Carnifex - Die Without Hope
Huge congrats to Carnifex. New year, new record label, and a new album that has penetrated the Billboard 100 (circa piracy age) via pure brutality alone. This accomplishment must feel all the sweeter done in the face of so many bitter haters. These overnight Metal authorities who bash Deathcore because it’s cool to talk shit about what “the kids” like. Oh, boo-fucking-hoo… you live in a place where the youth support extreme music. You poor jaded faggot. Come live in the ghetto with Daddy. I certainly don’t hear anyone on the block bumping Hell Chose Me. “The kids” like a steady diet of Chief Keef and Waka Flocka Flame ‘round these parts (and to be honest, I’ll take that over Watain and Skeletonwitch anyday). These people want to pretend they were born the boring old assholes they’ve become. Like their elders never persecuted them for their musical taste in between rapes. The relentlessly horrible misery of life does not discriminate against age, and neither does the music that heals the pain, if only for a short while. I feel that I also need to address these My Little Pony Metal mags who label bands like Carnifex “neanderthal,” “dumbed-down,” and “trendy,” only to turn around and put Phil Anselmo on their covers. As if his musical output is some classy, original, thinking man’s shit?! Name a trend in Metal. Fake Phil has fucked it bareback. These delusional bastards pen their critique through some haze of narcissistic make-believe in which the opinions of their imaginary friends affect their own. How does it feel to be the sad white defender getting dunked on in the Dr. J poster that is life?
Die Without Hope is as solid a heavy record as you’ll hear all year. Taking a longer time in between albums than usual seems to have refined their attack, as much of their ‘core elements have been scaled back in favor of big league Death Metal chops. It’s not all blast/pit riff soup anymore — not that there’s a damn thing wrong that formula. Shawn Cameron gives the most bestial vocal performance of his career, while his bandmates provide a significantly honed songwriting approach as the backdrop. Slower tempos, pummeling chug, melodic leads, and occasional atmospheric experimentation allow the songs more room to breathe, giving those aforementioned blasts and pit riffs more of a finishing move effect. I am slightly disappointed by the complete absence of the band’s signature heart-stopping breakdowns. I suppose they’ve bowed to the critics somewhat in that sense. Still, if this monster doesn’t get your fingertips tapping the steering wheel, I don’t want to know what will. If you hate Carnifex, you must love puppy dogs, flowers, rainbows, and Jesus. I just hope the band doesn’t get into any legal trouble for using Indiana’s copyrighted State motto as an album title.
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