Riff mark: 2:13
Cannibal Corpse 2000. Junk food served to voracious
“brutals” who’ve been searching for this exact volume, speed, and balls forced
haphazardly in their obscure, death metal compact discs served by metaphorical
black-market distros. Almost the audio parallel to snuff films, of which that
miserable album cover makes a convincing case. There’s a fanbase for this
stuff, a small unreasonable one, playing the James Woods role in Videodrone, connoisseurs
of the grainiest, torture-laden recording of which there exists one elusive,
lo-fidelity master. This reeks of the dungeon’s slop-bucket, its noisy guitars
and rumbling bass palm-muting through riffs that hemorrhage through the tapes.
It sounds its worst when blasting, and is barely discernible during its
plentiful deathcore breakdowns. Really up to the drummer to twirl the batons
and dictate the start and stop of passages, whose sole, piccolo-of-piccolo
snare steals spotlights too often in braggart manners, hyper-blasting into what
I believe is the first instance of “gravity rolls”. Beyond-Barnes vocal
styling from Ruben Rosas (who, after recording, served two years in prison,
then returned to replace his replacement who died of alcoholism…boy), who
obviously invested time into razor-blading his throat to usher through the
nastiest racket of squeals and gurgles. Well, it takes passion to both play and
listen, the symbiotic relationship between band and audience maintaining a
stubborn-headed entity critics will never pierce. Whatever, you sugar junkie.
You go rot those teeth.
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