Not that I have anything close to a problem with it, but Finland’s Sacrilegious Impalement wear their influences on their collective sleeve, with (early) Emperor at times being the most obvious (check out “Enter Godhood”), and Naglfar a close second. Hellwind Inferion’s vocals are effective but surprisingly understandable, and speaking of Naglfar, remind me of a slightly less raw version of Kristoffer Olivius’ tortured screams. Considering that I’ve just compared SI to two of the heaviest hitting Black Metal bands ever (in my opinion, obviously), you might understandably think that these blasphemers could stand with them in the unhallowed halls of Hell. Well, not quite yet, as the first 25 a-cappella-Dead-Can-Dance-wannabe seconds of “Blessed to Resist” confusingly show. But if this entire album were as stunning as the flawless “Wolves of the Black Moon,” the masters would truly have to watch their backs. The other tracks are not far behind that standard, either, with only minor imperfections to be found. Sacrilegious Impalement clearly know how to write memorable songs, and are not afraid to mix up the tempos, swinging from speed and intensity to dismal atmosphere and gloom at the drop of an axe, even injecting a shadow of a Death Metal riff when the time is right. II - Exalted Spectres, which is the band’s second full-length album (after 2009’s Cultus Nex, two previous EPs and a demo), must be listened to a few times to fully appreciate its depth.

My idiocy regarding In Flames has been well documented. I gave up on the band in 2000 when Clayman came out. I thought they’d completely wussed out. Come to find out, I didn’t know it all at age 21. Fast forward a decade later and my favorite song by them is the near-Country ditty from Reroute to Remain (“Metaphor”). What I’m trying to say is that I was wrong and I have no problem admitting it. I love newer In Flames. They have a unique, memorable, instantly identifiable sound and pull it off live to boot. Now that I think about it, I probably haven’t listened to the Mikael Stanne-fronted material since the age of 21. So with my confessional out of the way, let’s get to what is both wrong and right about this poorly titled new release, which is also the first without original founding guitarist Jesper Stromblad. The good: big choruses. It’s their strength. Even the second-tier tracks are sure to have massive choruses that are catchier than hepatitis. The cream of the crop being “Where the Dead Ships Dwell,” which is by far the album’s best song and best lyrics. The production is also stellar as usual. The bad: a bit more filler than expected from them. Tracks like “The Attic” and “Jester’s Door” are pointless and lull the album’s energetic vibe to sleep. Anders Friden is also getting somewhat more adventurous with his vocals from time to time. Those of you familiar with the album’s first single, “Deliver Us,” know exactly what I mean. Certain spots here and there on many other tracks also reveal Friden trying to channel his inner Barry Manilow, and it just doesn’t work. So a slightly flawed album, but still a good one. It just happens to be a moderately weaker link in a chain of super high quality albums that date back… to the beginning really. But the next one may tell the real tale of just how much Stromblad will be missed.

When it comes to Gothic Doom Metal of the female singer/male growler variety, Draconian are about the last band standing. Most of the quality bands of this ilk from the past (Theatre of Tragedy, Within Temptation) could not resist the urge to go the trendfucking route and ended up sounding like Wilson-Phillips. Not so for these Swedes, in fact quite the opposite. They actually refuse to change, having not done so one bit since their 2003 breakthrough full length, Where Lovers Mourn. Same style, same record label, same lineup (save for revolving bassists and keyboard players early on), same, same, same. Call them the AC/DC of Gothic Doom if you will (but please don’t). I’m not complaining, I respect stability and consistency. I admire it and strive for it myself. If it isn’t broken why the fuck fix it? I just find it hard to believe they’ve been able to achieve this level of it for eight years with a woman in the band. Just kidding, ladies! (Well… not really). And it definitely isn’t broken. Lisa Johansson and Anders Jacobsson’s beauty and the beast attack still sounds great, the music is still heavy yet dripping with melancholy, and the band still owe enough of their sound to Katatonia to keep me loyal (the main drum beat on “End of the Rope” sound familiar?). Still, I’m beginning to wonder if they’ll ever top 2005’s Arcane Rain Fell. Again, stylistically no different from what A Rose for the Apocalypse has on display, but that album had an air of perfection about it. It is their magnum opus, their Turn Loose the Swans, their Gothic. Ah, the heartbroken “Daylight Misery”… Fans of this style curious to seek this band out should probably start there first.

Sometimes wishes do come true. Mat motherfucking Bruso is back on the mic for Bury Your fucking Dead. This is how these guys were meant to sound. No more wretched Sevendust vocals as Myke Terry, who replaced Bruso in 2007 and completely wiped his ass with the band’s reputation over the course of two albums, has left to pursue a solo career. Good luck with that, buddy. It’s so nice to have the hardest Hardcore band of all time back and kicking ass like the good old days. By that I mean 2004’s Cover Your Tracks, arguably the heaviest Hardcore album ever made, its influence still echoing today. As much as I’m sure they’d like to deny it, Deathcore probably wouldn’t exist without these guys. The Emmures and Acacia Strains of the world might also sound much different. I’m overjoyed to report that Mosh ‘n’ Roll is basically Cover Your Tracks 2 (or part 3 if you want to count 2006’s solid follow up, Beauty and the Breakdown, as part 2). Don’t let the silly name fool you, this album is as serious as death by blunt force trauma. The band just like to have a bit of fun naming things. All of the song titles from the aforementioned 2004 masterpiece were Tom Cruise movies. This album they’re named after Kurt Vonnegut books, which is worth a perfect score by itself if you ask me. For the uninitiated, Bury Your Dead songs are essentially little more than collections of pulverizing, massive breakdowns. Simple, monstrous, diamond-hard, Godzilla-heavy breakdowns that serve as the perfect vehicle for Bruso’s venomous, hate-filled, bitter, foul-mouthed, smart-ass lyrics. The band create the heaviest grooves imaginable and even inject depressing melody where need be, as found on haunting crusher “The Sirens of Titan.” There simply are no flaws to be found on this record. The band wisely never step outside their comfort zone, doing what they do better than anyone else can. The only bad thing I can say is that I may have to sue them for whiplash as I cannot stop headbanging. As always they finish off the album with their signature stamp, the trademark eponymous gang vocal anthem (listed as the title track this time) which is always hard to resist singing along to. It will be even harder to get this out of my stereo any time soon, as I now have my top contender for album of the year. Now my only wish is that all fans of Sludge, College Doom, and Pirate Metal listen to this album and blow their fucking brains out with a sawed-off double-barrel shotgun. “Your tombstone reads the lies that your body couldn’t sell while you were alive.”

Make no mistake about it, Salt Lake City Deathcore sextet Chelsea Grin are a pure Suicide Silence clone. However, you can check my recent review of The Black Crown and discover I don’t necessarily find that to be a bad thing. In fact, this album’s show-stealer, vocalist Alex Koehler, might even have Suicide Silence frontman Mitch Lucker beat in the tortured scream department. These are seriously some of the most agonizing high-pitch screams ever recorded. Seriously, I thought my larynx was bleeding just from hearing it. These guys also come at you with a very potent, Whitechapel-style triple guitar assault. Fitting then that frontman Phil Bozeman makes a guest vocal appearance on crushing album closer, “All Hail the Fallen King.” Fit for an Autopsy’s Nate Johnson also contributes a vocal cameo on “Calling in Silence,” which incidentally might be Koehler’s most crazed, demon-possessed performance on the record. My only real complaint, and it is a minor one, is the instrumental, “Kharon.” While it serves as a pretty breather, it seems a bit pointless. Especially compared to the instrumental on their 2010 debut, Desolation of Eden, the mesmerizing “Elysium.” I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t my favorite song on the album. If Deathcore isn’t your thing, this won’t be the band or album that changes your mind. My Damnation is pretty much straight up by-the-book. Heavy, breakdown-fueled, melodic, brutal, raging, even the 2011 standard Zeuss production is present. But if you already serve at the altar of Deathcore, you just might have a new favorite soundtrack to all this summer’s mischief.

Folk/Black Metal is another cup of piss I don’t partake of too often. I usually find its uptempo songs and clean sung male vocals irritating more than anything else. Fortunately, for the sixth full-length record from this long running Irish band, their blend is decent. Truthfully this is the first album I’ve heard from Cruachan and readily admit that Ychoril would have a better background to review it [if only he hadn’t disappeared into the mists! -Editor]. Regardless of the fact that I’d rather be reviewing a new Abaddon Incarnate LP, I can still do this… pass the Jamesons! Blood on the Black Robe starts off with a deadly intro of what I presume would be early Celtic soldiers marching to battle. The first song is uptempo, almost to the point where I want to push the stop button, yet I forge ahead because the vocals aren’t clean. The next song, “Soldier,” is the perfect Irish war anthem and then “Thy Kingdom Gone” has violin passages that will make you do an Irish whiskey-fueled victory dance… of war! It’s a fiddle sound straight off of Silent Stream of Godless Elegy’s Behind the Shadows, which occasionally fills my cup. The rest of the tracks fall in line, but it’s really the strength of the aforementioned songs that kept me listening to the rest of this album. Not fucking bad after all!

I’ll be honest, I haven’t given much of a shit about these guys since 1998’s semen-al classic, Gore Metal. So, that makes 13 long years since Exhumed have really done anything for me. However, something told me this album was going to be good. Call it a hunch (back), a (six hundred and sixty) sixth sense, a gut (ted) feeling, or ESPN, I just felt that after an 8-year hiatus that Matt Harvey would be hungrier than Billy Milano at a Ponderosa. You know, it’s a damn shame I don’t gamble more, because I was right as rain. This album is more than just a return to form, it’s a cumming of age. The old stuff felt like quality ’70s Hammer Horror, but consider this album a gory psychological thriller (where Natalie Portman finally gets naked). These sickos have come light years musically. Just listen to those Maidenesque melodies on “Your Funeral, My Feast.” Not to mention all the top notch Swedeath-style guitar solos on this cut, and throughout the entire album for that (fecal) matter. If someone’s written a catchier Death/Thrash anthem than “Through Cadaver Eyes” this year, I’d like to hear it. “But I thought Exhumed played Grind,” said the poseur. Feast your ears on “Distorted and Twisted to Form” and “Necrotized” then, pussies. It’s actually how professionally this record is stylistically amalgamated that puts it over the top. Some songs sound like vintage Brutal Truth on meth, others are like Carcass genetically spliced with Bonded by Blood-era Exodus. Then other tracks do sound like Harvey & Co. circa ‘98. The album is just solid. Well designed, multi-layered, and multi-textured, just like my last bowel movement. A few moments of embarrassing vocal weakness by Harvey, probably just a little rust, are all that keeps this from perfection.

The first new full-length from this Grindcore supergroup in 9 years isn’t exactly end-of-the-world-party worthy, but how the fuck can we resist? After all, this is essentially Napalm Death with Tompa singing. What more do you need? Granted, they’ve never been the most memorable supergroup, and Necropolis Transparent doesn’t exactly break that tradition. This is one of those albums you pop in the car, you’re driving along, you’re digging it. After what seems like only a few minutes have gone by, you look down at your stereo and notice that you’re on track seven already. Holy shit, the songs changed? Then you suddenly realize that you’ve killed several pedestrians, but that’s a story best saved for later. Tragically departed original guitarist Jesse Pintado’s replacement, Anton Reisenegger (Criminal, Pentagram, Inner Sanctum), does a more than serviceable job filling those legendary shoes. He brings a lot to the table, as the most noteworthy moments of the album are when the jackhammering Grind assault comes to a screeching halt and Reisenegger drops an Old School Death Metal riff atom bomb. Wicked, crawling riffs very reminiscent of when… well… when Napalm Death started writing real riffs. May that time period be to each their own. Still, for all its extremity, this album lacks a certain something. It really does go by in a blur. So much so that after a half dozen listens, I still have yet to pinpoint the guest vocal contributions from Jeff Walker (some band called Carcass) and Lock Up’s original throatsmith, mastermind Peter Tagtgren. Which really speaks to this album’s mind-wandering trappings, because I should be able to pick out Tagtgren’s voice during a tornado, and Walker’s all over this fucking thing. Could it be the drumming of Nick Barker? Sure, he’s a speed demon, a blast monster, but I honestly think it could be his lack of anything else that makes this album feel like the same song over and over again. Whatever the case, it’s good to have Lock Up back, especially during this quality Grind drought we are suffering through. Hopefully further spins will reveal more texture.

Italy’s Regardless of Me is an odd band. At times, Pleasures and Fear gets pretty close to being straight-up speedy, modern Death/Thrash Metal, with raw/raspy (male) vocals, and an absolutely stunning, flawless production that is both crystal clear and tremendously powerful. Then Pamela Manzo jumps in with her silky-smooth, but energetic, lead vocals (which are stupidly distorted/modified in parts of “Dispositions”). And occasionally she brings along a non-Metal beat from the drum machine, too, or a piano solo, just to make sure we know that this is “art.” Pamela has a strong voice, but this can sound like two completely different bands fighting with each other in a mash-up war. When the riffs are good (which is not anywhere close to always - some in “From a Darkened Sky” are especially clunky in a Nu-Metal way), and they tone down the weird-for-the-sake-of-being-weird elements, and everything else lines up correctly, this band can produce seriously enjoyable music. But not often for very long, although the last few tracks seem much stronger and more coherent than the first several. Oddly, the cover of Madonna’s beautiful “Frozen” seems to be the best blending of styles (and signals the shift to the start of the better songs), although a crazy choice to Metalize, as the original is delicate and ethereal. I can’t remember the last time I thought, “That’s awesome!” and “What the fuck are they doing?!?” so many times while listening to an album. When Regardless of Me wants to kick ass (“Made of Steel,” “Never Lose Myself”), they do easily. I think that they’re just trying too hard to be “different,” and occasionally get a bit off course.

Sometimes when you hear just one song from an album you know you’re going to like all the songs. Such was the case for me when I first listened to the mp3 “Mater Lachrymarum… Mother of Tears” on Moribund’s website in advance of the debut full-length from Singapore’s Psycho. Yeah, it’s not the infamous Boston, MA Grind band from the early ’90s, and even I made that split second mistake while clicking the link. Was I tricked? Not at all, and instead I was surprisingly treated to a cool-as-hell track of blackened Thrash Metal. Since that initial introduction, I’ve listened to Pain Addict Pigs in it’s entirety a dozen times or more, and the whole album has given me the same hospitality with each visit. The coolest aspect for all the songs, after the intro, is the audibility of the bass lines. Phil Rind would be proud! Other reviewers have recommended this release for fans of early Bathory or Sodom and that’s certainly accurate. However, I’m going to venture out on a limb and say if you like early Sacred Reich (Ignorance or The American Way) yet with Black Metal vocals and horror lyrics then you’ll receive that coveted king size candy bar. All you need to do is knock on the Old Goat’s door.

Honestly, I don’t actively seek out albums in the Drone/Black Metal sub-genre because it’s really not my cup of piss. Paragate is composed of two tracks, yet both seamlessly blend into one song. Echtra is also a one-man project which, almost always, means an element is going to suffer from some sort of weakness. The beginning of this otherworldly musical journey is marked with a simple and sombre deep-toned acoustic guitar that would please any Swans fan. Later, and I mean much later, the atmospheric Black Metal elements are incorporated in the second track. Such is the mesmerizing effect, which one can reasonably conclude is what Drone seeks to achieve with its listener. Echtra certainly reaches that goal in spades, but I’ll admit it’s a pleasant overall listening experience without becoming boring. The short vocal passage is the weakest element, and the instrumental ambiance, the strongest. Paragate is a great soundtrack for long road trips because, just as you’re becoming entranced, an instrumental change will alert you to the past miles shortening your perception of the voyage. And if you were wondering… I’d buy this album too.

I hate it when I remember something -in this case, something from nearly 25 years ago- as being better than it really was. This new I.N.C. album is a horrible disappointment. I expected old school Thrash the way they used to play it (why else bother to re-form the band?), and although there are hints of that, it’s mostly not present, replaced with decidedly modern Thrash, and the worst clunky riffs of the abomination (and I mean that in the worst way possible) known as Nu-Metal, which was stupid enough when a lot of Thrash sell-outs were jumping on the bandwagon. But now it’s just perplexing. Hold on for a moment while I go listen to this band’s previous, and only, two other albums, 1987’s Razorback and 1988’s The Visitor… Okay, they’re not as good as I thought they were, but they’re not terrible. I don’t understand why Indestructible Noise Command felt the need to “update” their sound/style this much and still keep the same band name. I guess they wanted to play the old stuff live. Maybe seeing the marginal success of the reformations of Onslaught and Exodus made the I.N.C. guys want to give it another try, but do enough people even remember them to “cash in” on their name? Apparently Indestructible Noise Command just needed more than the 23 years they took to write a good album. I’d say “better luck next time,” but hopefully there will be no “next time.”

I’ve come to the realization that if something’s on Profound Lore, it’s going to get overwhelmingly positive reviews no matter what it is. Maybe they send hookers? I read somewhere, someone called this “the Doom Metal album of the century.” Excuse me for one second… …okay thanks, I had to laugh uncontrollably for about eight minutes just from typing that. Then I caught my breath, coughed a little, and then laughed hysterically for four more minutes. Deep, throaty laughs like when a person sounds as if they’re almost choking to death. The truth is, Yob don’t do a very good yob at all. In fact, people into Doom that actually hurts, that actually touches the soul, would say that Yob are doing a very poor yob. C’mon. It sounds like all Stoner Doom bands sound. Like old Black Sabbath, only not relevant or any good. The music’s okay (for someone else’s collection). Slow, plodding riffs that aren’t at all despondent or meaningful. Conjuring up images of a haze of pot smoke and chicks dressed like ’70s sluts. Speed it up and it’d be Phish. As usual, the vocalist is some jackass. All his high friends told him, “Duuuuude… you can sing, man.” He can’t. This would only be mediocre if not for his horrible hippie vocals. God damn hippies. Get a fucking yob. So, since Profound Lore didn’t send any hookers to provide blowyobs, rimyobs, or handyobs, I am going to be the lone critic (there’s two synonyms for you) to tell it like it is. Guys, don’t quit your day yobs. Great band name though.

If you take one statement away from this review, make it that not even Jonathan Davis can ruin a Suicide Silence song. Yes, the Korn ringleader makes a highly uncalled for guest vocal appearance on “Witness the Addiction,” but much like drunken sex with me, it’s over soon and forgettable. I didn’t even realize it was Davis at first and simply thought frontman Mitch Lucker lost a bet. My exact thought was, “god damn, that boy can’t sing!” Well, I was right, I just accused the wrong guy. This is only a slight blemish on an otherwise outstanding effort, so I thought it best to get it out of the way and focus on the positives, of which there are plenty. This is the third album from the West Coast Deathcore machine, and it might be their finest. If you thought there was nothing more you could possibly do with a breakdown, you were wrong (and most likely impotent). These boys take the exhausted tactic and breathe new death into it with impeccable song structure and a fucking unreal heaviness. Honestly, this Steve Evetts/Zeuss team-up might result in the best production ever achieved. If there’s a better one I’ve heard, it’s certainly hard to recall while you’re in the process of listening to this beast. Getting back to Lucker, his high-pitched scream/deep growl combo leans much more to the screaming side for this album, as the growls are unleashed with less frequency, but with perhaps even more gusto. As for his scream, let’s just say I don’t think he’ll be able to talk when he’s 40. It truly is vicious to say the least. Speaking of brutal pipes, check out the vocal cameo from Suffocation’s Frank Mullen on “Smashed.” There now, I’ve forgotten all about that gay Korn nonsense. The music is for the most part simplistic, barbaric, and rhythmically addictive. Not as much speed as prior albums, but twice the punch. It’s damn near impossible not to move your body to this in some way. Even the most Caucasian of us will be popping our fingers on the steering wheel to the double bass, snare hits and palm mutes. You’ll see many bitter critics (who can no longer produce an erection) downing this album. Google “hater.” Trust me, this album is much darker than Kevin Stewart-Panko. Deathcore still lives, bitches.

You know, I almost gave up on Unearth and I don’t know why. No excuse whatsoever, as they have never written a bad full-length album in their now decade-long career. For some reason in my dim-witted Dago mind I just thought, “that new Unearth is gonna be terrible” (begins drooling). Well, thankfully I was as wrong as you can be without some sort of legal ramification. Darkness in the Light is not terrible. In fact, it might be their best since the classic The Stings of Conscience debut that put them on the Metalcore map. Have they changed a single thing about their sound, style, or delivery? No. And who, might I ask, is the dickless piece of shit who sits around their empty home expecting a successful band to do so? They are touring the world doing what they love thanks to their stubbornness, and you are probably playing some kind of online RPG while you force-feed your fat, white body. Perhaps these theoretical “first person shooters” are who planted the seed of doubt in my mind about this album’s potential in the first place? Nevertheless, one listen eradicates all doubt. Melodic, heavy, breakdown-fueled, perfectly produced deliciousness. Guitarist/co-producer Ken Susi’s clean vocals are finally experimented with again. They provide extra depth to the sadder cuts, which stand out the most as sad cuts tend to do for yours truly. I don’t really need my Metalcore to invent the 13th note. It’s just gotta fucking rock. And holy shit does this ever, almost to near perfection.

I never did take the time to seek out 2009’s To the Death, the return to the scene for these Syracuse Straight Edgers after an 8-year hiatus, but judging by what I’m hearing here, I should have. The band have never sounded so focused, so precise, and so musically accomplished as they do on Neutralize the Threat. Of course their earliest material for Victory had a little more venom in its bite and more overall ferocity, but you know the whole fine wine analogy by now I hope. I really enjoyed most of what vocalist Karl Buechner did with Freya during his main band layoff, and I’ll be the first to admit I’m one of about six people who didn’t completely despise the band’s dismal failure of a swansong, 2000’s Slither. Sure it wasn’t really Earth Crisis, but it wasn’t the fucking Limp Bizkit album some critics made it out to be. However, you can turn the page on that petty argument now. This album is pure Metallic Hardcore brilliance 22 years in the making. This has the feel of their older records but with more refined skill. Production from Zeuss never hurts either. Breakdowns are employed, but not overdone (“Total War,” “Counterstrike”). Throughout the entire album, melody is engaged but never overplayed. They can even, at this stage of their career, tap into a Punk-like energy when needed (“Black Talons Tear”). Buechner’s angry bark is still as fierce as they come, yet the lyrical theme of the album seems to have a concept deeper than, “I’ll fucking kill you if you smoke that cigarette, cheeseburger eater!” Is Earth Crisis finally ready to have a beer with me?

As far as I’m concerned, Ringworm has never been able to top 2001’s masterful Birth Is Pain. It’s their Reign in Blood, if you will. The band’s debut, 1993’s The Promise, is a bit more traditionally old school Hardcore, but it’s not difficult to hear how these guys made the leap from that to the more “Metalized” style of their subsequent albums, all of which essentially follow the Birth Is Pain battle plan, including this new one, Scars (which I have seen quite a few times hilariously misspelled as Sears). But the intensity seems to be just a shade lower here (maybe a micro-shade), perhaps due to the somewhat duller production. I don’t know if Ringworm wanted a slightly less-polished sound, or if Victory only gave them $13 for studio time, but in any case, it’s not anywhere close to enough to ruin things. If I hadn’t listened to the band’s entire discography to prepare for this review, I might not have even realized exactly what was a little off. Still, I have to say that Sears Scars is possibly the least-essential Ringworm album, but don’t read too much into that, because the “least-essential” thing these Buckeyes ever recorded is still excellent, and well above most of their competition.
PS. I can’t believe that there’s a song on this album called “Angelfuck” and it’s not a Misfits cover.

Saying that Mystica Girls is the best all-female Heavy Metal band in Mexico seems obvious, but also feels like a back-handed compliment, in that they may be the only one. So, allow me to continue. These ladies can hold their own against anyone out there. As an example, the band’s beautiful guitarist, Cinthya Blackcat, posts her impeccable covers of Joe Satriani, Rhapsody and Stratovarius guitar solos on Youtube, just for fun. Oh, I know what you’re thinking, The Great Kat proved aeons ago that being able to play a complicated solo is far removed from being able to write a good song. Well, that’s not a problem for the tremendously talented Mystica Girls, as every track on Metal Rose is as moving and memorable as they are flawlessly written and executed. The musicianship is absolutely phenomenal throughout the album. Check out the mournful violin and guitar solos in “Mi Sangre,” and while you’re there, stick around for Red Jane’s excellent bass solo. Holy hell, would Steve Harris be proud! Speaking of whom, the classic Iron Maiden influence seems clear, although with a more modern (in the good way!) sound, and Alice’s precision Thrash/Power Metal drumming. I’m somewhat reminded of Blaze Bayley’s amazing Promise and Terror album, and only the best aspects of current Power Metal. If there is one very minor flaw to be found, it’s that Sofia’s emotional vocals can occasionally be ever-so-slightly less than 100% convincing in the English-language songs than they are in her native Spanish. But just listen to the heart-rending perfection of “Tortura” to hear what she can really do. Clocking in at under 26 minutes, Metal Rose is a short album, but stunningly impressive.

While calling this a “new” album would be a bit of a misrepresentation, it is a new release of two previously issued EPs (2003’s Conjuration and 2005’s Slaves Shall Serve) that have been long out of print. As Nergal is still fighting the good fight against cancer, expecting a full-length album of new material is just unrealistic for the foreseeable future.
The attention to detail in the packaging is impressive; featuring a 16 page booklet bursting with eye-catching new artwork. And there are five live cuts that were previously unavailable on the original European EP releases.
With only three original songs available as studio recordings between both discs, it is a bit light on showing Behemoth’s talent as a recording act (which increases in power and intensity with each new record). The bulk of the other material being cover songs, and the aforementioned live cuts. I have to say that the live tracks are absolutely crushing, and showcase a band that is on top of their game.
This is an interesting compilation of material, and a unique time capsule that captures Behemoth just coming into their own identity before the Demigod-forward era.

Okay, so a 7-song covers EP isn’t the most exciting event in the world, but at least it’s a solid set-list from the veteran Death/Grind masters. They know their way around a cover, too, as it becomes immediately evident that they mean business with this son-of-a-bitch and it’s not just something to stock the shelves with until their next album is released. Plus, these types of recordings set themselves up perfectly for track-by-track dissection. They lead off with by far the most obscure cover. “Fade Into Obscurity” by the sadly short-lived East Coast Death warriors Dehumanized, who did just that. The band only released one full length, 1998’s Prophecies Foretold, but that motherfucker hit harder than some entire discographies. Dying Fetus really execute the cut flawlessly and completely turn the song into their own, which I found to be a reoccurring theme with this EP. Next up they try their hand at Napalm Death (another band that knows a thing or two about covers). The obvious choice for them is “Unchallenged Hate,” -which they nail- and why would you need to go elsewhere than the classic Mentally Murdered EP for the selection process? Broken Hope’s “Gorehog” is next, and while it’s efficiently well done, why not do “Bag of Parts”? Please, just for me? Up next is “Rohypnol,” all 44 blurry seconds of it. The only Dying Fetus original track on display here. Thanks? The next two are my personal favorites. “Unleashed Upon Mankind” by Bolt Thrower, and “Twisted Truth” by Pestilence. If you did not raise the horns upon reading that, please commit seppuku with an olive fork. Pure Death Metal anthems from a time when life was worth living. They close with Cannibal Corpse’s “Born in a Casket,” proving something that I already knew, that these Maryland maniacs can chop toe-to-toe with anyone anytime. A very rare description for one of my reviews, and an even more rare happening in everyday life, but this EP is just plain fun.