together since Maximum Violence, one might expect some level of evolution.

Yet these are more or less the precise same sorts of riffs that populated the early albums, with only the brighter sheen of production to lend them weight. There's one lead sequence in the final track, the bridge of "Ghosts of the Undead", which almost melted my mind it stood out so far from the dull bludgeoning around it, and its presence alone leads me believe that the musicians involved in 6FU could actually write some half-decent material if they stopped phoning it all in to Metal Blade, but I won't cross my fingers. Nope, these are the same chugging abortions that the band have always conjured forth, a limp hybrid of Obituary and Biohazard that goes absolutely nowhere fast. Commandment does maintain some variation between faster and slower paces, but its all incredibly weak in the knees considering the muscle of the mix.

Verdict: Fail [4.5/10]

http://www.sfu420.com/