“December falls upon us, each day the sump pumping less, but to my surprise, out flumped Extirpated Mortal Process, a glut of death metal excess. Alas, spit-roasted and splattered, tired and tattered, I no longer urge for any of this expired mess. You see, I tried Stabbing on a plane and Stabbing in a car. I tried Stabbing in my office and Stabbing while afar.” Better to shiv than receive.
“Suspiciously, only one other goregrind review exists on AMG, and it’s kind of shitty. If you follow the genre, you know that acts like UwU may squirt out 3 or more opuses in a year. As an organization, we are very much behind on showcasing this putrid genre of goregrind, so to rectify this oversight, I thrust myself upon GUINEAPIG’s latest bucket o’ blasts, Parasite.” Small but nasty.
“Good brutal death albums ruin your day. You swing your fists and frown, letting the caveman slams and moist leads saturate your eardrums in a coat of red mist as the mosh-pit hysteria results in a few too many lost brain cells. Astral Tomb does just that, featuring all the hallmarks of a good slam/goregrind/brutal death album: opener “Transcendental Visions” fitting this to a tee, the thirteen-minute opener reeks of Carcass-meets-Devourment-meets-Blood Incantation gore in its brutal emphasis on excess.” Star tombs, raw wounds.
“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.
