Kraanium - Post Mortal Coital Fixation
Ah, Norway. Famous for its wooden stave churches… well, the few that are left that is (HA!)… its mighty forests, vast waters, twelve hours of annual sunlight, and rich tradition of dangerously unhappy people. Anyone reading this ought to be familiar with its icy hordes of stargazing Black Metallers, and of course, everyone knows Norway has a problem with trolls (TROLL!!!!). But as I have discovered with this third full-length from what might be the country’s heaviest export, it’s also the home of relentlessly slam-happy Death Metal. Kraanium’s primitive mid-tempo assault may not conjure mental images of Vikings, but that whole raping and pillaging thing seems about right. (Speaking of which, I still have yet to figure out exactly what the hell this mutilated zombie rapist is doing to those female corpses on the album cover, but I assure you it isn’t nice.) These guys hack, slash, and bludgeon with groove so brutal it’s like Devourment playing old Dying Fetus demos so loud they’re Waking the Cadaver. Complete pussies will be pleased to know that Kraanium utilize the standard Deathcore breakdown very rarely if ever, and in their defense they don’t really need it. Their steady rotation of chug and blast will get the pit moving just fine by itself. And if you’re not a mosher, fear not; Martin Funderud’s guttural esophageal emanations will have that left eye twitching like Cookie Monster’s while you clockwise headbang. Dude sounds like John Gallagher on 666 tanks of nitrous. This album should successfully fulfill those gore-obsessed barbaric urges, and could quite possibly awaken your inner breakdancer, but at the very least Post Mortal Coital Fixation will solve the long-pondered query of what precisely is the difference between jam and jelly. And that alone is priceless.
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Koji Kabuto said:
“awaken your inner breakdancer”?!
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