Voice recorder, recovered by Skullcrusher Mountain Excursion and Gallivanting Monitoring and Assistance, 2019.01.11, 05:21, along with one (1) John Doe, rotting, and one (1) Branzino, also rotting, wrapped in parchment paper and twine. Note affixed: “Sabbatical’s going great, see you soon!”
Timestamp: 1/10/19, 10:37 – Wvrm Tell-All and Get Rich notes, Day 738. I joked for the Madam to wish me luck on my blind pick as I swiped out of the promo bin. A thumb popped up behind the twenty-thousand leagues of hard drives and promo sheets tentacling from desk to floor to door. That was the first of her I’d seen in months, I just realized. Anyway, a little brown-nosing can’t hurt. I don’t miss the Coal- oh shit. [Metal striking metal, and yelling in the background – “…moldy bananas?”] Who’s that? [Voice in background shouting, the word “cheese” over and over”] Sorry, um, Prisoner 24601. [Muffled, “…that cheese?”] No, it’s… Wristmeetrazor. No spaces? Ew. You want it? …Me neither.
14:12 – Do the editors a favor, I thought. Well, I’m an editor and I haven’t done myself any favors. You know, Grymm hissed at me when I put Misery Never Forgets on in the warehouse. The editors’ lounge? Steel simply looked at me and said “I never forget either.” Even Mark Fucking Z chucked a camo-print stapler at me, and he listens to some baaaad shit. “You call that hardcore? Try scene bullshit with two ounces of Converge behind it!” [Audible sigh] …He’s not wrong. The opener, “Loathsome,” that sounds good… ish. At least, as far as a minute-forty of ho-hum screamocore will go, but then it devolves into momentum-stunting chug tropes. Even the track names inspire finger guns. “Insecurity Checkpoint?” “XOXO (Love Letter from a Loaded Gun)?” Who is this, Bring Me the Horizon? “Expiry Date: 12 Hours?” That’s not a date, that’s a time. Speaking of expiry dates… [sniffing] I think something died.
15:10 – [Indiscriminate moaning and “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” by The Tokens. Both continue for several hours.]
21:48 – [Wind in background] Kill me. Actually, I might already be dead. Awful story short, Kronos made steamed ham sourced from Grier‘s slaughterhouse. In the aftermath, I missed the last lift off Skullcrusher Mountain. So it’s Wristmeetrazor and I on a buddy cop movie down the slopes. Maybe we’ll learn to love each other in the end.
22:30 – To quote “In Line for Halos,” “I hate you… I hate us both.” The feeling’s mutual, bub. Who even likes oranges that much? In theory, the music wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve heard, but using grindcore’s song lengths to cover a quarter of the territory at one-twentieth the ferocity might be. Every song seems like it could have legs if given some runway, but the directions stick for seconds, not minutes, and they’re all so shallow. Did they even mean to send this to us? I have a hard time picturing their target demo, but AMG’s definitely not it. Woof, these cleans. “Nothing lasts forever.” Hopefully, that includes this album.
23:59 – I’m losing time. Going into “Come on In, The Water’s Pink,” the music drops out and poof, I’m face down in the snow as “Goodbye Sweet Betty” ends. Let’s see here… By Jørn. These waveforms, they’re flat. A quarter of the entire album is… ambient and spoken word? Hold me closer tiny dancer, that can’t be right. Let me scroll back waitnonotplay [A soft thump, five minutes of silence] Dammit. Those tracks are weapons-grade. It’s not that they’re boring. They’re definitely boring. It’s just… Every time I think about a band adding multiple non-music tracks to a twenty-minute album, my mind gets that queasy, wobbling feeling, like when you think about your consciousness in a meta sense and your brain rejects the complexity by activating your gag refl- [Unpleasantries.] It wasn’t the food.
1/11/19, 01:58 – I’ve battled my way through this record countless times now, every twenty minutes my pain beginning anew. The energy is the only thing I can latch onto anymore. My interest in their D-tier offerings faded hours ago. Misery Never Fades is so scattershot and underdeveloped that each idea seems isolated from every other. Like me. Out here. Leave it to me to Happy Metal Guy myself. Shit. Shit. What if he’s still out here? Hasn’t Team Canada tracked him down yet? We certainly aren’t not paying them for exposure to the dad prog and philosophy crowds. [Faint music, identified as “Strike the Iron” by White Wizzard] What was that? Isn’t that… No. I’m not to speak of them. It’s probably just Muppet, looking for lost black metal musicians or something. [Muffled voice growing into a roar, “Raise your sword and point it to the SKKKYYYYYY!”]