Malignancy - Eugenics
All you damn kids out there hearing this band for the first time, this is not your father’s Malignancy. No one was more stoked than myself to learn of these New York semi-legends’ Willowtip signing and subsequent first new output in what seemed like a gazillion years. This ultra-brutal Death/Grind unit began as a Mortician side project before the creation of time, but would end up garnering a cult underground following all their own by way of incorporating more complex songwriting and hella chops into the inherent, over-the-top brutality of their main band. But after hearing Eugenics, the concept of a minute-long sample + 45 seconds of aimless guttural blasting sounds absolutely fucking brilliant. I don’t know what this is, but it’s not Malignancy. I’m guessing there has been significant lineup changes. Like maybe one-to-zero-original-members overhaul. But I’m way too bummed to do any requisite review research right now. Here, you check for me… metal-archives.com …Was I right? Mostly all new people? I don’t want to know. And I guess it doesn’t really matter. Any way you slice it, this album is a schizophrenic noise clusterfuck. Technical to the point of batshit insane, listening to this record is like watching a skateboarder do highly advanced tricks for a half-hour. Nowhere inside this twisted sound mesh is anything even remotely resembling a song. Now I know how a pinball feels. It’s like trying to put together a 200,000-piece puzzle of a diarrheic shit, except none of the pieces fit. Occasionally something human will surface —an actual riff, the acoustic guitar arrangement, an actual drumbeat— but it’s soon swept away into a chaotic, Acid Jazz maze. For all I know, these eleven songs 3-minute-random-noise-experiments were improvised. Not like anyone could tell. I saw a Tech-Death band when I was a kid, but now they’re everywhere. The scene went and got itself in a big damn hurry. If you feel like hearing patternless growls and screams atop some kind of Martian fretboard algebra while an octopus on meth hits drums at random, here’s one for your year-end list. If you’re an old crook like me, Eugenics will only make you feel old, confused, angry, bitter, and alone. I want this album off my lawn.
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