Graphite-Grind: Disintegration - "Carbon Shadow" Cassette Tape Review

    Disintegration are a death-grind band from deep in the heart of GWAR country, Richmond, Virginia, that play a type of grindcore that filters thrash and black metal through a crusty grindcore filter. They weaponize aggressive riffing and heavy blasting in the form of their 2022 full-length, Carbon Shadow. 

    Since the debut of their demo in 2016, Disintegration have been fine-tuning and polishing their said metaphorical munitions, resulting in a very Assück sounding style of metallic grindcore. Although, Disintegration might have a little more sugar in their licks compared to Assück, while also avoiding that telltale stink of grunge rock that stained many 90's metal bands back during that era. This latest incarnation of Disintegration that we are given here on Carbon Shadow also brings to mind certain similar Texas gulf-coast-insect-combatant-based-grind bands. 

    Disintegration vocalist, Ryan Zell—who might be better known as the guitarist of such legendary bands as Sacridose and Cellgraft, if I'm not mistaken—is laying down a solid front of mostly monotone, guttural cookie monster growls that undulates with an undertone of that cinder block on concrete kind of cadence. Vocally, he's somewhere amongst a light mince/gore dialect and throaty crust punk snorts; save for that one pig squeal in the twenty-three second song, "Melting Rot." The lyrical themes of war, famine and death also embody those crust punk platitudes of pestilence and pessimism.  

    I feel like a lot of Disintegration's charm is the talented uniqueness of the guitar work. Guitarist, Drew Brooks is serving up some rapid fire catch-and-release palm muted thrash riffs that carry the bulk of the songs and really steer them from one metal subsect to the next. He's the deciding factor on the subtle shifting from genre to genre that is happening throughout the tracklist. "Justified Retaliation" is giving major thrash metal vibes with the palm muting and double kick drum intro before rounding out the second half with some drilled-in black metal tremolo riffing. Meanwhile the brief intro to "Black Death Trebuchet" presents itself with more of an old school death metal influence. There are so many variation and delicacies translated through rhythmic palm muting. It would be easy to pigeonhole these influences as either death metal, thrash, crust or just good 'ole-fashioned grindcore. However, all would be more than apt.

    Brooks also pulls double duty as bass player on Carbon Shadow, out of what is presumably mere necessity. Now, there's not a lot of light to shine on the bass guitar within this album. It's very much there as a warm booming background tone and is sort of a shadow in and of itself. Yet, it's likely exactly where it should be in the mix. With a majority of the sound being given to the guitar, possessing a springy slinkiness tone of its own, the brightened growl of a bass isn't as necessary.

    Disintegration's drummer, Leland Hoth—previously of Occultist fame—sets pace with a cavalcade of intense drumming that is as chaotic as it is pummeling. Much like the guitar, Hoth is dodging in and out of the metal genre like a Fun Dip Lik-a-Stick. He constantly runs the gamut from the double bass pedal gallops of "Robust Nuclear Earth Penetrator" to the careening, overly fast mid-paced thrash-punk hammering of "Blood Eagle" before leaning into the boiling blast beats of "Perfect Life-form." The breakneck pace is very reminiscent of both Vermin Womb and Insect Warfare's styles of high-speed percussion. 

    Unfortunately, despite my veneration towards the band, Carbon Shadow is not without its more strident criticisms. Carbon Shadow is what the band has been building towards the past six or so years. The guitar and drums have evolved exponentially from their initial demo, not to mention their songwriting and production value as well. 

    Yet, Carbon Shadow seems to have some complication in the mix. Periodically, I get the sense that the instruments of the band sound like they are playing almost independently from one another; occasionally falling in-and-out of pocket—or at least sound like they are on the verge of it. And I understand the harshness of this critique and I'm willing to concede that I might be mistaken and this may not even be the case. Especially considering that there is no sign of this in the band's demo or on their 2017 EP, Cruel Slaughter. It may possibly be an in-studio issue. If this is even the case—allegedly. 

    Another issue with the mix is the de-emphasizing of the snare drum, however so slight. Again, compared to the previous releases, this just happens to be the most suppressed volume of snare—allegedly. It should be noted that the band's entire discography is self-produced and self-recorded. 

    Minor gripes notwithstanding, Disintegration's Carbon Shadow is an aggressively dark and mean version of death-grind that incorporates almost all aspects of all associated subgenres. They fill the gap from Apocalyptic Noise Syndicate all the way to Iskra, if not just straight up Assück zealotry. I know I've named dropped more than a few bands already and I would name drop even more if I was more familiar with the metal community. So you can see the wide appeal for listeners either looking for a variety of inspiration or listeners merely interested in heavy grinding. 

    The full-length itself is decently polished and crisp and finds the band at top performance. Hoth and Brooks' skill behind the kit and on the guitar are the band's crown jewels and are shepherded through with Zell's coarse vocal command. Any of these are well worth the price of admission, but the headbanging catchiness and thick crunch of the guitar sends Carbon Shadow over the top. 

FFO: Assück, Insect Warfare, Apocalyptic Noise Syndicate

Listen to the album:

https://disintegrationgrindcore.bandcamp.com/album/carbon-shadow

Split Level Housing: Dope Needle/Chromatic Bastards Split Cassette Review

    Straight out of the fields and rolling hills of Carroll County, Maryland lies the dirty and uncapped powerviolence paraphernalia that is Dope Needle—a low-fi, high blasting, classic sounding powerviolence that mainlines an IV of PV directly into your ear holes. The band's side of this split consists of three and a half minutes of noisy Spazz worship nestled in-between chill hip-hop sampled clips from artist such as Necro, DKKAY, and HEEZ140. A very common treatment for modern powerviolence bands and despite the numerous powerviolence clichés, Dope Needle are pushing some primo blast. 

    Vocally, Dope Needle check all the boxes—manic phlegm tinged screeches flanked by those telltale inhaled caveman bawls that are so indicative of the genre, fired off at a breathless pace. They have a nice intensity to them and are frankly better than they have to be. 

    And speaking of intensity, the drumming is a constant barrage of blast beats, D-beats and a hop-skip-and-jump style of breakdown trudges. It's subtle, yet fully capable. The quick on/off transition between simplistic slow crashes and blast beats is exact. Fortunately, the band's preferred tempo is that of the high speed. I always appreciate powerviolence bands that prioritize the speed over the slow trudges.

    Carrying the same tempo structure as the drums is the guitar. The downtuned hardcore punk riffs are careening during the faster runs and take on more of a darker, metallic tone during the slower breaks. As a listener, you might take the presence of a guitar as a given, yet this won't necessarily be the case throughout this release.

    Probably the harshest critique I can give Dope Needle's side of the split is the production. The sound quality is unquestionably quiet and inconsistent. It's almost like the album was recorded off of a TV set on to a boom box tape deck or a band practice recorded onto a Home Alone 2 Tiger Talkboy (assuming that I'm not the only one who did that.) Not only that, it sounds like there a three different production levels within their three and a half minutes. All of which vary in volume and sound. The audio samples are louder than he actual songs. It's a very curious mix that within the realm of this noisy and rambunctious split isn't too abnormal, but I feel the band might be selling themselves a tad short. Given their other releases, I believe that this is probably very much intentional. Maybe, maybe not.

    Things did clean up markedly on the band's most recent release, a split cassette with VIBExCHECK in 2021. But even still, there is a noticeable production shift midway through their side of the tape. It's almost like there's a substantial time gap between studio recorded tracks or there is an inclusion of live tracks. I feel like a more uniformed and even keeled production mix could have put Dope Needle in to a higher bracket of contemporary powerviolence bands. There's no reason that their trap beat spotted brand of intravenous-violence couldn't have been given the 625 Thrashcore/To Live A Lie Records treatment. Many other bands have done well at straddling the bridge between stripped-down noisy powerviolence and successful popularity. 

 

    Chromatic Bastards... How to explain Chromatic Bastards? Their almost three minutes of harsh noise-grind yowling is definitely a memorable experience. I'm not up to speed on the grading system of noise and noise-core, but this is probably some of the more identifiable as belonging in the powerviolence and grind realm of classification. The band's three tracks consist primarily of distorted audio samples and feedback from massive microphone clipping. Don't mistake it as some highbrow Merzbow collaboration where there's noise breaks in-between standard powerviolence tracks. No, this is more closely akin to Insect Warfare's self-titled album of drums and vocals over static noise. Chromatic Bastards' side is a powerviolence version of that, yet digitally fried—blown out, overexposed and seared in a static fire. 

    

    Now, when I say "drums," I don't mean drums presented in the traditional sense. You can't hear the actual physical impact of the drum heads so much as the staticky peaking of the sound of blast beats, if that makes any sense. The rising and falling of binary strobing electrical crashing that is in the place of the snare and cymbals. It's harsh and hairy, but gets the job done. Visualize a snare full of metal washers run through a ProCo pedal and EQ'd to shit in Pro Tools. 

    Likewise, the vocals are equally hot, equally marred. The feedback from the vocals is what is seemingly constituting as the "music" on the tracks. They are screaming rings that bleat out from time to time amongst the vocals and fuzzed out drums. But the vocals themselves are what I feel will probably be the main talking points of the band. 

    With no disrespect intended, when I first heard Chromatic Bastards' vocals I immediately thought of the Disney character Goofy when he falls off a cliff or crashes through a floor. The band's vocals are not your typical screams or deep yells, but wild whoops. Whether there are lyrics involved or not is the least of my concerns. The whooping yelps are an acquired taste that I'm not totally mad at. They can go either of two ways for the band—listeners will either find it laughable or a little disturbing. Much like when you hear actual screams of panic somewhere out in a public space; just out of sight and with a chill that silences the crowd. The vocals are definitely primal and trill. Somewhere between Goofy and Leatherface. Wait, I narrowed it down! They sound exactly like the tortured screams from Judge Doom in the movie, Who Framed Roger Rabbit when he was slowly being steamrolled flat.

    According to the band themselves, these tracks were improvised songs recorded during microphone tests without their guitarist during a studio session for a separate split release with another band. This makes a lot of sense considering future Chromatic Bastards releases are just as corroded, yet have more audible drums, obvious guitar and vocals more in keeping with what you'd imagine from a noisy powerviolence band. Meaning the band may have abandon their more staunch leanings into the avant-garde of noise. But it looks like they got two releases out of this impromptu session, this and the EP, The Occult Roots of Surrealism. It appears that the original intended split was scrapped. 

    This split, I believe, came out in a cassette tape physical format in what looks like 2023 on Autumn Sounds—a experimental label out of Pittsburgh. Yet, the actual session recordings go back to 2019. Information on many particular details of the release here are a tad spotty, especially on Dope Needle's side. The interweaving of the sampled audio and the band's tracks gives the feeling that their side of the tape is just one cohesive song. If you find any of Dope Needle's music digitally, that's exactly how it will come. I also found different cover art on each website I visited, so there's a lot that I can't corroborate with this release. Although, in true underground punk and powerviolence fashion, these are all part of the charm.

    Each side of this split gives the listener opposing extremes of the powerviolence experimental scale—the more traditional and the more primeval. This split is a blown out, lo-fi, mixed down, fuck you to the overly polished records of the genre. It's also a great peek into what's happening in the avant-garde scene. It's for those who like it raw and unpalatable—and kind of weird. 

FFO: Holy Grinder, Internal, Spazz, Sissy Spacek, Suffering Brings Wisdom

Listen to the album:

https://autumnsounds.bandcamp.com/album/split-4

U-G-L-Y You Ain't Got No Alibi: Real Life Ugly - "Manifestaci​ó​n" Demo CD EP Review

    What's more exciting and appealing than professional wrestling? From Mexico's lucha libre to Canada's Hart Foundation, the cowbell kickoff of clean kayfabe competitive combat is for some the height of entertainment. It's a modern amalgam of clashing gladiators in a crowded coliseum and a Greek tragedy holding spectacle in an encircled amphitheater, brought to life in your home's living room like an in-ring telenovela. The conflict between larger than life baby-faces and sinister heels embodies the timeless morality tales of good versus evil via the most electrifying television programming in sports entertainment. Yet professional wrestling is not real. 

    During a three-day period between the days of June 22 and June 24 of 2007 the former Heavyweight title holder of both the World Wrestling Federation as well as World Championship Wrestling, Chris "The Canadian Crippler" Benoit, murdered his wife and seven-year-old son before taking his own life by means of a lat pull-down machine. After a twenty-two year career, it's theorized that chronic head trauma induced brain damage led to the murder-suicide. That was real. 

    

    Real life isn't the shiny family-friendly choreographed superstar mill that companies like the WWE and CMLL would have you believe. It's an ugly billion dollar marketing machine that chews up muscle and spits it out. 

    Wrestler Owen Hart fell to his death during a botched stunt on a live televised pay-per-view event in 1999. Darren "Droz" Drozdov suffered a neck injury in a 1999 match which left him as a quadriplegic. In 2019 skeleton clad luchador, Jesús Alfonso Huerta Escoboza, better known to the world as La Parka, was paralyzed and later died after an aerial maneuver went bad. In 2015 Mexican wrestler, Perro Aguayo Jr. died in the ring after what would become a fatal trick move from current WWE Superstar, Rey Mysterio Jr. 

    Real life is ugly. Real life is criminal negligence and greed. Real life is murder, drug addiction, disease and indifference. Real life is two tears in a bucket.

    TV isn't real. Shit, reality TV isn't even real. The twenty-four-hour news cycle is questionable at best. Social media is fake. TikTok, well fuck TikTok. The filtered, Photoshopped race to be famous for nothing and the selling of sex via dating apps are based on deception and manipulation. The whole culture behind swiping right, whether for love or lust, is a selective delusion that the populace buys into. The false sense of anonymity and control is not real life. Essentially, a life based on superficialities will ultimately lead to something or someone—ugly.

    Straddling this dark dualism of a Tinder date gone wrong and the existential terror of life is Dallas' newest grindcore band, Real Life Ugly. A band whose founding members consist of some of the DFW grind scene's heaviest hitters and all around good people, Irving Lopez and Alejandro Ramirez. Both of whom are current members of the rising Dallas grind-gore super group Trucido. Before that Lopez's tenure in the dissonant/technical death-grind group, Cognizant might ring a bell, as well as Ramirez's past in the cult hardcore/procedural-violence band, Dick Wolf and crusty grindcore THC-oholics, BOZO. With the addition of newcomers Randall Day and Brad Langton, Real Life Ugly are establishing themselves as more than just a side project with their debut demo release Manifestaci​ó​n. 

    Real Life Ugly's Manifestaci​ó​n is a love letter to Texas grindcore, most notably the gulf coast sounds of grind royalty like Insect Warfare. There's an emphasis on heavy repetitive riffing and fast blasting. Manifestaci​ó​n is a four song demo that doesn't need to meddle in blending genres and doesn't waste time with mood or atmosphere. Even the vocals are moderately sparse. No, this new EP is just straight snarling, driving, no frills Texas grindcore.

    Irving Lopez's guitarwork is front and center on this demo. It sounds like he's performing his version of knuckle-dragger heavy metal riffs; purposely replacing his usual technical and dissonant guitar whirlings with crushing palm mutes and sharp heavy marching chugs. Nevertheless, his personal style of hiccup riffs and circular fret smears still make their brief appearances. I think I even heard some pinch harmonics in there as well. Regardless, the guitarwork that he's doing with Real Life Ugly is a direct contrast to his work in Cognizant. There is more of a linear process here compared to his usual more angular playing. Lopez is a casual guitar savant that seemingly can play anything in any style. 

    I don't know about you, but during live shows I'm staring a hole through the drummer of every band on the bill and watching technique and style. And when I tell you that other than Bryan Fajardo, Alejandro Ramirez might be the most effortlessly smooth and fluent drummer in the North Texas grind scene. Casual fans who might only know Ramirez as the vocalist for Trucido may not know him as a drummer, but he's one of those guys who is just good at everything. It's stupid. On Manifestaci​ó​n he is oscillating from mid-tempo trots that accentuate the chugging riffs to faster .50 caliber machinegun blast beats woven together with satisfyingly tight snare rolls. I genuinely believe his efficiency and solidity behind the kit is clear and present on this release. 

    Now, from what I can hear, Real Life Ugly could easily be recorded as a two-piece on this release—which was an early incarnation of the band, if I'm not mistaken. But I'm not hearing a defined bass in the mix and I'm not a hundred percent sure of who or how many are on vocals. Assuming the CD's liner notes listing Randall Day and Brad Langton as vocalists are correct, their vocals on Manifestaci​ó​n are a clamoring of some wild, caveman mid-ranged shrieking highs and some raspy low gutturals that are not too far off from Phobia's Shane Mclachlan. You can definitely hear the overlap in the mainly monosyllabic grunts that, again, are very reminiscent of Houston's Insect Warfare. The CD version of the demo EP comes with a fifth bonus track that is a different version of the previous track, "Just Die Already" only with a different vocal performance and the addition of one Arnold Santos. 

    Real Life Ugly's aesthetic is a huge part of the band's charm. They have a certain style of sarcasm and irony towards life, weeb culture, social media, the white trash metal community and Hulk Hogan Newspeak. It's a fun lampooning of the problematic and vapid qualities of the human condition and society as a whole, but also a celebration of the more laudable aspects of today's world. The sense of humor in this niche local scene is very specific. Real Life Ugly could very well be forging their own subgenre of grindcore—like a "cringe-core" or maybe "ironi-core." And despite all of this, the band's lyrical message promotes a progressiveness and shines a light on societal problems such as drug abuse and poverty. 

    A lot of the band's merch and imagery is based on underground wrestling and lucha libre. The EP itself pays homage the Latino cultural influence both within the band as well as in the Dallas/Fort Worth areas of Texas. I'd go as far to say it's an intrinsic part of the scene here. 

    Hopefully, Manifestaci​ó​n is the first of many releases from Real Life Ugly to come. I personally would like to see this band do more and not die on the back pages of Bandcamp, as many grindcore demos are wont to do. Yet as this demo is only a few months old, I guess we shouldn't necessarily be in a rush. But Real Life Ugly is a band well worth swiping right on, especially if you have a fetish for traditional flavored Texas grindcore. HYB!

FFO: Trucido, Insect Warfare, Phobia, PLF

Listen to the album:

https://reallifeugly.bandcamp.com/album/manifestaci-n-demo-2023

Grindfernö - "Human Stupidity" CD Review & Exclusive New Album Stream From EveryDayHate Records

    Full disclosure time: I don't know a single thing about Grindfernö. I have never heard of them before. I don't know who is in the band, where they are from or when they were formed. Occasionally, when reviewing releases it happens that I'm not privy to any of that pertinent information. Even my cursory Google searches of Grindfernö all came up fruitless. Usually when doing these reviews I listen to the release for weeks in addition to the band's entire available back catalog. I don't even know if Grindfernö has a catalog, frankly. Although, back when I would listen to music casually and not for reviews, I almost preferred that anonymity. There is a magic in the facelessness of a band in which you only having a craggy logo and enumerated tracklisting to usher you through their phonic maelstrom. 

    All I have currently are a name and a link to a private Bandcamp page of the band's upcoming release, Human Stupidity, where I was only allowed to listen to the album a couple of times through before it expired and I had to start writing a review of it. Like I said before, I don't know much about this record other than it exceeded my expectations upon first listening and hit me like a grindcore gut punch. 

    Right out of the gate, Grindfernö establishes a feral and berserker style of grindcore/crust punk fusion that grabs you and doesn't let go. It's a raw, punk as fuck, old school sounding melee of cymbal catches, blast beats, heavy bass, churning guitar and rabid vocals. Each song is a wound up one-two, one-two-three-go slingshot of foam-mouthed raving, tooth gnashing, throat ripping, punk sneering, blast beat laden hostility. 

    Grindfernö host a battery of vocals that spit and tear over each other, spouting anti-fascist rhetoric and general western world distain. The vocals, for the most part, are a tandem affray of gargled guttural lows and banshee like highs that ascend into the veil of white noise. The lows toggle between different shades of themselves, whereas the piercing highs soar as manic wraiths of anguish that peal over them. 

    The guitarwork on Human Stupidity is distinct and consistent. The chainsaw spun punk riffs are fast and repetitive, but never in a tedious and monotonous way. The riffs are tight loops of The Varukers-esque chords spiraled out into fractals of grindcore frenzy. There is definitely a formula to the band's composition style, but Human Stupidity is never stymied by redundancy. And with songs existing within mere seconds, how could they be? 

    Just as prevalent, just as distorted and just as audible is the band's engine block of a bass. Often interchangeable with the guitar in those revved up song intros, the bass guitar is a persistent attribute that is carried well in the mix and is a homogeneous addition to the buzz saw guitar. It is an ever-present motor of rumbling distortion and combustion.

    The terms "persistent" and "incessant" can apply to practically any aspect or cog in the Grindfernö grind machine, but the drums are the embodiment of that concept. They blur the lines between D-beats and blast beats as they stay lively and inexhaustible. They remind me a lot of the thoughts I had on Vermin Womb's perpetual motion machine—Retaliation—back in my best of 2022 compilation. Although, maybe Grindfernö are not as fast and animalistic as Vermin Womb, they are just as chaotic in their own right. The drums never really slow down. In my limited listening of the album I never recalled hearing a breakdown or a sludgy throwaway track. Just signature cymbal catches, fast D-beat hoofings and noisy blast beats. 

    Grindfernö, in certain constructs, are a mystery to me and I cannot offer any informative rigmarole on their native geographical imports and exports or longwinded critiques of their past discography. In fact, I have good reason to suspect that Human Stupidity might very well be a discography CD. There are some forty tracks on this release. Yes, forty tracks—count them! Either this is a compendium of the band's total releases or they are prolific song writers and really go all out for an album. Other things that tipped me off were the subtle variances in production and songwriting—which doesn't vary much, mind you. But the first set of tracks do play as a little more polished production wise and are tighter overall. Additionally, the vocals seem more diverse in the front and more polarized towards the end. There is also a fun assortment of cover songs embedded within the tracklisting. Songs by bands such as: Agathocles, Napalm Death, Sore Throat and Carcass Grinder to name a few. I guess we shall find out if I'm correct or not together when this release goes public.

    Imagine all your favorite Japanese D-beat crust bands crammed into a blender or meat grinder or whatever grindcore food prep appliance cliché you can think of, speed it all up into a noisy and tumultuous grindcore/punk assault; add to it some brash, if not hauntingly fervent vocals and you will get Grindfernö. They are a band that I think has a lot of cross-over appeal and could fall under the umbrella of several grindcore subgenres. They bridge the gap of crust punk and grind as well as old school and modernity. There is as much of a Discharge influence as there is a Repulsion one. 

    With that, I am very happy to once again partner with my good friends over at EveryDayHate Records and help premiere Human Stupidity, as well as to hopefully give Grindfernö a worthy acknowledgment and perhaps a little more online presence, because God knows I couldn't find shit. Which is truly tragic. I, like all of you, look forward to learning more about Grindfernö through this, their latest(?) only(?) complete(?) release. 

    Available for download and on physical media through Polish grindcore super-spreaders, EveryDayHate Records, as well as streaming exclusively in full here on Return to the House of Grindcore! Thank you as always to EveryDayHate for continuing to throw me bones and allowing me to collaborate with forces much bigger than myself. To everyone else, on behalf of the label and this old house, please enjoy Grindfernö's Human Stupidity. 

FFO: Roskopp, Internal Rot, Asterisk*, Holy Grinder, Herida Profunda

Split Level Housing: Blue Holocaust/Morgue Breath "After The Fall Of Man/Hongo Atroz: Double Mushroom Attack" Split 7 Inch Review

     The After The Fall Of Man/Hongo Atroz: Double Mushroom Attack is a lengthily named international split between two blast heavy grind-gore bands from either side of the Atlantic—France's Blue Holocaust and California's Morgue Breath. I was a little apprehensive about this release as I am not the biggest fan of certain ardent strains of goregrind and I have never even heard of Blue Holocaust prior to the submission of this release for review. So it looks like we're going to discover this doomsday duo together.

        Blue Holocaust is a long running goregrind band formed in 2001 from Toulouse, France. Now, Blue Holocaust is a new band for me and apparently the band is a one-man solo project helmed by a gentleman named Pierre de Palmas. Pierre has a long list of accredited accomplishments that include being the founder and editor of the grindcore/goregrind webzine, Braindead Zine. A virtual publication where he has posted grindcore and goregrind music news, band interviews and album reviews. The zine seems to mostly be relegated to social media and YouTube these days as opposed to being at an official website address, or at least I couldn't find one anyways. As a founder and editor of a review blog, myself, I sympathize with the struggle of finding the time to make something like that work and sustain. He is also a member of fellow Toulouse gore peddlers, Vomi Noir, as well as being an artist that has produced work for several gore centric bands in the genre including Haggus and Sick Sinus Syndrome, among others. 

    Stylistically, I would put Blue Holocaust above most of your average goregrind bands. I find that most goregrind bands I hear either borrow heavily from the more extreme forms of death metal or from the more boring iterations of mincecore. Either of which can focus extensively on guitar grandstanding or mind-numbing alternating bass and snare, two-step drum beats. Instead, Blue Holocaust tend to keep things fast paced with excessive blast beats, D-beats and gnashing cymbal catches. The band is heavy on the grind and less so on the stereotypical gore sound. If it wasn't for the standard overly deep goregrind gurgled vocals and the obvious giallo-horror aesthetic I would have thought that this was a purely grindcore record. But thankfully Blue Holocaust have chosen to be it's own unique mixture of these elements to bring a refreshing brand of "grind-gore." 

    

    The entirety of Blue Holocaust's side of this split is a concept album of sorts. In addition to the Armageddon-esque visuals of both sides of the split, After The Fall Of Man is lyrically themed with the tales of apocalyptic destruction—such as the mass extinction events brought on by nuclear war, the agonizing and gruesome effects of radioactive fallout and even a ground zero detailing of a zombie based outbreak. Not only are the lyrics on theme, but each track is proceeded and occasionally succeeded by old post-apocalyptical B-movie sound bites that give you more of that retro sci-fi/horror Blue Holocaust brand of schlock infused blasting. It almost reminds me of some kind of grindhouse/grindcore/Mad Max version of Conflict's The Ungovernable Force. I love that the nuclear war shtick is called out immediately in the first sound clip of the first song. 

    Tonally, After The Fall Of Man is some of the best production the band has had to date—even when compared to the just recent 2021 release, Nilbog Attack split with Houkago Grind Time, and especially when compared to the band's 2004 debut full-length, Twitch Of The Death Nerve. The ladder being an earlier blown out and lo-fi variation of the band. After The Fall Of Man is a more refined and traditional grindcore sounding release compared to most of the band's past installations. 

    For whatever reason, the Blue Holocaust on this release reminds me of Code 13, albeit a radiation riddled, gore diseased and metastatic grindcore mutant version of the band. But there is something about the vacuum cleaner guitar distortion and the throw away solos that remind me of that charmed Doomed Society luster. Obviously, Blue Holocaust is a totally different beast—unabating blasts and frantic chord smears taking the place of the gang vocals and catchy hooks of the aforementioned Havoc Records hardcore. I should probably stop name-dropping Code 13 so often. I don't know, maybe this is just the radiation sickness talking.

    California's Morgue Breath are the perfect pairing for a split with Blue Holocaust. While maybe not being as experienced as their veteran split-mate, the Los Angeles natives have skyrocketed in popularity since the band's formation in 2019—and very much akin to Blue Holocaust—began as the one-man project of founder, Ivo, before adding members from other grind darlings like Sulfuric Cautery and Shitbrains to form a full lineup. 

    Very much from the start, the band established a solid concoction of death-grind and goregrind. Even if the first release, Postrarse Frente La Flema, may have been just one man alone, Morgue Breath has always brought the blasts and some of the chunkiest, catchiest riffs in this niche genre. The band's first release as an ensemble was 2022's full-length, Expectoraciones Exequiales Desde Las Profundidades Fantamiasm​á​ticas and right away the addition of Sulfuric Cautery drummer, Isaac Horne's contributions can be heard in the album's hyper blasting and snare pummeling. Production does take a mild dip on the sophomore release, but the band makes up for it on this latest 2022 release, Hongo Atroz—their split with Blue Holocaust. This record is easily the band's most polished, although I don't think the snare was done full justice in the mix.

    Not running short of similarities of their flipside mate in human anatomical amusement, Morgue Breath also seem to favor the grindcore sound—or death-grind in Morgue Breath's case—ahead of the goregrind. Their guitar work emphasizes the death-grind with its dark and sharp tremolo riffs and layered distortion. Pair that with the chronic cymbal catches and you get some explosive compositions. 

    The one obvious attribute running borderline between the two subgenres is the mostly monotone burly and bubbly guttural growls that bark out what I assume are an all Spanish lyrical diatribe. I'm not privy to the lyrics, but I think it should be obvious by now that all the album titles in the band's discography and the song names are all en español. And for those listeners that don't speak Spanish, I can assure you they are all about a collection of some sort of internal organs leaking some sort of bodily fluids or dealing with something of a necrotic nature. Which is a nice change of pace for an American based band as well as a good way to avoid running the risk of an overly cliché track listing. 

    Although, I do concede that maybe not all the songs are in Spanish. Track four, "Gas Del Ass"—while yes, technically it is in a form of Spanish—is a cover of Polish goregrinders, Dead Infection's "Gas From Ass." I'm clueless to whether or not the lyrics were translated or not. Morgue Breath has made a tradition out of recording at least one cover song for each release. Previous releases saw covers from bands like Icons Of Filth and Brazil's Lymphatic Phlegm. Obviously, there is an eclectic well of inspirations for the band to draw from. 

 

    At the end of the day, or at the end of days in the case of this split, the aptly dubbed Double Mushroom Attack split is an equal yoked effort by two bands that are similar in style and execution. Both Blue Holocaust and Morgue Breath bring a slightly diluted and palatable version of goregrind that might prioritize the grind, but still keeps things gross. I think this record is a great launching off point for the casual grindcore listener to maybe delve a little deeper into the underbelly of the genre, while at the same time still pleasing the goregrind purists and traditionalist. Goregrind can be an acquired taste and this split is a great sounding entryway. 

    Blue Holocaust and Morgue Breath also serve as an American and French collaboration that stands as proof that music is truly a unifying and international language. It also is a testament to the legacy of the old school goregrind and its links to the new school—at least if you are of an age where you can admit that millennium era music is old school now. In either case, this split pays just as much homage to the truly old school goregrind of the 80's and 90's as well. 

    After The Fall Of Man and Hongo Atroz are each high ticks on the old Geiger counter—sickeningly lethal and virulently cancerous. This split acts as a brutally depressing reminder that a painful and irradiated end is extremely fucking nigh. But hey, sometimes deformities can be fun too. 

FFO: Squash Bowels, Intrepid Corpse, Trucido, Sulfuric Cautery

Listen to the album—

Out now on EveryDayHate Records:

https://everydayhate.bandcamp.com/album/blue-holocaust-morgue-breath

Gang Violence: Merked - "Murk-Mob" CD Review

     Well, spring has officially sprung and so has my depression. Annually, the dark despondent days of winter leave me in the deepest of dour dispositions, and now it seems as if spring won't be any sort of a reprieve. Did you now that suicide rates spike in the spring? Suicide numbers double and even triple in the spring when compared to winter. The facts seemingly subverting expectations of the assumed popular opinion that the winter weather and the holidays increase depression. Summer doesn't seem to fair much better than spring, either. Links to summertime depression and suicide are attributed to—of all things—pollen count and FOMO. I once heard summer referred to as the "mean season" due to the increase in homicides and other violent crimes during the season. I guess the theory is that the heat combined with the more people out and about, the chances of potentially violent communal interactions increase. 

    Now, keep that "mean season" mentality in mind. Think about the violence and fermenting rage behind that solstitial colloquialism. Add to it that springtime allergen of melancholia. Now, enter Merked and their 2022 full-length, Murk-Mob. This twenty track album might as well be a physical manifestation of an especially indignant chip on the band's shoulder. 

    Oakland California's Merked can be unofficially viewed as the sister band to previously reviewed hardcore/powerviolence band, Choke. Bassist, Fedge, moonlights as bassist for both Choke and Merked, as well as being co-founder of both band's label, Enemy Of The Goat Records. The man has a pick between his index finger and thumb and the other fingers dipped into a few different pies.

    Merked formed in the tumultuous year of 2020 amongst the spirit breaking pandemic lockdowns and the nationwide Black Lives Matter protests spurred on by the unjustified murders at the hands of law enforcement. Merked was forged in the midst of all that drama and I think the callousness and cynicism is embedded in the band's DNA.

    In 2021 Merked released their debut self-titled full-length cassette that played like a crust punk/hardcore shaped peg shoved into a grindcore/powerviolence shaped hole. Merked's lyrical content read like a series of angry notes that were stuck under the windshield wiper on the car of that neighbor you absolutely hate. The band takes issue with the most tedious aspects of the human condition—mostly about how people should take accountability for their actions, how people themselves get in their own way and pulling yourself up by your boot straps. A very conventional hardcore style of unsympathetic positivity and perseverance. 2022's Murk-Mob finds the band in very similar waters. 

    Murk-Mob is the band's second full-length and is much in line with their previous works. Although, the band's crustier aspects have given way to plodding sludge, they still stay true to that hardcore and grind-violence mixture that was established as the heart of the band. The heavy sludging trudges are probably what you'll notice first about Murk-Mob. Right away the band stomps into the album with some thick and nasty headbanging dirge riffs. Merked is tossing around a lot of weight for a grind-violence band. The mix of the CD is geared towards a low bottom end, which is only accentuated by a high production value. Finally! A band that utilizes the bass guitar and places it prominently in the mix. The bass guitar adds a real depth and texture that is lacking in a lot of records in the genre. It allows for not only a heavy sound, but a tonal thoroughness.

     With the combination of the slurry guitar riffs, the bouncing and coiled basslines, the crashing drums and the band's high exploitation of syncopation, Merked's version of sludge-violence is aggressive and coherent. It reminds me of those work safety videos where a machinist gets an arm yanked off in a spinning motor and the asymmetrically weighted appendage revolves around in systematic thwacks against the hard metal. 

 

    Things aren't all bass filled slogs, though. The band blasts their grindcore sensibilities just as much. Songs like "Landmine In The Mind", "Ongoing" and "Payback", among others, wear their grindcore influences more on their sleeves. Some blast beats might only be a split second flick of the wrist every other measure, but the heavy pounding of the drums are just as effective when blasting as the are setting a rhythmic drone. Most songs tend to drop in and out of the grindcore and sludge genres pretty effortlessly. Thirty percent of the songs are under a minute and some forty-five percent of the songs are under thirty seconds, so the band is never bogging the listener down on one side or another. Song compositions tend to rise and fall and deconstruct themselves marking Merked with an almost trademark off-kilter, loose style of powerviolence. 

    Another of Merked's purely grindcore traits is in the harshness of their vocals. The gravelly, guttural crust roars are repurposed into powerviolence barks and then add to that a smearing of screeching high vocals behind it all for, again, a sound that bears a lot of weight in the band's heavy-askew grind-violence. 

    Lyrically, the band is still not beating around the bush with their messages of distain for people's lack of awareness, both intellectually and morally. While not mincing words, the band is certainly nixing a few of them. The song lyrics on Murk-Mob might only be a single sentence long hate-filled haiku that is straight to the point. And maybe "hate" is not the right word. It's more of a vivid annoyance or lack of patience for the aforementioned human follies. One song that doesn't need lyrics to get the band's views across is track six, "Soothing Sounds Of Slaughtered Rapists"; rather, the liner notes merely state that:"Merked approves and encourages the torturing and killing of all rapists." The song itself is a slow instrumental with audio samples from cinema of agonizing screams and squelches. Most of the album is layered with sound clips ranging from Hellraiser to The Office to just the sound of incessant gunfire. That alone should fairly denote the level of cynicism on Murk-Mob. 

    Murk-Mob is an amazing sounding record that is deceptively heavy and excellently produced for a grind-violence CD. The detuned, bass centric tone pairs real nice with the extreme contrast in tempos. In my opinion there is a big Dystopia vibe that makes me think that Merked might break into "Backstabber" at any moment. Obviously Merked's influences of crust, sludge, hardcore and grind have songs brimming with unpredictability—snarled-faced, head nodding sludge riffs that can give way to blast beat chaos before taking a right turn into bouncing hardcore beatdowns. With almost three-quarters of the album being under a minute, cramming in all those genres is an art. I'd recommend picking up a physical copy of the CD to get the full depth of the band's low production, in addition to a twenty-first track that features a recording of a live set from the band that doesn't sound too bad itself, as far as production goes. Merked hooks it up real nice for powerviolence punks who are now of a certain age where crowd killing is as dumb as it looks, "punk time" shows are truly just inconvenient and scene toxicity is no longer acceptable. 

FFO: Dystopia, Choke, Mindcollapse, Iron Lung, Weekend Nachos 

Listen to the album:

https://getmerked.bandcamp.com/album/murk-mob

Texas Snowstorm: Cocaine Titans - "Chosen Violence" CD Review

"What happened was I began to eventually lose everything because cocaine had such a hold on me. I wouldn't show up to do things I had been hired to do—whether it was film for a video or do an ad for a magazine or something. I'd be out partying with cocaine. Eventually, I began to lose everything."   

-Jay Haizlip

"Wanna buy a kilo?"

-Bob Morales

La Bamba (1987)

     Generally, I'm a firm believer that nothing good comes out of Houston, Texas—with the exception of maybe music. Texas Gulf Coast grindcore and powerviolence is legendary and considered something sacred within the genre. Bands from the likes of Insect Warfare, PLF, 50/50, Mindboil, Türbokrieg, Knuckle Scraper, Machine Gun Romantics, Cryptic Void, Apocalyptic Noise Syndicate—to more recent bands like Active Shooter, Shotcaller and Shitstormtrooper—to even the infamous Geto Boys and hip-hop label/collective, Swishahouse—all hail from The Bayou City. Insect Warfare's presence alone is enough to make Houston hallowed ground in my book. 

    The latest crew of upstarts attempting to lay claim to the throne of the mighty Houston grind dynasty are the Space City newcomers, Cocaine Titans—a four-piece death-grind unit with a habitual idolization of a certain Schedule II narcotic. With as flagrant as Cocaine Titans are in their obsession with la cocaína, you'd think they would be repping the Dallas grind scene. 

    Nevertheless, the band debuted a four song live studio single, The Drip, in 2021 and another two releases in 2022. The first of which was a five song EP cheekily titled, Raw And Uncut. Based on the name and sound quality of the EP, I'm guessing that it was another live studio demo recording that was workshopping songs for their second release—the more traditional studio recorded, eleven track full-length, Chosen Violence.  

    The band's death-grind moniker lies predominantly on the shoulders of guitarist, James Lopez. His metal twanged guitar, with its chirps and squeals, provides a certain aspect of Cocaine Titans' distinct and palpable high grind personality. His zig-zag patterned riffs are as thick and heavy as the Houston humidity. Each song is bookended with sonically piercing feedback that is shrill enough to give you some foil-on-your-fillings style tinnitus. The prominent use of feedback gives the listener that live show feeling and strings the songs along like one consistent set. Lopez's technical prowess is on full display, but not overly showy. He keeps his riffs fast and chock-full of frequent pinch harmonic breaths that punctuate the riffs like a death metal asthmatic. The song "Rocketh In My Socketh" is a good example of that.

    Bassist Michael Feltersnatch is more of the unsung member as his contributions—in true grindcore fashion—are mostly relegated to the background. His fingerstyle picking is the warm bottom behind Lopez's already crushing metal guitar. Never too forward, the bass is mainly heard in the rare instances that the band slows down below ninety beats per minute and the guitar is droning out single chord strikes such as the sludge intro to "Don​'t Thank Me, Thank The Knife" and the hardcore stomping breakdown of "Outlined In Chalk". Although the bass is not outright as flashy as the guitar, it definitely is contributing to the density of the band's aforementioned heavy grind "humidity," so to speak.

    Cocaine Titans' drummer, Felipe Soria, is obviously putting the "grind" in the band's death-grind sound with high tempos and blast beats, and his natural skill behind the kit makes for an agreeable performance. Soria's casual style of drumming is a constant sustain of galloping and blasting. His quick rolls on the top of the kit are just as sharp and precise as the double bass pedal ones below it. He's tossing out brisk rolls and fills like he's shelling peanuts—subtle, but effective. The shuffling blasts on closing track, "No Front" are a way of changing things up while still keeping things moving. When things do slow down, his tribal-esque hardcore breakdowns and sashaying cymbal work underscore the guitar's massive chugs. 

    Another thing the drums have going for them is a solid and quality production. A benefit of the album being recorded by Dark Tone Audio engineer and metalcore drummer, Ramon Villarreal. The tom hits are booming, the snare is where it's supposed to be in the mix and the kick drum has a real nice sound to it. Whether it's synthetic or not, the kick stands out and hits pretty crisp and professional. You can almost visualize the blurring of the resonant head and feel the impact. All and all, the kit sounds overly decent and sounds like it could almost hold up to some bigger named, more funded metal bands.

     Keeping track of Cocaine Titans' vocals and who's doing what, when and where, can be a little convoluted on Chosen Violence. Live performances offer some indication, yet how things are apportioned in the studio is difficult to discern, in my opinion. But who cares? The contributions of the group make for a more tumultuous temperament and more of that Cocaine Titans personality. The vocals incessantly shift in pitch and tone as the band sees fit, like some sort of coked-up sardonic skin-walker. 

    Frontman Niko McDade, cuts a fun and imposing figure with his grilled-out snarl and his signature ski-masked stage persona. The balaclava-wearing, bespectacled brute MC's the mic with a rabid roaring rampage of husky growls and gurgled howls that are seething with a shit-talking mockery. A very similar style and aesthetic to City Hunter's James Trejo, although more hoodrat than horror.

    Flanking McDade's frothy barks are Feltersnatch's death metal lows and Lopez's hardcore shouts and additional high screams, or at least from what I can tell. As far as what I can make of the lyrics, they seem to be a combination of antagonistic verbal abuse, Tony Montana quotes and the acclamation of cocaine and cocaine accessories—all delivered with as much spite as legally possible. Although, this band doesn't seem to be concerned with legalities. 

    With song titles like "Habitual Line Stepper", "Razor Ramon","Rocketh In My Socketh" and "Don​'t Thank Me, Thank The Knife" (a "Don't do what Donny Don't does" deep cut) I think it's a safe bet that Cocaine Titans are as much tongue-in-cheek as they are finger-to-gums.

    I don't like solos. I don't like lead guitars. I don't like melodic riffs or vocal harmonies. I like my grindcore how I like my Whataburger order—plain and dry—fast blast beats, heavy riffs, unintelligible vocals, no vegetables, no condiments. Cocaine Titans are all of that, yet still have enough charm and skill to have a unique and alluring grind flavor. 

    Despite the band's prior EP(s), 2022's Chosen Violence is Cocaine Titans' first truly legitimate release and for a premiere album it is an exemplary debut. The fourteen minute CD is a great sounding, well played addition to Houston's legacy of genuinely great grindcore bands. Currently, 2023 finds the band working on a split EP with fellow H-Town grinders, Shotcaller. 

    Chosen Violence's combination of grindcore, death metal and even hints of beatdown hardcore are the best combinations of velocity and ferocity. These nose-candy ne'er-do-wells are doubling down on the Hustle-Town heavy. The style, the quality, the band themselves are Houston through and through. Cocaine Titans might just be well on their way to the top of the heap of Houston, Texas' grindcore empire. Now, who's holding?

FFO: Insect Warfare, Skullsmasher, PLF, Kill The Client

Listen to the album: https://cocanettans.bandcamp.com/album/chosen-violence