I have no idea why Scion thinks that giving away music will help them sell cars, but if it means a free Immolation download, then I’m all for it. Ironically, handing out the CD (and vinyl?!) version of this EP for free at shows (and possibly at Scion “partner shops,” whatever that means) has only (so far, at least) meant that it’s pretty difficult to find, and is currently commanding much higher prices on eBay than if you could just buy the god damn thing anywhere. So, you know, fuck anyone so unimaginably retro as to not have a 9G iPhone666 with (under)worldwide access to the Satanic Data Cloud, or maybe just the desire to want an actual physical CD. That aside, of course the music is amazing. Immolation never disappoints and has been mandatory listening for well over two decades. These tracks sound as if they could have been leftovers from the untouchable Majesty and Decay sessions. If that seems like I’m possibly implying that Providence is microscopically less perfect, well… I am. But please don’t misunderstand, this is an amazing example of Death Metal supremacy that would utterly blow my brain out the back of my skull were it from an unknown or lesser band, it’s just that Immolation is held to the absolute highest standard, and even so it’s still astonishing, just not completely flawless, with minor imperfections in the mix (where’s the bass guitar?) more than anything else.

It doesn’t surprise me at all that I’m holding an Abruptum CD in my hand in 2011. It really doesn’t. Why wouldn’t he release something now? It’s perfect timing. This is an era where the douche from Sunn O))) can strum one chord, let it ring out for eight minutes with feedback, and one of the happy faggots at Terrorizer will call it ‘a brilliant mastery of permeating soundscapes.’ This is an era where Blake Judd could hold a microphone into the toilet during one of those Kuma’s Corner shits and some Decibel lifelover will say it’s ‘tripped out, otherworldly psychedelia.’ Potestates Apocalypsis will be on more than one of the cumstains at Metal Hammer’s year-end top 10 lists, I guarantee it. This is simply the age of misjudged quality. People will look you right in the eye and tell you that Jimmy John’s is “really good,” as they finish eating the brussel sprouts they ordered with their bread, lettuce, and mayo sub (now with transparent sliver of meat). Don’t get me wrong, I like War and Ophthalamia, but It and All aren’t even involved with this anymore. This is just some guy from Marduk sonically masturbating. It’s a mean joke is what it is. And that’s the only way this piece of shit could be of any worth is as a mean joke. Example: go hand this out at the mall to cute girls and tell them it’s your demo. It’s just sounds. No skill, no worth. Just annoying sounds. Close to 50 minutes of them. Life is way too long for such blatant fucking around.

For some reason I felt this was going to be these Aussie Funeral Doom veterans’ defining album. Coming off 2009’s breakthrough album, The June Frost, and a rare tracks compilation that really grew on me, I just had that feeling. Well, I was half right. Opening cut, “The Catechism of Depression,” is the best song they’ve ever written. A simply amazing song that explodes into total Doomgasm after an acoustic bridge at about 12:17… holy shit! The remaining seven minutes of this arrangement are among Funeral Doom’s, nay, recorded music’s, finest moments. When the vocals come in, Damon Good’s defeated guttural roar, it is absolutely mesmerizing. And then when the ghostly clean backing vocals come in, they take the song to yet another infinitely dismal level. There… right there. That’s what my life sounds like. This transitions into a variation of the riff, with the subtle bend, the pinch harmonic, the drummer nonchalantly mixing it up a bit, and then the second guitar comes in and you realize you just totally got lost in the music. Which should be the goal. The fadeout… musical perfection achieved. Unlike my life, I didn’t want it to end. The second track, “The Waterless Streams,” is a bit adventurous for these guys. I could be wrong but this may be their first ever song with no Death/Doom vocals. It’s a very Stainthorpe-esque warbly moan, close to spoken word, but it works for the dreary, funereal vibe the song possesses. A very Hammett-like gem of a guitar solo near halfway in. Soloing is no easy task at such slow speeds. You can’t fake it. The song dissolves into a very Katatonic ending, and at this point I feel like standing to applaud. Then we come to “The Bitter Veils of Solemnity.” Damn it! There’s no way I can sugar coat it, it’s twelve minutes of acoustic guitar with whispering. Let me type that again, and this time I want you to really focus on the ellipses. Twelve minutes… of acoustic guitar… with whispering. It’s pretty, but it’s too much pretty. Plus I want to listen to the first song again. The last song, the title track, is 33 minutes long. God damn, that’s a risky move for any band, but for a Funeral Doom band, it’s suicide (no pun intended). That’s really long, fellas. I don’t really even need a blowjob to last 33 minutes. There is more brilliant slow motion axework here, but at that length it’s a challenge to sit through. I tried but my destroyed mind wandered. Plus I want to listen to the first song again… on repeat… for several days. If these guys could ever make an entire record as good as that, and quit trying to merely outslow everybody, they could rule the world.

I will always hold a special place in my heart for Brutal Truth. I think it’s safe to say that the band’s early material was America’s best answer to Napalm Death. The dynamic duo of Kill Trend Suicide (1996) and Sounds of the Animal Kingdom (1997) were also constant stereo fixtures for a huge part of my late teens high school mischief. Watching them and Coalesce tear it up at the Fireside Bowl around that era remains one of the highest ranking happy moments in a truly insignificant life. I was more than bummed when they threw in the towel a couple years later, and more than psyched to hear they were getting back together a few years ago. But ever since the reformation, something just isn’t quite right. It’s like they were buried in that pet cemetery for seven years. (Voice of Fred Gwynne): they came back, but they came back different. I don’t know when, how, or why Brutal Truth turned into the new Dillinger Escape Plan, but it has unfortunately occurred. Nowhere in this hour-long mess is there anything even remotely resembling a good song. Just high-speed, incoherent, spastic, frenzied instrument abuse. For all I know the guitars may not even be tuned. And since when can they not write a song longer than 8 seconds? I’ve had longer orgasms than some of these songs! I mean, I can fart longer than this. Plus my farts are actually memorable and way more brutal sounding. Maybe if each band member didn’t have 46 side projects to deal with, they could focus better? Just a suggestion. I miss quality Brutal Truth in my life and it saddens me that they’ve become some kind of jumbled Math-Grind circus sideshow. The band now are a lot like the X-Games. Sure I’m impressed by the death-defying skill level, but I’m still going to change the channel to find something that is actually entertaining.

You know, I’ve listened to a lot of Folk Metal over the last decade or so and I’ve somehow gotten to be considered an expert on the sub-genre. I’ve heard good bands and I’ve heard bands that I wish that I could forget. I’ve seen awesome bands produce one album and then disappear and I’ve seen crap bands pump out album after album of audio horse shit for years on end while never getting any better. I’ve heard Arkona (the Russian one, not one of the other dozen or so bands with the same name) off and on over the last decade or so, and to tell you the truth, I’ve never been able to listen to them for more than a few songs at a time. This holds true for Slovo. Some of the songs are okay, but a large number of them are just hokey crap that sounds like a Renaissance Faire with electric guitars and a double-bass drummer. If you want a Folk Metal album done well, you can look to bands like Falkenbach or Cruachan (the latest album in particular is pretty kick-ass) because they remember that the Metal comes first and that the happy, bouncy, Ren-Faire shit only works when you’re playing at the beer tent. I wasn’t even going to pick this up but someone told me that it was the best Arkona album in years. I should’ve listened to my gut instinct, because while this may be the best Arkona album in years, that isn’t exactly saying much. If you want to listen to a kick-ass band called Arkona, I recommend looking up the Polish one, though their albums are all probably long out of print.

Maybe you picked up on this by the album title, but Glorior Belli combine substandard, pro-life Black Metal with Pantera worship. My dick writes better songs than Pantera. Pantera fans are happy faggots. Pantera’s music would best be described as Christian Soft Rock. Hurricane Katrina was punishment from Satan because Phil Anselmo lives in New Orleans. My dick is going to start an anti-Semetic Powerviolence band called Nathan Gale. Nathan Gale was a true American hero. I am the president of the Nathan Gale fan club. Pantera fans love Jesus Christ because he is their savior and he died for their sins. Vinnie Paul’s drumming makes Marky Ramone’s seem like World Downfall-era Pete Sandoval. The God Delusion was a New York Times bestseller because Richard Dawkins does not listen to Pantera. The Challenger mission failed because someone on the ground was listening to Projects in the Jungle. The Mayan calendar ends in 2012 because of Down’s last album. My parents got a divorce because of how much Pantera’s Christian Soft Rock sucked. Pantera’s complete discography is the reason the United States is in a recession. George W. Bush wrote all of Pantera’s lyrics. Many of the illegal aliens in the United States are going back to their native countries because they heard a Pantera song. Downs Syndrome was named after the band Down. In a nuclear war, China would destroy us because they don’t listen to Pantera. In states where it is legal, “Cemetery Gates” is the most popular song played at gay weddings. Animal from the Muppets was a better drummer than Vinnie Paul. Glorior Belli owe Black Metal an apology. You should not listen to Glorior Belli’s pro-gay marriage brand of Black Metal. I have to go listen to the first album by Make a Change… Kill Yourself to remind myself of what real, anti-life Black Metal sounds like. Real Black Metal bands are not influenced by Pantera. Intelligent people do not listen to Pantera.

This is some seriously fucking heavy shit. Not heavy like 8-year old girls think Mastodon is heavy, I mean heavy like Fort-Knox-is-fucking-empty heavy. I mean heavy like 9/11-was-an-inside-job heavy. I mean heavy like having-the-same-factory-job-for-50-years-then-getting-ball-cancer heavy. My only cause for concern going into this follow up to 2010’s equally bludgeoning Malevolence album, was new vocalist Jamie Hanks, who replaced Jonathan Huber, who jumped ship for Pathology last year. No need to worry. If no one had told me, I wouldn’t have even known they’d made a switch. Their styles (deep, guttural, traditional Deathcore growls) are remarkably identical. The style is pure, no-frills Deathcore, so if you’re some kind of happy faggot who loves life, you won’t be into this at all. I Declare War write breakdowns like they are the first band to ever breach the concept. And honestly that’s the approach you have to take. That’s why the breakdowns here are so skullfuckingly awesome. Forget about what’s not considered cool anymore by people who have never been considered cool. These guys have not only nailed but perfected the Deathcore formula. They’ve taken all of the hokiness out of it, and good riddance. This is dead serious brutality. I’m talking about popping-6-Advil-PMs-and-taking-a-nap-on-the-train-tracks serious. Which brings me to the cover art. I love it. Quite possibly the album cover of the year. A simple but effective statement displaying a damn good idea. As much as I’m all for individuality and creativity and all that junk, it wouldn’t bother me if everyone used this exact same cover art. At least then you’d know what the good shit is.

According to what I’ve heard surrounding this album, it was originally recorded back in 1990 as the first attempt at a true Beherit LP. The original tapes were lost and this recording was buried by time and dust until Sodomatic Slaughter decided to clean his room one day. Apparently, At the Devil’s Studio was in a box under his bed all these years and he didn’t even know it. If that’s the case, it makes me wonder how long it’s been since he last cleaned up. Having listened to The Oath of Black Blood many, many times, I have to say that the sound and the playing on At the Devil’s Studio is actually pretty good when stacked up against what ultimately became the band’s debut album. One of the hallmarks of old Beherit was the fact that everything was so sloppy and chaotic that it somehow worked despite itself. As you might expect, that’s all on full display here. Oddly, the flaws on this album -the tape hiss, the pops, the distorted parts and occasional skips where the tape was damaged- actually add to the recording rather than detracting from it. I found myself getting nostalgic for the days when bands recorded demo tapes on shitty Tascam 4-track recorders and then duplicated them on the cheapest cassettes they could get. The sound was always bass-heavy and distorted, but half the time that was the point. Fans of old Black Metal (particularly early Nun Slaughter, Sarcofago, Bestial Summoning, Worship Him-era Samael, Von, Necrovore, and Blasphemy) will surely enjoy this for what it is: a nostalgia release for Black Metal’s old timers. We may never see a “Golden Oldies” release for Second Wave Black Metal (the First Wave being Venom, Mercyful Fate and Bathory), but if we did, it would probably sound a lot like this.

Just the worst kind of piece of shit Death/Grind you could possibly imagine. Beyond fucking horrible. Pure fucking garbage. Noise on top of noise on top of overly technical slop on top of pure fucking shit. Zero entertainment value. None. No songs. No riffs. Zilch. Zip. Just noises and substandard growling. Guitar acrobatics and blast beats designed solely to impress other virgins. 40,000 notes per second for 45 agonizing minutes. Anti-memorable, anti-song, anti-entertainment entertainers. Fuck the audience, watch how many notes I can play. They won’t be able to tell if we fuck up because nothing we write is decipherable anyway. Look at my ridiculously unkempt beard. Gibberish. Pure mindless shit. Horrible fucking anti-music. No ideas. No musical value whatsoever. If all Death/Grind sounded like this, I would listen to nothing but Rap and Country exclusively. This band makes me ashamed to love Extreme Metal and to wear a beard. They have a song called, “Transmogrification into Bio-Luminoid.” Nice try, but I don’t believe you are intelligent. If you were intelligent, you could write a riff. Maybe even a song. If you were intelligent, your beards would look more presentable. Horrible garbage. Or as the band would put it, lurid offscouring. You live with your parents. Break up and kill yourselves. Pure shit. Pure virgins.