Converge / Napalm Death - split
This split 7-inch features a very apropos pairing of two scene giants in steadfast decline. Despite a rabid fanbase of loyal diehards who would vehemently disagree, Converge haven’t put out a truly great record since 2001’s Jane Doe. Meanwhile, Grindcore legends Napalm Death have been methodically releasing the same solid-but-forgettable album for too many moons to count (save for this year’s Utiliatarian which was downright awkward). Still, a part of me wants to get excited about this team-up. Perhaps this little piece of wax will ignite the return to glory for both of these hard-working, boundary-pushing bands? No. No it won’t. It’s just a stopgap between stopgaps. Each band offers two tracks, Hardcore stalwarts Converge opening with 50 seconds of absolutely meaningless noise (“No Light Escapes”). This song would be filler on their all-filler anthology box set. Their cover of Entombed’s “Wolverine Blues” is at least interesting. Sure they butcher the song by injecting their own tight-sphinctered, spastic tension into it, robbing the original’s free-and-easy Death ‘n’ Roll bravado, but it is fun to listen to the bevy of guest vocalists —Aaron Turner (ex-Isis), Tompa Lindberg, Kevin Baker (The Hope Conspiracy/All Pigs Must Die), and Brian Izzi (Trap Them)— trade lines on the classic. I do have to wonder how many Converge scenesters who adore the band solely for Jacob Bannon’s totally bitchin’ neck tattoo will know/give a fuck who Entombed is. As for Napalm Death’s half… god damn! Somebody make Barney some tea. At least get him a throat lozenge or something. His voice is done. Finito. Muerte. He and the band sound like a shell of their former selves, and the EP’s intentionally lo-fi production isn’t helping. Their two cuts are as memorable as random binary code. The binary code is not red… please stop the code. Both of these innovative bands will always be well-respected and beloved by many an underground minion, and deservedly so. But recent efforts as well as this pointless split suggest that their respective primes faded into the rearview long ago. Neck tattoos notwithstanding.
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