Fuck the Facts - Die Miserable
If this was the only kind of music I had to listen to, I would die miserable. These Canucks can grind and blast with anybody. They have an incredible drummer and Mel Mongeon might be the best female vocalist I’ve ever heard in a Grindcore band. I wonder why there aren’t more convincing female Death/Grind vocalists. Scientists have proven that a woman’s aura can devour souls, and it’s a medical fact that their hearts pump a black, viscous, bile-like fluid that sustains the lifeforce only through human suffering. So why can’t more of them growl? Anyway, what little they do well is far from being enough. You kinda actually have to write songs, too. At their maximum speed they are impressive but unoriginal and boring, and when they do try to mix it up, it gets even worse. Take “Census Blank” for instance. Some kind of excruciating part-Neurosis/part-Thrash funeral procession that is all over the place. Even a return to blasting insanity towards the end can’t save the song. This leads into the even more scatterbrained “Alone,” which is basically an annoying noise intermission with randomly spewed vocals. The title track sees a return to the freakish, high-speed Grind, but by now the record has become so mind-numbingly mundane that you can actually hear the guitarists forgetting how to play. “A Coward’s Existence” introduces a bit of despondent melody to the fold before exploding back into Punkish banality, but at this point I just want to make it stop and listen to something coherent instead. This band has no idea who they are or what they want to do. My French is a little rusty, but I think I know what Mel is saying at the end of album closer “95.” She’s saying, “Hello, we are a talented band. Unfortunately all we really know how to do is fuck around. We hope you enjoyed listening to us practice for a half hour. This concludes the 3,465th release of our 10-year career. Thanks to Relapse for actually paying to have this slop recorded and for believing in Extreme Jam bands like us all over the world.” Lifeless anti-music for vapid poseurs.
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