These guys have really changed their sound in 2005. Not to fear, there are still quick spasms of high-speed, dissonant frenzy and Crusty filth (“Antidepressants Are Depressing,” “There Ain’t No Can’t in American,” and “Zero MPH Fallover”), and thankfully the vocals remain tortured. But for the most part, the album is dominated by thick, Sludgy downer riffs and Stoner abandon. There is more use of melody as the record successfully embodies the essence of giving up and giving in. By adding this new dimension to their sound, they have revived it without it ever having suffocated for an instant.

This album blew me away… for the first 30 seconds, anyway. Yes, Flo Mounier is still the blastbeat god, the band is tighter than underage Oriental vagina, and the guitar work is so technically impressive that I probably couldn’t play one of the riffs after ten years of schooling, but it’s fucking boring. Yes, I said it, it’s fucking boring. You are, in fact, about to read the only condescending review of this album you will most likely ever see in print. This is without question the weakest moment of Cryptopsy’s career, and I’ve been there since Blasphemy Made Flesh, so you can tongue-polish my scrotum, newcomer. This album is nothing more than one fast, complicated, brutal blur, and Lord Worm sounds flat out tired. His voice is weak and I can see now why he originally hung up the mic. I couldn’t tell you how a nanosecond of this album goes, and I’ve been spinning it for months now. Don’t get me wrong, I love Cryptopsy and always will. Hopefully this is just a speedbump, not a roadblock. It is for sure an unmemorable mess aimed more at the Tech Metal geeks than the diehard Death Metal legions.

Imagine a musical style encompassing Carcass, Necrony, Deceased and Napalm Death, with 100% pitch-shifted vocals! Very energetic and flavorful music that goes in all kinds of different directions, whether it be Thrash, Gore-Grind, Grindcore, or just pure Death. There are even traces of the legendary Sunlight sound within. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that the pitch-shifted vokills do start to wear by album’s end, but that said this is still one of the best one-man attempts in recent memory. Sure to appease many different types of Metalheads.

I was digging the fuck out of this record until I made the mistake of reading the lyrics. The music and vocals are awesome. Chugging, blasting, dirty Death Metal in the Broken Hope and Fleshgrind vein. The first song compels the head to bang and the chorus to be growled along to, that is until you realize he’s saying, “Scooby Dooby Doom.” Deep isn’t it? The second track is an inspirational story about a toothbrush and a bar of soap fighting. Other hot topics include raspberry jam, cumming glue, backgammon, pigeons, motocross, Winnie the Pooh, and singing in the shower. I thought the first couple Spaceballs samples were funny, but after the next ten or so, I figured I could’ve just rented the movie. I guess by the band name, song titles, album artwork, and Brujeria cover I should’ve known I was in for a joke band, but I suppose when I heard how cool it was I forgot. I’m not against humor in extreme music, but it should be done with moderation, and oh yeah, it ought to be funny. Bands like these are why no one takes Death Metal seriously, and it hurts me personally that they are Italian. If they want to make their next album worthwhile, while still retaining the novelty aspect, make it a Karaoke release.

I went to the gym today. Got a really good workout, had the new Darkest Hour pumping through the headphones. Finished up and headed to the locker room to change clothes and head home. Seated on the bench, changing my shoes, I encountered an 87-year old man, completely nude, fresh out of the shower. Nice fella, I think his name was Walt. Seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was totally naked, Walt propped his leg up on the bench where I was sitting and proceeded to make friendly conversation, mostly small talk about the weather and the Cubs, with his 87-year old ballsack dangling mere inches from my direct point of view. As awkward as the sight of Walt’s time-tattered scrotum was, I tried to be friendly. I told him that the weather did indeed suck and that I was more of a Braves guy, and then made a Carl Lewis-like dash to the front door, trying to keep my breakfast down in the process. I guess what I’m getting at is that Communic’s brand of dated Ass Metal-meets-Prog is the social equivalent to having 87-year old testicles right in your face.

I heard this is supposed to sound like HIM and the 69 Eyes. Well, I’ve never heard 69 Eyes (not gay), and the only time I’ve heard HIM was a cameo on a new Bloodhound Gang song that I thought sounded cool. This certainly does not sound cool. I actually dig where bands of this ilk come from lyrically, and the music here is a decent, albeit subdued Symphonic Metal with chunks of straightforward Rock. It’s these fucking cheeseball vocals, which sounds like a cross between Michael Bolton and the girls from Nelson, that fail to impress. I just don’t think I’ll be able to get into this seeing as how I was not born with the “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” gene found in most Caucasian males.

First off, let me say I am a huge fan of this man. He is a literary genius, esteemed author and professor, and a beacon of truth in a sea of political bullshit. I believe this guy, as frightening as his message generally is. Having said that, I’d much rather read one of his many great books than sit through 220 minutes of lecturing. If you’ve ever listened to the man speak, you know his soft-spoken but stern voice can become tediously monotonous, and he can literally talk forever. Listening to him drone on about the gloomy state of current affairs for close to 4 hours gives this DVD a painfully drab C-Span feel. It put me to sleep on more than one occasion. My apologies, but buy a book instead. (Might I recommend Hegemony or Survival? A real eye-opener.)

This Midwest duo have a few good ideas, the album cover not being one of them. Scary masks, guys. I’m absolutely terrified. Surprisingly the music is a refreshing blend of Ministry and Slayer with a decent Gothenburg-type scream. I like the melodic passage on “Hate Ate the Everything” (yeah, the song titles are a little dumb, too). Save for some experimental weirdness, bad sound, poor drum programming, and an overwhelming aura of unintelligence, Chant of Aggress aren’t really that bad.

One-man, beginner Death/Grind with a drum machine. A broke Mortician, if you will. The ultra-raw bottom-heavy guitar sound, along with many of the riffs, has a real Celtic Frost / Hellhammer quality that can’t be denied, but I really don’t see this material being highly sought after at this particular time. Maybe in a year or two.

Sometimes I get too excited when I see a band is from Sweden. I mean, it’s the country with the highest output of quality Extreme Music in the world for fuck’s sake. Then I see the guitar sound is co-engineered by Andy LaRoque, and one of the dudes is wearing my Possessed shirt. Oh boy! This is going to kill, right? Well, in my over-anxiousness, I neglected to notice that this band is called Chainsaw, this demo’s called Into the Pit, and one of the songs is titled “Lobotomy of the Easter Bunny.” Oh boy, indeed. This is, at best, beefed up, modernized Arena Metal bordering on Bar Rock, with an embarrassingly talentless singer. At ease, gentlemen. It appears that Swedish soil is also very capable of producing rotten crops. Now I have to go listen to Possessed.

Extremely brutal, guttural Death/Grind from Spain. Whirlwinds of pummeling bestiality collide with demonically deep gurgles, and the ferocity never lets up. The listener is kept interested, one of the biggest challenges for a band this heavy. The only thing that prevents perfection is weak, muddy production, which shouldn’t take anything away from the band itself, yet somehow does. Still, all of those underground sickos scouring the internet for the newest, most brutal shit out there would do well to give Cerebral Effusion a download. Or, just plain old recommended purchases for fans of Deeds of Flesh, Disgorge, and Mortal Decay.

Fast, hateful Black Metal that lays it all on the line, yet still ends up sounding like third string Marduk and Dark Funeral. They have the ability to play fast and not much else. Melodies are attempted, but it just doesn’t work. Aside from the speed, there is nothing memorable to speak of. Indecipherable riffs and grating, throaty vocals ensure I’m bored to death two minutes into the third song.

Extremely brutal Death Metal from Spain. Not much in the way of being memorable, but every once in a while they will slacken their Terrorizer-like pace and crush with something slow. These are the highlights for yours truly. They definitely have the right skills to become a great Death Metal band, and as of right now they are pretty fucking good anyway. Maybe it’s just the Spanish connection, but I am reminded at times of the mighty Sepsism.

This being the first new album with Messiah back in the band in over 15 years (as crazy as it seems, Messiah’s last time in the studio with Candlemass was 1989’s Tales of Creation, obviously I’m not including the ‘91 and ‘03 live albums), I was more than a little concerned. Reunion albums always make me nervous. Okay, Halford rejoining Judas Priest was a good move for all, and I was happy to see Bruce and Adrian back with Iron Maiden (although the reformed IM has yet to top the work of Bruce’s “solo” band’s last two or three albums). And no one was happier than I was to see Schmier rejoin Destruction a few years ago. But despite successful reunions like those, just one bad one can sour a person on the very concept. Take Exodus for example. Tempo of the Damned had one good track on it, “Was Is My Shepherd,” and the rest were just varying levels of embarrassment. I won’t even mention their new plastic abortion. Now that I think about it, maybe these reunions are more often than not okay. I even sort of like that new Obituary album. In any case, I should have never worried about Candlemass. With Messiah back on vocals, all is right with the world (of this band) again. I was just annihilated from the first seconds of the disc-opener, the Thrashy “Black Dwarf.” The Doomier “Seven Silver Keys” followed, leaving me stunned in its wake, and even on my first spin, before I listened to the rest of the album, I knew that this would be an all-time classic. The band’s traditional blending of Doom with Thrashier parts is as perfect here as it has ever been. Occasionally in reviews I mention a couple stand-out songs from the album in question, and I was all set to do that here. But as I thought about it, I found it nearly impossible to narrow down the list. Maybe the haunting “Seven Silver Keys” would be my pick, but all the songs are just as amazing in different ways. It is my understanding that some pressings (perhaps the digipak? Maybe only in some countries?) have a bonus track called “Mars and Volcanos.” You’ll want to be certain to get that version.

I always thought by never having heard Buzzov•en that maybe I was missing out on some old, cult sickness. Turns out I wasn’t missing shit. These are the earliest recordings by the band (To a Frown LP, Unwilling to Explain EP, Wound EP), and boy do they suck. Sludgy Noise Rock that fails to inspire on all levels. The nicest thing I can say is that the singer sounds like a constipated Cronos. Some stones are better left unturned it would appear.

I’ve been so spoiled by all the DVDs that Metal Mind has released that I just want everything to be widescreen, and that’s not the case here. Still, the video quality is fine, as is the audio, although it is surprising that there is no surround sound track. The only bonus feature (two songs from the Murder for Hire album) isn’t even on the DVD itself, but rather on a separate CD. But the one real complaint that I have is the this entire concert is one big chapter, so if you want to jump right to “Cop Killer” or whatever, you can’t. That’s lame. Still, I like Body Count, so this video is cool to see. I haven’t witnessed the band live since they literally destroyed the stage (the lighting rig collapsed into the crowd) at the 1993 Milwaukee Metalfest. I’m happy to report that Ice-Muthafuckin-T does not whip it out and tell Tipper Gore to suck his dick this time, as he did at that legendary Milwaukee show. Ice and his mostly new band play pretty much everything that you would want, with the notable exception of “Dead Man Walking,” which is one of my favorites, and not just because Ice says, “I read The Bible ‘bout 25 times, now fuck god is how I think.” If not for the technical shortcomings (no chapter stops, no 5.1, etc…) and the lack of bonus features, this would have gotten a little higher rating.

Basic, boring Black Metal with awful vocals. No focus or character whatsoever, just mindlessly screaming into the mic. My cat snores with more zeal.

Slightly underproduced, fast Death Metal from Mississippi that bores to fucking tears. Dude, it’s called a vocal pattern. Listen to Cannibal Corpse’s The Bleeding or anything by Deicide and notice how the vocals are structured to or around the riffs. Yes, riffs, the heart of the Death Metal anatomy, the engine of the Death Metal vehicle. Come up with better riffs and then pattern the vocals to or around them. It will work. People will actually remember how the songs go, I promise. And while I’ve turned this review into an instruction manual, could Death Metal bands please stop dedicating their albums to Douchebag Darrell? Douchebag Darrell gave less than a shit about Death Metal because there is no money in that genre. How about Chuck Schuldiner or Mieszko Talarczyk, the recent actual tragedies. The saddest thing about Abbott’s death is the wasted bullet.

Without question, the biggest disappointment of 2005. I’m sorry, but I was highly anticipating this long overdue follow up to the classic At the Mountains of Madness, it had only been eight fucking years! At the Mountains… was a ferocious beast of dynamics, heaviness, and sheer demonic power. This album is nothing, absolutely nothing. An exercise in excruciatingly painful boredom brought on by the relentless monotony of nonstop, unmemorable brutality. Yes, it’s brutal, the intensity never lets up for a split second, and yes, the lyrics still delve deeper into the pits of Hell than most bands could dream to go. Nevertheless, the end result is forgettable, so god damn forgettable. I gave this album every possible chance to grow on me, most times I ended up dozing off by track three. Maybe they can return to glory with their next album, that is if I haven’t died of old age by the time it comes out.

Here is a band trying to eat off the moment. If it’s popular right now, you name it, Bleed the Sky kind of sounds like them. Lamb of God, Meshuggah, The Haunted, Killswitch Engage, Shadows Fall, Arch Enemy, Chimaira, it’s all amalgamated here. Which ought to tell you all you need to know about their talent level. They can pull it off. The production is top notch, I’m not surprised. This band will most likely succeed. What they may lack in heart, they make up for with brains. My only real complaint is the vocals. The higher pitch screams and the clean vocals are just kind of faggy. That’s okay, people like faggy.