“Admittedly, when I think of punk-infused thrash, I think of how Toxic Holocaust’s Hell on Earth release a decade ago planted its seed of bad demeanor in my ear. From there this seed took root and blossomed as a love for (most) of Toxic Holocaust’s succeeding releases.” Can Bonehunter steal the Doctor’s love like a thief in the night?
“As made blatantly obvious in my first review of 2015, last year left me drained, beaten, and more fucked over than a single person can stand. So, it is only fitting that Hellbastard’s brutally honest and extremely pissed-off Feral allowed me the opportunity to let everything go, smash shit, speed recklessly down the highway, and drop a big “fuck you” to all the bullshit.” Go fookin coconuts!
“I don’t think it’s any secret that I love me some good ole fashioned black metal. I like it old and cold, trebly and chaotic, raspy and harsh. When done correctly, not even the above-average, desert temperatures can keep my spine from growing cold or force me to remove my Darkthrone hoodie.” Leave it to Satan to keep spines frosty and cold.
“When further listening to Skym and reading everything the good folks at Hammerheart sent our way about Kjeld, I was surprised. Not in the “huh, neat” way, but in Keanu Reeves’ infamous “whoa” way.” We didn’t see this one coming.
“Usurping the Throne of Disease gave me two things: one, a delightfully rotten piece of blackened death-crust (which, typing it out now, actually sounds more like a spicy appetizer than a genre); and two, a reason to move past my failed no-jerking-off New Year’s resolution and slave away at a review that will, inevitably, be given the ‘Quilted Northern’ treatment by my Great Overlord.” I like my crust blackened and radioactive with a side order of cold saw.
“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.
“Up until now, there were three things that came to mind when I thought of Ireland; St. Patty’s Day, Guinness and Primordial. It turns out there is now a fourth: ZOM. Now, if you go to their Facebook page, this Irish threesome claims to exist in the “Anti-Matter Universe.” Goofy sounding? It is. But my Aunt has a summer home there and she just loves it. Regardless of where they reside, ZOM are definitely intent on wreaking havoc in this Anti-Anti-Matter Universe of ours.” That’s all well and good, but if they make me spill my Guinness, shit’s going down in all the universes.
“Ever since I picked up my first copy of Darkthrone’s Transylvanian Hunger, I’ve been in love with old-school black metal (even though it wasn’t “old school” back then). I’m not sure if it’s the satanic themes, the atmospheric tapestry of nonstop trebly guitars, the vicious/desperate vox, or my craving for the frozen, isolated terrain that personifies the genre so well (“cold” isn’t a word used in the southwestern United States).” It’s old, but is it still bold?
“Black metal has become so diverse that the tag has practically lost all meaning. What does it refer to these days? The post-black style first whisked from Cascadia in 2007 with Wolves in the Throne Room’s seminal Two Hunters? Or the stomach-churning dissonance of Deathspell Omega? Or maybe legacy acts like Mayhem, still trudging on and attempting to rekindle the fires that burned so fiercely in the early 90s?” Black metal has been seriously wounded, but the fire still burns.
“Pestilential Shadows comes from the land down under, where the women glow and men plunder. Listen closely, and you’ll hear their black metal thunder. Listen even closer, and you’ll run for cover. Gimmicky introduction aside, the men in Pestilential Shadows have been at work making some seriously bleak music since 2003, and their fifth album, Ephemeral, shows no signs of deviating from this path.” Anyone want a Vegemite sandwich?
