“Obsessing over piss and shit / Fecal orgy, shit-stained I sit / Gagging from the stench so vile / Suffocating with a smile”
Boy, it sure is a treat to have Guttural Secrete back in action. 2012 saw the comeback of Dehumanized, capping a 14-year gap between debut and sophomore albums. Now 2013 marks the return of the safest bet in Vegas, ending a 7-year hiatus since 2006’s Reek of Pubescent Despoilment. If we’re on the same page, you’re also bummed about the letdown efforts from Defeated Sanity and Devourment this year. Well, ultra-brutal addicts can finally rejoice. Guttural Secrete is here to kiss it and make it all better. The nine tracks on Nourishing the Spoil will have you twitching in guttural glee. Their relentless over-the-top attack transports any fan of the genre to a state of eu-gore-ia. As a casual background listen, this pummeling record might seem like 36 minutes of babies being fed limb-by-limb to a garbage disposal, but a deeper investigation into the brutality barrage reveals hidden nuances and delightful intricacies. For instance, the atonal Sludge swamp near the end of “Stainless Conception” (“Lovesome cunt walls engross favorable suitor”), the eerie intro and bridges of “Deadened Prior to Coitus” (“Stink tunnel flooded with seminal bliss”), the depressive melody smoke-breaks on “Voyeuristic Engagement” (“Beatings continue while her body is still warm”), and the Prog farts on “Clotting the Vacant Stare,” replete with its own uncharacteristically melodic flair (“You can tell many things about a person by looking into their eyes / He could see in hers, she was ready to die”). These guys command an aural ferocity so viciously potent —a brutality so inhumanly mechanical— that their songs don’t necessarily need to be memorable to achieve replay value. Yet amidst this sea of endless rapid-fire riff-vomit, 666 pinch harmonics per track, and the unwavering raw sewage belch of Jeremiah Blue Jensen, you’ll find the quartet has spoiled us with just enough experimentation to remind the listener that this is, in fact, music created by musicians. After all, you know that old saying: “Subtle taste of shit… Accommodates belly full of hot piss.” An early contender for ultra-brutal album of the year that will be tough to beat.

Inexorable Defiance is an interesting album. When I first listened to it, I couldn’t shake the notion that I’d heard the guitar style somewhere else before, but in a different genre. I’ve seen this band classified as Black Metal on various sites, but this isn’t Black Metal in the traditional sense (Metal music played for the greater glory of Satan/Satanic ideology). This is Viking/Pagan Metal, but not in the Folk Metal style that is generally associated with that genre. Most of the Viking/Pagan Metal bands I’ve heard use Folk rhythms or instrumentation in their sound. It inevitably leads to the whole “beer tent at the Renaissance Faire” thing that irritates so many people. Bornholm doesn’t do this. The guitar style is pure Rotting Christ. If Viking-Era Bathory was reinterpreted by Rotting Christ, the result would sound a lot like what is on Inexorable Defiance. It’s an interesting combination, which is why I like it. That and the fact that I’m a huge Rotting Christ fan. I’ve heard quite a few different interpretations of the Viking Metal style, but this is the first time I’ve heard a Viking Metal band use the darkly melodic guitar style that you get from Rotting Christ. The only track on here that isn’t awesome is their cover of Bathory’s “Valhalla” - which isn’t a bad rendition. The playing is faithful to the original, for the most part. The song just doesn’t really fit here. The style is just so different from the rest of the album that it sticks out as an anachronism. Lyrically and thematically, it fits right in with the other songs. Musically, though, it breaks the flow of the album. It isn’t a serious detraction, but it’s something of an annoyance. I still highly recommend this, though.

Last year I criticized Jess and the Ancient Ones’ self-titled LP for being an unauthentic, boring listen, and I still stand by those words for the most part. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t take this opportunity to mention that the song “Sulfur Giants” has significantly grown on me since that review, earning itself heavy rotation during my nightly inebriation rituals. (Sure, the rest of the album is worthless, but in hindsight, perhaps a three-quarters-of-a-point rating spike should’ve been in order.) That sad ‘n’ soulful tune has also successfully piqued my interest concerning this prompt 3-song follow-up. If these three cuts prove to be half as good as my beloved epic, it’d make for one hell of a rebound effort. Or at worst, maybe one of them will serve as “Sulfur Giants 2”? No such luck. If anything, this ’70s-obsessed Occult Rock outfit is moving yet further away from the meaningful and the morose. The opening title track sounds like their take on The Munsters theme song, and henceforth, is quickly skipped the fuck over. Next up they drop a Shocking Blue cover on us. If you don’t remember the trippy Dutch quartet, that’s probably because no one does. However, chances are you’re familiar with a couple of their songs. Nirvana covered “Love Buzz” on their classic Bleach debut, and Bananarama’s only hit, “Venus,” was actually a Shocking Blue cover as well. Somehow I don’t think Jess and the gang’s rendition of “Long and Lonesome Road” will make the same kind of waves. It’s a fairly lifeless psychedelic ditty, perhaps a bit too true to the original for its own good. That leaves 15-minute closer “More Than Living” as the only hope for something salvageable. It is by far the best track here. Beginning with an acoustic air of somber melancholy given wings by Jess’s ’70s-diva-with-the-blues approach, the song subtly escalates into an all-out, organ-fueled hippie jamfest. Despite convincing sincerity and fluent playing throughout, this epic tune ultimately fails to sustain its emotional weight. So… yeah… that about wraps things up. Thanks for the leftover throwaway scraps. I think I’ll go listen to “Sulfur Giants” 33 times while masturbating onto my holographic Shroud of Turin replica and crying.

Florida’s Dark Sermon (the artists formerly known as In Reference to a Sinking Ship) have quite possibly crafted the most boring Death Metal record of all time. I’m talking about an album so boring, it’s actually kind of impressive in a trapeze-walking sense. In Tongues does not possess a split second of material that is capable of engaging or exciting the listener in any way, shape or form. Forty-four minutes of unimaginably unimaginative pummel ‘n’ churn that sounds like Job for a Cowboy and The Black Dahlia Murder fucked and had an autistic child. It’s not as though this album is terrible or weak, irritating or cliche, or even played poorly… but I almost wish it were. It would at least be remarkable in some fashion. I would at least remember it for something. No, instead it simply exists for the sake of mediocre existence. Nothing could be more middle-of-the-road without becoming actual roadkill. I wish I could go into more detail for you. I wish I could pinpoint exactly what is wrong with this WNBA game of an album. But the half-dozen or so spins I’ve lent In Tongues have resulted in experiences akin to alien abduction. I remember putting a CD in the stereo, I remember hitting play. Then there was some double-bass, some distorted guitars, some lightweight Deathcore barking, some blastbeats, dissenting lyrical template #9412, and then… nothing. Three-quarters of an hour completely lost that I have no recollection of whatsoever. I wake up in a field in New Mexico and my asshole hurts. One has to assume these youngsters scored a record deal based solely on the energy and enthusiasm of their live performances, or perhaps they are able to use their proven powers of hypnotherapy to their advantage. Either way, watching flies fuck would’ve at least been educational.

This is already the second Frostbitten album released this year. The first, We Prayed Under the Altar of Luna, is mostly Black Metal but had one track on it (“Altar of Luna”) that was Stoner/Doom. The Void of Insanity, though, is all Doom. When I reviewed We Prayed Under the Altar of Luna, I said that Frostbitten was better at playing Doom. Apparently, Frostbitten (the sole member of the band) agreed with me. Insanity is only marginally better than Luna, which is a bit of a disappointment. Frostbitten reminds me of Wrest from Leviathan in that he pumps out a tremendous amount of material each year. On top of We Prayed Under the Altar of Luna, Frostbitten has just released two instrumental Drone/Doom albums under the name Los (one entitled Darkness and the other, Light), and already has a new one (We Feared the Wrath of Lord Lucifer) as Frostbitten. That’s a total of five albums so far this year, and we’re only about a third of the way into 2013. If we were talking about Tupac, I could see this happening because all of those releases would be remix LPs instead of new, original material. Frostbitten is blasting out albums like an ADHD kid amped up on Red Bull. In marketing, we refer to this as “flooding the zone” and it’s a tactic that tends not to work. The Void of Insanity shows the weakness of this strategy. This could have been a better album. The playing is sloppy and the songs are very rough sounding; the hallmarks of someone rushing the development process in order to get a product to market. Frostbitten is opting for quantity over quality, and that’s always bad. There are some good ideas here, but they’re underdeveloped. Having twenty releases out there sounds impressive, but if they’re all crap, what’s the point? I doubt that Frostbitten will read this or follow my advice, but my recommendation is that he should slow down and work on his music a little more. Taking the time to develop a good song and getting the recording/production right always results in a better product. This sounds like it should be a demo or a rehearsal instead of a full-length LP. From a marketing perspective, it’s is a hard sell at best. Frostbitten has potential. I can hear things on The Void of Insanity that tell me that there is talent and creativity underneath the sloppiness. If those things can be refined and properly displayed, Frostbitten could, one day, be mentioned in the same breath as Angel Witch or Cathedral. But that day isn’t today.

The promise of a new October Tide recording is a close second to Katatonia in terms of anticipation and excitement. Granted, it’s a much rarer occasion. Formed in 1994 by Fredrik Norrman and Jonas Renkse, few debut albums are held as sacred as 1997’s Rain Without End — the last time we would be privileged to hear Renkse’s tormented harsh vocals (2008’s Ayreon guest spot notwithstanding). A Canorous Quintet frontman Marten Hansen proved to be a more than serviceable successor on 1999’s worthy follow-up Grey Dawn, but shortly after the LPs release, the Tide went on hiatus, not to rise again for a decade. Reactivated in 2009 by Fredrik, the following year’s masterpiece A Thin Shell would serve as a return so flawlessly executed it left this scribe literally speechless. Now, reunited with his brother and former Katatonia/Uncanny bandmate Mattias, North is promptly back to treat the gloom-afflicted among us to the aptly-titled Tunnel of No Light. Guitarist Emil Alstermark and drummer Robin Bergh return for the second time, but Tobias Netzell has parted ways to fulfill In Mourning obligations. A pity… I had hoped he would one day get to flex his clean vocal muscle on OT wax. In his place is newcomer Alexander Hogbom (Spasmodic, Volturyon), whose sandpaper delivery sounds eerily similar to Netzell’s most of the time. Perhaps October Tide’s downcast musical nucleus transforms its narrative host to the tone of its liking? His performance is remarkably solid, as if Alstermark and Norrman’s anti-life riff equation needed much assistance. The overpowering waves of melancholic mastery that wash over the instantly spine-chilling auras of sorrowful gems like “Of Wounds to Come,” “Emptiness Fulfilled,” “Caught in Silence,” and “Watching the Drowners” recall the depressive magnificence of the For Funerals to Come / Rain Without End era. Elsewhere, sprawling epics such as “Our Constellation,” “In Hopeless Pursuit,” and “Adoring Ashes” don’t reveal their staying power until the album’s all-shade black hole sucks the listener into many a repeated listen. Look, it’d be downright inconceivable to ask a band who’ve already overcome the loss of a god among men —although it’s comforting to know Renkse still contributes lyrically— to top three consecutive perfect records. Tunnel of No Light comes damn close. Perhaps now free from the rigorous touring demands of Katatonia, the brothers Norrman will maintain the band in the fashion it has always deserved. Long live the timeless essence of Katatonia’s Doomy past. Long live October Tide.

When a band releases a collection of rare and unreleased tracks, I always fear the worst. You see, rare and unreleased tracks are rare and unreleased for a reason. They usually suck Godzilla’s giant mutant reptile penis. If they were any good, chances are that they would have been included on an album or something more widely available. Compilations of rare and unreleased tracks are a quick cash-in, much in the same way that demo represses are. Gravkamre, Kroner og Troner (“Grave, Crown and Throne,” if my Norwegian is accurate) is a two-CD compilation of some new stuff, cover songs (Emperor, Burzum, GG Allin), B-sides, bonus tracks, and live recordings. There’s a lot here, and thankfully most of it is worthwhile. The material on display covers quite a bit of ground. There are tracks like “Lamb,” which was from a vinyl-only tribute to Von, that are fast and primitive. Others cover the length and depth of Norse Black Metal, veering from being influenced stylistically by Emperor to Darkthrone to Mayhem to Burzum. The live tracks, which comprise the bulk of the second CD, have a different feeling to them. In a live setting, Taake channels Hellhammer/Celtic Frost like they were a tribute band. Hoest even uses Tom Warrior’s trademark grunts during the songs. If you’re a fan of Taake already, or you’re looking for something that gives you a good sampling of what this band sounds like, Gravkamre, Kroner og Troner is worth tracking down. Even though this is a “rare and unreleased” compilation, it still is representative enough of the band’s sound for a new listener to get a good idea of what Taake is all about.

If you’re like me, you miss modern Metalcore’s good old days. The days before the incorporation of mainstream elements (namely Radio Rock, Glam, and Goth… the Hot Topic way). The days before the genre overdosed on cum. You’re tired of thumbing through magazines and seeing all these pre-teen Jonas Brother-looking motherfuckers dressed up like Nikki Sixx for Halloween. What could be the genre’s remedy for all of this fake plastic music and lame posturing, you ask? Black guys. That’s right, I said black guys. Let’s not forget who invented Rock ‘n’ Roll, bitches. And not just regular black guys, these are occult-dabbling black guys from France. Well, four out of the six members, anyway. Luckily those other two don’t have Bieber hair. Look, in all seriousness, I don’t really give a shit what any band look like as long as they bring it. On Will, Love, Life, As They Burn bring it, indeed. I’m not sure it’s even fair to pigeonhole them as a Metalcore band, but the guitars have that monstrous Acacia Strain/Emmure low end, and their use of breakneck groove is strikingly similar as well. Plus, the band’s on Victory —which apparently means guaranteed guest vocals from Frankie Palmeri (see “Freaks”)— so maybe it’s one of those guilty-by-association deals. It should be noted that the band’s bend-and-chug riffage occasionally owes a little to something to Meshuggah —it’s strange that I can’t stand Meshuggah, yet somehow find myself enjoying many of the bands they’ve influenced (A Life Once Lost circa A Great Artist for example)— and they aren’t afraid to wander into emotive Post Metal territory when the song calls for it, either. Make no mistake, these guys aren’t merely copycat killers under any circumstances. Their music has its own signature feel, due in large part to the passionate roar of Kevin Trevor. The angst and desperation that bleeds through the cracks of his voice create instant highlights out of “Medicine 2.0,” “Origin,” “Isis,” “Frozen Vision,” and “When Everything Falls Apart.” Bastien Jacquesson’s subtle-but-effective usage of keyboards and samples also serves to lend the band’s sound a unique touch. Overall, it’s As They Burn’s addictive energy and unapologetically pit-friendly delivery combined with an underlying sense of misery and despair that carries the album to the land of replay value. It will be interesting to see if they can maintain this vibe without resisting the pressure to “progress as musicians” (aka: turn queer). Keep it 100.

There has been some debate regarding the literal English interpretation of this album title and its actual meaning. After several hours of extensive research, I’ve come to the conclusion that it translates roughly to, “We are not good anymore.” Yes, folks. It’s unfortunately true. [My black heart is officially broken. -Editor] Not since Humpty Dumpty has there been a fall so great. 2010’s Danny Aealo LP was nearly a complete turd sandwich by Rotting Christ standards, and really the first thing close to a turd sandwich these Greek Black Metal legends had ever laid on us. Some of us are more partial to the masterfully raw, primitive malevolence of early Rotting Christ, others fancy the mesmerizing majesty of their melodic mid-career era [Or both! -Editor], but I don’t know anyone who prefers Rotting Christ as some kind of 300-themed party band. This new full-length was destined to be a definitive statement concerning our beloved band’s status. Was Aealo just a hiccup, or are their best albums truly behind them? When Sakis promised the media “a much darker record” earlier this winter, I was inclined to believe the former. Well… hate to be the one to break it to you, but it’s by far the latter. This motherfucker makes Aealo sound like Thy Mighty Contract. I’ve yet to even make it through the album in one sitting. It’s so atrociously bad, I have to stop and regroup. After the plodding intro of “In Yumen - Xibalba,” the song rides a decent blastbeaten hook straight into a trademark melody, but Sakis’ new throatier yell and incessant need to chant gibberish ruin any chance of replay value. Similarly, “P’unchaw Kachun - Tuta Kachun” buries another patented Rotting Christ moment between hideous tribal arrangements and awkward gang-shouted bits. “Grandus Spiritus Diavolos” has a slight Triarchy-like feel, and “Ahura Mazda - Anra Mainiuu” might be able to pass for something off Sleep of the Angels… if one were to remove all traces of sincerity and melancholic genius from those albums, and replace them solely with pompous theatrics. I could go on and on. The point being that every song proves to be ultimately terrible, with only a shrouded reminder of who we’re actually listening to wasted within. The exceptions being “Cine Iubeste Si Lasa” and whatever the fuck track 10 is called. If you can make it through these two without hitting the skip button, I’ll mail you $100. (Which coincidentally would make you the richest person in Greece.) This just isn’t Rotting Christ. It’s too jubilant, festive, eccentric, and melodramatic to be Rotting Christ. If the old coffin spirit is dead, then so be it. Let us respectfully mourn. Call this useless drivel something else.