“A rye and ginger made in subtly wrong ways is, after many listens, how I’ve come to view Mortuary’s latest record, The Autophagous Reign. I rated highly its predecessor, Nothingless than Nothingness — a rating I stand by. Both are the same in the sense that this or that rye and ginger are the same. But as we all know, not all rye and gingers are created equal, even if we use the same rye and ginger-ale.” Drinking with the dead.
“I wish I was born with the ability to remain blissfully ignorant, especially when it comes to the music you and I enjoy. For starters, my output would increase exponentially from not saying “fuck this bullshit” due to bands promoting questionable beliefs this calendar year alone, and I would most likely review an album at face value. Oh, and I would relish in the sheer joy of ignoring the fact sheet that comes packed with about 75% of the music we review. What am I getting at, you may ask? Tetanus Mystique, the second album by French “blackened” death metal merchants Mithridatic, is based on writer Roger Gilbert-LeComte, and his getting high by injecting tetanus into himself. Lovely. Oh, and the album prides itself on being an unflinching look into mental illness and stability.” Bad science.
“Death metal enjoys an incredibly unique lexicon and reviewing it is certainly no exception. It’s infinitely tempting to utilize the obvious descriptors to transcribe the genre’s density. One common metaphor that often fits the violent aesthetic is slaughter. The opportunities to wield synonyms for slicing and dicing, no to mention the anatomical possibilities, are rife. The French/Québecois compound Disowning know a little something about said extremity as evidenced on debut album Human Cattle.” Welcome to the abattoir.
“If life really is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury and signifying nothing, then France’s Ataraxie have an unenviable inside line. Doom metal is always downtrodden, and its more extreme iterations never fail to manifest the maudlin. But the inherent ceremony and circumstance rarely coalesce into as voracious a sonic black hole as heard on Résignés. The band’s fourth album is an unnatural aperture into a single moment of crushing and immutable understanding. Although it doesn’t deviate from their discography’s trajectory, it just might perfect it.” Welcome to the end.
“A hacky joke that everyone can relate to is the excruciating process of picking a restaurant with a woman who’s okay with ‘anywhere.’ ‘No, I don’t feel like tacos.’ ‘No, I had red meat two days ago and that’s a steakhouse.’ ‘We went there two months ago, I want something new.’ ‘It’s not called The B.K. Lounge, it’s Burger King, and we’re not going there.’ Repeat ad infinitum, or at least ad fame. Before we get too comfy on our high horse (or eat it on a pizza, which is shockingly delicious), metalheads generally are the same way.” Delicious like horse pizza?
“I’ve come around to better goregrind since, first by early Carcass and then Haemorrhage and General Surgery. Novelty grind, such as the shockingly good Trappist, has also wormed its way into my rotation. I haven’t listened enough to form an opinion, but Bitchfork and their “farm grind” is making a splash too. Defecal of Gerbe is novelty goregrind, except instead of gore the focus is on the scatological. Mothershit is also sung in French, meaning I miss about ninety percent of the jokes outside of some titles. C’est la vie.” POO-urns.
