When the temperatures drop, the shivering begins, and the days are more thoroughly consumed by the night, so also does the sickness rise. Walk around and listen: the hacking, the sneezing, the sinus cavities flooded as if one has had a garden hose turned on at full strength for a week. A throat that feels like it passed a cactus. It takes its toll, and our bodies pay the price. We can understand what makes us feel this way, but we can’t see it or predict it. That, partially, is what leads to phobia.
So the parasite, an organism so tiny that its existence is only acknowledged once the scratching begins in the back of the throat, also is mighty. And the way in which Canadian death metal squadron MITOCHONDRION pays homage to the parasite is almost in reverence. A dark, black, twisted tribute that acknowledges these tiny specks of destruction also are more lethal than just what brings on the annual winter’s cold. It can strangle slowly or stab swiftly, with the victim having no recourse other than let the creature run its course and bring with it demise. Taking on Parasignosis — MITOCHONDRION’s second full-length and follow-up to brilliant Archaeaeon — and absorbing the often mangled, drowned words, could make anyone with aforementioned phobias sleep less securely.
The swirling, devastating music is death metal at its core, but it takes the fundamentals to such extreme levels, that it can’t merely take on the label with nothing else said. The primitive terror and danger expressed by country mates WEAPON can be heard here, as can the buried musical brilliance of a band such as PORTAL, but that, also, only gives a miniscule picture. Allowing oneself to be immersed in the music can be compared to having a powerful, sedative drip coursing through the veins in the midst of a great infection, with the mind allowing itself to wander through its deepest, least explored cavities, all the while feeling the sense of dread and panic setting in that no drug possibly can take away. You’ll get caught in the great, charring turbulence the band puts together, all the while waiting for the neck-jerk turns that either lead you to healing or decay.
The first three cuts on Parasignosis, a triptych rife with suffering, sound like the epitome of madness. The drums spiral out of control, yet also keep the morbid time, while the vocals drown and writhe under fairly majestic compositions. By the time the blur of “Tetravirulence” lands, the monstrous doom and charging assault becomes too much to battle on one’s own. Even when “Trials” bubbles out from under the suffocating open, the hammering riffing and bone-powdering tempo still holds the strains of disease, even as other subjects begin to rear their heads. From “Kathenotheism” on through the final three cuts (two are shockingly brief intertwined bits of ambiance), the record shifts more into atmosphere that could be compared to the passing of the body after the disease claims its final victory. The final drops of life are squeezed out, and there remains a fleeting consciousness, but for all intents and purposes, the invisible assailant exerts its power and eats its way to glory.
This is all merely skimming the surface, too, but it’s a start. MITOCHONDRION have managed to make a captivating, terrifying album that goes beyond just what you hear. If you allow yourself to sink into intellectual examination and borderline parasitic worship, you might find your inner insecurities bleeding through. You may unearth fears you never knew you had, or worse, fan the flames of anxiety you try to keep at bay. Aside from what’s said, Parasignosis is a dizzying vortex of crushing superiority, proving that death metal can grow, develop, and be smart, not just sit around like a Neanderthal with limited purpose. MITOCHONDRION are a powerful entity that deserve your utmost respect and attention.
Black Witchery-Inferno of Sacred Destruction (Osmose)
Amongst more bestial metal circles out there, the name of Black Witchery has become semi-legendary and synonymous with the blackest, most unholy institutions.
Not bad for a band who are only now releasing their third full length after forming embryonically in 1991, right?
Luckily for Black Witchery, underground black metallers can be a patient lot, and the band’s relatively scheduled live appearances have kept the rabid dogs at bay throughout most of their career. Though 2001′s Desecration of the Holy Kingdom served a career benchmark for the band, its been a difficult albatross ’round the band’s collective neck; a definitive album which encapsulates the American brutal BM underground’s appetite for destruction.
Inferno of Sacred Destruction follows up the band’s 2005 effort, Upheaval of Satanic Might, and doesn’t really change too many gears when it comes to execution. The name of the game is still raw-a-fuck Beherit/Von worship, and-if you take the style for what it is-there are still very few who outdo Black Witchery at their best.
The band doesn’t fuck around with needless instrumental interludes or shenanigans, instead choosing to unleash two minute barrages of near-tuneless noise and chaos, not stopping until both stereo and listener ears bleed. If this brand of cloaked, cemetery dwelling darkness is your bag-I’ve outgrown this style of metal, personally-then Inferno of Sacred Destruction should do you just fine until the next ritual.
In a fucking incredible turn of events, I just found out that the old adage of ‘ask and you shall receive’ still works! After all of my hoping, AGALLOCH has announced a special NYC headlining show for this March. Not only that, but they are being accompanied by one of my favorite experimental bands WORM OUROBOROS (which also feature AGALLOCH drummer Aesop Dekker) as the opening act.
Not only that, but the venue that has been announced is none other than Le Poisson Rouge, which is about 25 steps from my front door in the heart of Greenwich Village!
Fucking amazing news so I hope to see all of you New Yorkers at Le Poisson Rouge on March 22nd!
In director Amando de Ossorio’s second Blind Dead film, the Spanish maestro doubles up on every element which made the first installment, Tombs of the Blind Dead so uniquely creepy, while eliminating nearly all of the ponderous pacing which laboriously hampered the original film.
The resulting classick is Return of the Evil Dead, also known as El Attaque de los Muertos sin Ojos (“The Attack of the Dead Without Eyes”), a flick with such exhaustively creepy atmosphere that it almost restarts the series.
Indeed, Return is probably what Tombs SHOULD have been: a relentless exercise in morbid, shambling ghouls who rise from their grave, seeking blood-soaked revenge upon the living. Ossorio’s undead Templar Knights-sacrilegious fiends who tortured and sacrificed during their lifetime, only to have their eyes burned out from a raging village mob-possess one of the most original and genuinely horrifying makeup jobs of the day, a true testament to Ossorio’s unique vision.
While the film changes up the Knight’s back story a bit-their eyes were picked out by vultures in the first film-the end result is the same: salacious, slow-motion combat, with super-gory results. One aspect of the first film which returns are the Templar’s undead horses; malevolent steeds which continue to bear their riders into battle after death. The zombified nature of the beasts are explained a little more thoroughly in this film, and we even get to sneak a peak at one of the mount’s scarred up faces!
Return of the Evil Dead practically drips with streaming red atmosphere and comparatively brisk pacing. The film is barely 90 minutes, yet the running time is just perfect to get in, get killed and get out, with little to no time spent pontificating the reasons why for Ossorio; just a little bit of character development and viola! off we go to Spanish Zombie Town.
While Tombs of the Blind Dead will always have its place in my heart, its Return of the Evil Dead which truly makes good upon all of the film series’ promise. Next up, we’ll tackle what is probably the least liked amongst Ossorio’s Blind Dead series of films: The Ghost Galleon. Till then, buenos muertos!
Though Bison B.C.’s sophomore effort displays marked improvement from their stylistically plagiarized Quiet Earth debut, Dark Ages still struggles to make a stylistically unique dent within the crowded stoner metal scene.
Perhaps its the sweater vest ‘n indie cred crowd packin’ the racks, or maybe its the fact that ‘Bison B.C.’ is a cheap ‘n crap name to take seriously, but Dark Ages doesn’t really convince the listener of much beyond the band’s obvious attention to ape The Sword and High On Fire to absolute death.
Indeed, it becomes difficult to separate the riffs ‘n atmosphere of Bison B.C. from those of their superior contemporaries, so bluntly and brazenly are these bands’ sonic milieus heisted. Frankly, it’s tough to think of Dark Ages as being essential listening for anyone other than those clearly obsessed with this style, or friends of the band. After all, when your average post-Sleep riff fest is already so adequately delivered by superior acts, why delve into the depths for the tossed sonic chaff, right?
Bison B.C. possess a workmanlike dedication to riffery and songwriting; something which might be able to take them far if properly focused in a more original direction. At the very least, the band would do well in at least incorporating some other, disparate influences which might make the churning, cannabis haze here on Dark Ages a bit more palatable. For the time being, however, this record isn’t much more than a stylistic photocopy.
Jams and Bombs returns to unearth some gems from the undeniable Texas institution known as Pantera, nixing the band’s earliest full length Power Metal from the running, in favor of a proper, review focus at a later date. Without further ado, gitcha pull on, and take a boot to the Kool with Jams and Bombs: The Pantera Edition.
FIVE UNDERESTIMATED PANTERA SONGS WHICH KICK ASS, MAN
5. “Revolution Is My Name” from 2000′s Reinventing the Steel
While most will best describe Pantera’s 2000 swansong as going out with a whimper rather than a bang, Reinventing the Steel did indeed feature a number of tracks which stood tall alongside the band’s burly back catalog, not the least of which is this cowbell-led jam; a standout on an album which otherwise depicted a tumultuous band in turmoil.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Qy0AZcKzCQ
4. “The Great Southern Trendkill” from 1996′s The Great Southern Trendkill
This was another album which doesn’t really receive the same acclaim as its two more infamous predecessors. While this ugly, knuckle-scraping album doesn’t exactly pack the same sort of iconic punch, this track is worth it simply for frontman Phil Anselmo’s psychotic, grindcore-frenzy vocals, perhaps a slight nod to his friend and collaborator, A.C.’s Seth Putnam, who also laid down backing screams on this one.
3. “Shedding Skin” from 1994′s Far Beyond Driven
Probably my next favorite Pantera record after Cowboys, FBD was a far grimmer and superior product to the over-hyped and jock-ish Vulgar Display of Power, and brought with it the proposition of Pantera truly becoming one of metal’s heaviest hitters on commercial radio and MTV. Along with Vulgar, it was THIS album which brought the band to their absolute career pinnacle. “Shedding Skin” is a cut deep from side two of my cassette tape…enjoy!
2. “Rise” from 1992′s Vulgar Display of Power
How can you really deny the opening thrash salvo of “Rise?” Though this album has always left a bad taste in my mouth overall, it’s tracks like “Rise” which make me spin it from time to time.
1. “The Art of Shredding” from 1990′s Cowboys From Hell
From the opening, thudding bass groove, to Dimebag Darrell’s vintage 80s thrash intro, “The Art of Shredding” exemplifies everything awesome about Cowboys From Hell: the delicate balance between the band’s traditional metal past and power-groove future.
FIVE BUNK PANTERA SONGS, BUCKO
5. “Good Friends and Bottle of Pills” from Far Beyond Driven
This musical and verbal masturbation seemed pretty cool when I was a teenager–with its tawdry tale of sexual deviancy pushing the creative envelope at the time–but these days it just smacks of noise and annoyance.
4. “You’ve Got to Belong to It” from Reinventing the Steel
Barring a cool, disharmonic intro from Dime, this track is an otherwise cold fish reminder of why most Pantera fans forget this album exists.
3. “I’ll Cast a Shadow” from Reinventing the Steel
Ditto the above, minus the cool intro.
2. “This Love” from Vulgar Display of Power
Sure, some may find emotional worth in this ham-fisted behemoth….but I just find it tired and pointless.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MenZzy7XWVc
1. “Walk” from Vulgar Display of Power
This song is like nails on a chalkboard for me. Everything about it makes me want to cover my ears and run. One-eyed, lumbering metal for the lowest common denominator. Also: Worst. Riff. Ever.
Perdition Temple-Edict of the Antichrist Elect (Osmose)
Here we are once again with another bestial, black attack from Osmose, this time from Perdition Temple, the new band from former Angel Corpse guitarist Gene Palubicki.
As expected, there’s a lot of Morbid Angel and Possessed worship going on here with Edict of the Antichrist Elect, as well as a lot of schizoid, left-of-centre riff collections which speak of Palubicki’s obvious talent behind the fretboard.
That being said, Perdition Temple sounds a bit thin with only Gene and his drummer Terry Eleftheriou behind the kit. The missing element of Palubicki’s former Angel Corpse bandmate Pete Helmhamp is sorely evident from the get-go, as Edict of the Antichrist Elect isn’t exactly brimming with inventive song ideas or unique theme variations.
No, this album is very single minded in its intent and focus, leaving the listener cold after a few songs, which the initial shock and speed factor wear off. Sure, there is always going to be an audience for this sort of music, but Perdition Temple simply isn’t one of the style best purveyors just yet. Perhaps with some lineup fleshing and a sharper focus, the band could potentially be a force with which to be reckoned, but as it stands now Edict of the Antichrist Elect only commands a small crowd of cult devotees.
Abysmal Dawn-Levelling the Plane of Existence (Relapse)
After an atmospheric, 70s soundtrack-esque introduction, this third offering from Los Angeles’ Abysmal Dawn races out of the starting gate with something to prove.
The trio succeeds here in delivering a solid, semi-melodic album of death/thrash with a technical touch; a record which should likely appeal to fans of both latter day Death as well as the more brutal, less over-the-top imitators spawned in Evil Chuck’s wake. This is one of Abysmal Dawn’s strongest talents, the ability to deftly juggle genres and balance out a cross sectioned appeal, all the while retaining a deftly-handed and smartly produced sound.
The darker side of this is that Abysmal Dawn’s sound doesn’t really sound unique. There’s nothing here on Leveling the Plane of Existence which you haven’t heard done elsewhere, albeit Abysmal Dawn is better than most who have traveled down similar paths.
What Abysmal Dawn DOES do much better than their contemporaries is capturing a sharp focus on vocal patterns within their songwriting. Frontman/guitarist Charles Elliot does a great job making sure his enunciation is on point, while positively pushing forward his band’s songs via confident phrasing and satisfying patterning all around, lending his guitar work that much more credence, in the end.
Does this make Leveling the Plane of Existence a worthwhile purchase, then? The answer is clearly yes for a fan who enjoys this style of half-tech, semi-melodic metal. In order to truly standout, maybe Abysmal Dawn needs to take their undeniably impressive musical abilities, choose one side of the stylistic fence and stick to it; they obviously have the talent and I certainly am excited to watch their progression.
In remembrance of Jean Rollin-who just recently passed away this month-Blood Horror and Metal takes a brief look a the visionary French director’s early gore fest, Les Raisins de la Mort.
Acclaimed by many as one of the country’s first splatter flicks, Les Raisins de la Mort-literally translated as The Grapes of Death, named so because much of the film takes place at a winery-is a surprising little film; one which succeeds at nearly every turn.
Plot-wise, Raisins deals with the spreading of a nasty, zombie-like virus which afflicts the residents of a small French town. Having just celebrated the grape harvest, the townsfolk all indulge in copious libations…wine which has been drenched in some unfortunately strong pesticide.
The new pesticide reacts extremely poor with the human body, it turns out; so bad that it turns the entire town into bloodthirsty, murderous zombies. Enter Elizabeth, who is traveling en route to the winery to live with her boyfriend, who happens to be the owner. Elizabeth and her friend are attacked on the train by one of the zombified townsfolk, after which all hell breaks loose for the young lady, with plenty of scary, splatter violence along the way.
Les Raisins de la Mort-as is de rigueur for most of Rollin’s work-balances expertly the director’s artistic desires and base instincts, coming off just as comfortably within the art house world as it does the horror realm. The performances are all surprisingly strong, the make up effective, and the story briskly paced. Hell, even the dialogue -subtitles and all-manages to remain at the upper echelon of things all the way through to the film’s bitter end.
Jean Rollin’s films are characteristically indicative of his homeland, and have always set forth to adequately depict the director’s own, unique feel and vision. Les Raisins de la Mort is no exception to this, perhaps serving as France’s own answer to George Romero’s Dawn of the Dead. Yes, it’s really quite good. So why not check it out, oui?
Lightning Swords of Death-The Extra Dimensional Wound (Metal Blade)
Woo boy, that’s a bad ass name, indeed! Shame the band’s tunes don’t really go over-the-top often enough to really warrant such a title.
Los Angeles-based black metal has always been a tricky proposition, and Lightning Swords of Death is no exception to the rule, not really ringing ‘true’ beyond their city’s glitz ‘n glamour.
Though The Extra Dimensional Wound is capable in its intent and musical acumen, the songwriting level here never really rises above B-grade level, instead idling in neutral above a warmed-over, post Watain snarl. The riffs are semi-melodic and punk fueled at times-one of the album’s few boons-but it’s never enough to really push Lightning Swords of Death into the big leagues, or the minor leagues, really.
Instead, the band fizzles ‘n fades into faceless obscurity, suiting only opening act status, without any hopes-at least as of now-to crawl up and make a name for itself. If Lightning Swords of Death can really find a way to up the ante of their compositions, sharpen their riffs to kill precision and REALLY make a go of it, we may be able to salvage some love for our West Coast blasphemous brethren.
Until that time comes, however, Lightning Swords of Death are up Satan’s creek without a paddle.
