Now that I have my fill of Waxen’s bizarre Weihung Auf Satan, it seems only right for some everyday black metal. That’s if you’re into that sort of thing. If not, today’s review will only upset you, but the name of today’s band alone ought to catch your attention. Black Fucking Cancer may or may not be amusing considering the bullshit that has recently hit Earth’s ceiling fan. What’s not amusing is releasing this black metal outbreak from behind the walls of San Jose. BFC calls one of the richest and most excessive cities its home, but, based solely on the debut’s nasty production, I’d argue for the band’s inclusion into the city’s tech-savvy network. Neither a member of California’s Black Twilight Circle or a band out to change genre standards, BFC is nothing more than your typical black metal connoisseur. Minus the whole Silicon Valley thing, of course.
With rarely mentioned influences like Katharsis and Antaeus, BFC delivers a lo-fi sound seething with anti-life and anti-conformity. Borrowing from the aggressive and melodic expansiveness of 1349, Black Fucking Cancer is exactly that. Black. Fucking. Cancer. The production is raw and unforgiving, and its sound is as uncompromising as a fifty-year-old dad in studs and corpse paint. The album’s aggressive side dominates the album, but many times a dooming, droning character rears its ugly head. Taking all this into consideration, the release is nothing new.
This isn’t to say this is a dud. The music is rather entertaining and most of the longer tracks avoid laboriousness. Opener “A Sigil of Burning Flesh” and “SinnRitualVoid,” for instance, reek of desecrated-soil perfume. The riffs encourage neck-breaking head movements and the attitude promotes genocide. The opener sports some kickass riffage and vocal arrangements as punchy as the chorus to Sargeist’s “Let the Devil In,” while “SinnRitualVoid” uses a bassy mid-pace reminiscent of those on 1349’s Beyond the Apocalypse. But here come some of the issues. As you will discover, patience is a must for “SinnRitualVoid.” “Blood Stained Whore” gives way to the moody feedback that not only closes the song but bleeds into the opening of “SinnRitualVoid.” This bleeding continues for five minutes. In general, though, the album focuses on neck-breaking speed throughout. The exception being the closing minutes of the melodic and depressive “Exit Wounds.” The constant tremolos and bass-kicks leave Gorgorothian bruises and the closing riffage crushes hearts.
Other than “SinnRitualVoid,” most of the numbers mentioned average six minutes in length. “Acid Ocean,” much like “SinnRitualVoid,” is one that exceeds the ten-minute mark. The aggressive first half is more than enough for a decent track. Unfortunately, it falls away, revealing a doomy transition that goes nowhere. The song, for some reason, borrows the moodiness from 1349 albums Revelation of the Black Flame and Demonoir, causing things to lose steam and wander for much too long. Closer “Communion of the Blood Unholy,” uses similar noises and effects, but they set a perfect path for this black ‘n’ steamroller.
As you may have guessed, Black Fucking Cancer is all about genre preservation. All the way down to their nasty production. Borrowing from genre founders and present purveyors like Antaeus, the band’s sound is as raw as my winter knuckles. But this in no way overshadows the individual performances. The bass provides significant contributions throughout (especially during those doom ‘n’ gloom moments). The drums are monstrous rainmakers; rapping snares senseless as the feet test pedal longevity. And the guitars and vocals are typical but beefy.
Black Fucking Cancer is by no means unique, and my enjoyment of it is surprising. For those of you that may be interested, be sure to give it a couple spins to ensure absorption. For those of you expecting BFC to be the same ole black metal, well… it is. Black Fucking Cancer doesn’t seem to give two shits about changing your opinion, so haters of the style might as well stay away.
Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 128 kbps mp3
Label: Osmose Productions
