Yës, thät rëälly is än ümläüt. And much as this, the moronic lyrics and the poor grammar permeating The Hatred Inside signified otherwise, Blëed hail from an English-speaking part of the world – Alberta, Canada. I usually like to introduce a review leaving some degree of suspense as to my feelings towards an album, but there are so few redeeming qualities here that I’m not going to bother. Imagine third-rate Slayer-worship, a guitar tone so doctored it almost resembles djent, and lyrics so mindlessly asinine and violently vacuous that they actually pain me to hear them. Throw in a faltering vocalist and unimaginative song-writing and you have The Hatred Inside. Intrigued?
Firstly, the music is very formulaic. Many of the riffs energetically board the re-thrash train, and are exactly as enthusing and original as this suggests. This thrashy chug underpins most tracks, with a strangely dense guitar tone which evokes djent. Why djent was imitated and not just utilized can only be explained by the unnamed producer, but this decision made for an alarming opening listen. Moreover, rarely will these mid-paced riffs sufficiently raise your blood to incite head-nodding, let alone reckless moshing in the pit. Almost every track features a second-half guitar solo which rears its wanky head on cue directly after the mid-point of the songs. You can almost picture the guitarist viciously tugging the head of his tool as he sprays notes everywhere, little regard given to subtlety or harmonizing with the surrounding music. Unimaginative percussion underpins repetitious riffs which precede predictable solos.
But worse than this, degrading the material from insipid to nigh-on unlistenable, are the vocals. They fall somewhere between shouts and growls, not particularly satisfying either camp, occasionally breaking into an ear-splitting shriek for moments of apparently heightened emotion. Not only does this generate an unsatisfying sound for the listener, but it ensures that the lyrics are actually quite audible. This would be fine if they were even average, but they’re so poor that they actively worsen things. Try the delightfully childish diction and attitude in “Never will you know why am I so mean” (“Deceiver”) and “Where did you go? Can I follow?” (“Committed”), or the misogynistic promise of “See you sleeping through the window / I’ll make your face such an ugly sight” (“Suffocate”). I don’t even know how I’m supposed to read the song “Hate March Kill.” Are we killing a hate-march? Are we killing out of hatred in March? The lack of thought in the lyrics epitomizes an album which is sub-par across the board.
There are tiny moments wherein Blëed shows signs of life, but these are so fleeting that they only go to highlight how deficient the majority is. The slower riff at 2:50 of “Suffocate” has a swinging groove and harmonizes pleasingly with some vaguely more interesting drumming, and the layered guitars and prominent bass from 3:15 of “Obelisk” is quite cool. But these passages only last around 20 seconds, demonstrating a thorough obliviousness to what actually works. They certainly aren’t good enough to impact my overall view of The Hatred Inside.
I suppose the positive to be taken here is that Blëed proffers retro thrash which isn’t entirely derivative, with its djentisms and core-style breakdowns. But the hatred is certainly inside me, and not in the bench-pressing bros brawling in the mosh pit kind of way that they intended. Blëed is blëeding out.