Morbid Angel - Radikult

 Riff mark: no

Garbage. It took five years through an eight-year studio lapse to shamelessly piss out this insulting, irritating mockery. First, the band’s a mess. Sandoval’s unceremoniously dropped following injury and Vincent’s back in the fold after a near decade of not, meaning Tucker’s out of a job, too. Dragging behind Vincent’s black leather-platform heels is all the industrial muck and residue from his wife’s BDSM sessions, which he lathers liberally across Illud Divinum Insanus. This is barely a crossover record more than it is ego masturbation, or just bad music altogether. Trey passively plays the submissive through motions of maybe-MA songs like Blades for Baal or Nevermore, but the superimposition of Cavalera-ish vocals from Evil D ruin everything. He just sucks. Too Extreme sucks, Mea Culpa sucks, and Radikult is the suckiest suck to ever suck, a 7-minute black hole of suckage that rips from both Marilyn Manson and (no, really) Body Count. Awful 90’s backyard goth with unlikable synths and those annoying over-triggered quarter-note bass beats (a studio waste of Tim Yeung for half this record). I mean it just floors me that so many critics and e-zines accepted this shit yet similar one-shot hybrid attempts like 34.788% Complete and Blackacidevil are universally chastised (relax, I’m not praising those albums, either). Hurtful. I’m writing this in 2015 and I’m still pissed. Suffering on all levels of hell.  

Estrogenocide - Balls

Riff mark: yep

Baptism by fire…about a decade back I reviewed for a fairly well-known metal site and this was the first album sent to me, attached with an awfully-sad promo citing influences such as Depeche Mode and Napalm Death. If the deceptive, Violator-like rose on that cover discharges fragrance of either band, email me coupons for a fresher set of ears. Better yet, email me anything; I’ll take heavy sedatives delivered to my doorstep, expedited. It’s remarkable that someone remembered this CD and posted it on Youtube (40 hits on this vid so far!), the experience of its uprooting not unlike opening a sarcophagus rank with computer dust inhalants. No guitar, no bass, no acoustic drums. It’s all synth, all C Major, all 3-note songs, all drum machines, all whisper talk of not-so-sweet nothings such as “cunt kicking” and “cutting nipples off”. Porno grind made with bad keyboards and giggles. I’m not even explaining it correctly and I don’t care. Really the bottommost punctuation in the one-dimensional plane of minimalism, proving that anyone can make their own damn music, but most people will like you less for it.

Alien Fucker - The First Rape In Space (Full Album)

Riff mark: Dat Intro Tho


I quit forever.