Forgotten Tomb - ...and Don’t Deliver Us from Evil
Seth Putnam liked Earache better when Dig answered the phone, and I liked Forgotten Tomb better when it was just Herr Morbid. However, …and Don’t Deliver Us from Evil is a step toward a darker tomorrow. In truth, this Italian Depressive Black Metal unit only have one completely flawless album (2002’s Songs to Leave) and one truly awful album (2007’s Negative Megalomania) to their credit, while the rest tread on the more worthwhile side of the middle ground. Last year’s Under Saturn Retrograde showed signs of a return to suicidal form, and this prompt follow-up is even better yet. Of course you wouldn’t know that judging by album opener “Deprived,” which showcases the same greasy Sleaze Rock edge that made Megalomania so unlistenable, but the ensuing title track sizzles with the bitter melodies, scornful rage, and lyrical misanthropy I’m in search of when I reach for a Forgotten Tomb record. “Cold Summer” and “Love Me Like You’d Love the Death” are decent bleak tunes, but not great ones, and at 8+ minutes each they’re officially declared filler. Meanwhile, “Let’s Torture Each Other” reeks of Garage Rock/Gutter Punk influence. Perhaps last year’s Stooges cover and GG Allin tribute didn’t quite exorcise all such demons? In all fairness, it should be noted that Morbid & Co aren’t completely terrible at the whole Rock/Punk thing. It just sounds like a BM band having fun… which is unfortunately somewhat of a detraction from the Suicidal Depressive vibe these guys are masters of. By the way, there’s a reason dirty Punk songs aren’t normally six minutes long! Luckily the LP ends on a we’ve-saved-the-best-for-last note with the one-two punch of “Adrift” and “Nullifying Tomorrow.” The former being the best song they’ve written since the immortal “Alone.” Sharp morose tones, a mournful sonic weight, and a highly improved clean singing voice. Admittedly, it might be a touch too much on the Depeche Mode side of things for some, but I love the way it drives the profanity-laced chorus into the memory banks. The latter is just a pure anthemic wrist-slicer, with many a nod to the miserable magnificence of early-career Katatonia. If you ask me, Morbid just needs a side project to blow his Hard Rock load with. Fill the Tomb with only sadness. (This pleases Negativity).
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