“Historically I’ve not been awfully big on punk, particularly in its more melodic forms. More recently, though, I’ve been warming to the genre. I’ve always loved grindcore, am increasingly enjoying crust and hardcore, and the past year has seen me revisiting – and, swipe me, enjoying – The Offspring.” Looks like it’s time for an intervention at AMG. Now where are the spiked bats?
“Napalm Death, we meet again. For their last decade or so, these guys have been a model of uneventful consistency. Their notorious lineup changes seem to be a thing of the past (or perhaps not), and their last 4-5 albums have been damn solid. This is certainly a good thing for longtime Napalm fans, but it makes reviewing them increasingly redundant.” You might even say reviewing them is a bit of a…grind?
“Orden Ogan has a name that greatly irritates me, but they’ve been a positive force in Euro-power over the years with semi classics like Vale, Easton Hope and the very respectable To The End. What I always enjoyed about them was how effectively they could fuse the vintage sounds of countrymen Rage and Blind Guardian into something enjoyable and at least partially unique.” Love the player, hate the name. That’s just how it goes sometimes.
“A little confession: I chose to review the appallingly-titled 23 Acez sophomore effort in a bout of vindictive malice after grappling with a particularly hateful Spanish literature essay. I was pissed off and envisaged venting on a poor rock band just trying to make their way in the world.” We hate, because we care. Not about you, but other important stuff.
“Being my first review of 2015, I think it’s fitting that I wish all the AMGers out there a Happy New Year. May it be filled with joy! Conversely, I have two words for 2014: fuck you.” Before we embrace the shiny new year, Dr. A.M. Grier has to air some grievances. He also reviews some interesting black metal.
“How often do you think of an instrumental band that substitutes that wishful vocalist with the swooning leads of a viola? My guess is never. You never think of that. Well, the masterminds behind Sans Soleil thought about it for you.” My mom always says “if you have a viola, you have everything.”
“Yep, this is one of those albums. There’s not a sphere to be had on that cover, much less a corpse, but it remains one of the more striking and subtly unnerving pieces of album art around. It’s not like other covers, and Dimesland is not like other bands. Psychogenic Atrophy is the Oakland, California quartet’s first LP, hoping to ride on the coattails of bizarre death metal bands like Gorguts and Pyrrhon that we all love so dearly. Yet Psychogenic Atrophy provides us with a plastic disc filled with a music that is almost, but not quite, entirely unlike technical death metal.” No sphere to be had, but this is far from bad.
“When it comes to orthodox Swedish-style black metal (which I’ll call “orthodox black metal” for the rest of the review), explaining the general aesthetic is essentially pointless. I can call an album cold, frostbitten, grim, and evil until I turn blue in the face from hypothermia, but that won’t answer the one question readers have when they come to reviews: is this worth listening to?” Orthodox black metal for Christmas? I see what they did there.
“There is one problem I have with punk/crust/D-beat. It encourages me to fuck shit up. When done right, the music tempts me into driving 100 mph to work, marching into my boss’s office and beating the living shit out of him. While I obviously have some serious psychological issues here (particularly being that I am indeed my own boss), music like this sets my skin on fire and the only cure for this uncomfortable burning sensation is revolution, overthrow and apocalyptic destruction.” Apparently we found crust punk for the angry solo practitioner. Work your own hours and burn shit down.
“While the cover art looks more like it belongs on a Municipal Waste album, Brazil’s NervoChaos aren’t a current band playing the music of their elders. They are the real deal.” Al Kikuras has history with these creepers. Ugly history!
