Crepitation – Monstrous Eruption of Impetuous Preposterosity Review

Toiling in the underground since forming in 2006, UK brutal death and slam exponents Crepitation have left a lengthy trail of demos, splits and singles but just the sole full length, 2015’s comically titled, The Violence of the Slams. Even in its most brutal and over-the-top forms, when done well slam usually delivers big, bold, bucketloads of fun. And by all accounts Crepitation don’t take themselves too seriously, serving up goofball humor, zany songwriting and outlandishly silly song titles on their wordy sophomore album, Monstrous Eruption of Impetuous Preposterosity. Familiar elements are in plentiful supply; chunky brutal death riffs, slammy grooves, streams of blast beats and a ridiculously over-the-top barrage of guttural, utterly incomprehensible vocal eruptions. But is it any good, or are Crepitation destined for the slam scrap heap? Let’s dive in and get dirty.

Crepitation open proceedings in a cool and unexpected fashion with a Bojack Horseman sample, before unleashing their lowbrow brand of off-kilter, brutal slammy death. “Carcinogenital Space Hopper” lays down a sick, gurgly example of what to expect from its equally sewage-coated counterparts. Shifting tempos, slurpy pummels, and thick, bludgeoning riffs grind atop lively drumming, fat slams, and ludicrous dual vocals of Chris Butterworth and Mark Pearce. Even by slam vocal standards, this shit is on the outrageous side of the equation and will surely clear the room of listeners wanting to dip their toe into the brutal death/slam style. Basically, they run the gamut from the lowest gurgle growls, burps and vomits, to persistent pig squeals, grunts, snorts, grindy screams, and a plethora of sound effects, vocal manipulations and all manner of bizarreness – from demented duck sounds to clogged drain or malfunctioning machine variations. Check the propulsive “Rancid Blubbery Encrustments,” “Reeking Blobs of Globular Viscosity” and “Priapismic Whisking of Mucilaginous Concrete Slurry” for maximum vocal insanity.

The songs are relentlessly brutal and scattershot in nature, executed with exuberance from the seasoned outfit. Unfortunately, for all their humor-encrusted brutal slam intentions, the songwriting and vocal performances are not up to snuff to match their depraved ambitions. Although the album isn’t a trainwreck, it is by no means particularly good either. Initially, I actively disliked it, however, repeat listens brought a small semblance of the fun side of the band’s chunky sound. The vocals are cartoonishly entertaining but are also frequently grating and overly distracting, regardless of the likely intention to be as over-the-top as possible. Aside from the vocal aspect, musically the album lacks penetrating hooks and cohesion, with the odd decent riff or headbangable slam not enough to redeem the final package, despite the occasional oddball surprise or noteworthy riff or segment.

Occasional nods to Dying Fetus and moments where the music is allowed to breathe from the vocal onslaught and settle into a rhythm brings more success, such as the techy licks and slammy grooves on “Bloated Festering Mass of Corpulent Immensity,” or crushingly brutal throes of “Methanated Propulsion of Gaseous Levitation.” Props to Tripy’s drumming, which stands out amidst the relentless barrage, dishing out serious chops and tons of manic energy. I can imagine being the right level of drunk and this album could provide short-lived novelty appeal, while there are enough interesting moments and convention-twisting oddities to sustain short bursts of interest, albeit fleeting. There is solid musicianship on display, while the production and dynamic mastering works well, as the crisp but extra beefy tones and snappy snare fit the slam formula with rugged, underground appeal. Also, the song titles add a nice bit of side entertainment.

In the end, Crepitation are intent on ramping up the silliness and already over-the-top nature of brutal slam death and clearly enjoy what they do. It seems part send-up, part real deal, but despite the energetic dedication to their gloriously repugnant and uber-brutal style, the bleeding between songs, overbearing vox, and songwriting that can only provide surface-level satisfaction falls flat. Good slam comes equipped with memorable riffs and a keen balance of songcraft, catchy hooks and out-and-out brootality. Sadly, these elements are in short supply across Monstrous Eruption of Impetuous Preposterosity. Mileage may vary for hardcore slam and brutal death fans, but this is a pass for me.