Today I saw a man walking down the street with a blue beard, this can only me one thing; Summer is around the corner you shitters.
Monday, March 9, 2015
Sunday, March 1, 2015
A black metal purist would rather be baptized than slap Ghost Bath with the label 'black metal', in part due to fear of being strung up by his heels and tarred and feathered by droves of furious black metal traditionalists… They are also as fiercely loyal as they are obtusely ignorant when it comes to protecting the genres aphotic purity. This is fine by me.
With that being said, Ghost Bath's upcoming release 'Moonlover' seems to nestle in more accurately with the Black Gaze movement, a term that gets some crowds all rankled and riled up.
I have listened to the song Golden Number in full as I am posting this, being the first song I have heard of Ghost Bath as I wasn't familiar with their 2014 release Funeral. I was neither wooed nor disappointed, but I must admit that riff at 01:47 into the song nullified the evil atmosphere that was building up, for minutes after that riff the guitars and drumming are brazenly poppy in sound, sonically akin to a more post-punk ethos, which I guess is par for the course.
In lieu of total transparency, I'd rather just listen to Lunar Aurora, whom were untouchable when it came to making ambient driven black metal with a potent ability to construct genuinely eerie songs that never strayed too far from its roots. I don't mean to compare Lunar Aurora with Ghost Bath as I don't think Ghost Bath is really trying to mimic them, but those heavily drowned out vocal shrieks on 'Moonlover' really make me just want to listen to Lunar Aurora's 'Andacht' instead.
* Enough of what I think, how egocentric of me, I am more curious as to what you guys think of 'Moonlover'? Do we like it? Do we hate it? Do we not really give a shit?
One thing cannot be argued; That album cover is incredibly bleak and I give full points for that. At least they got a leg up on those stubborn black metal dudes with no visual art sense at all. Maybe.
Ghost Bath (bandcamp)
Friday, February 27, 2015
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Mother of fuck, how did I miss this release last year? If you are unfamiliar with Meth Drinker then please let me acquaint you. Dearest reader, this is Meth Drinker, Meth Drinker this is dearest reader, be gentle with them. Isn't the name quaint? It's kinda like Bongripper, with a bit more fuck you to the upper class cadre. These New Zealanders join the venerable echelon of country mates; Witchrist, Diocletian, Heresiarch, Vassafor, Ulcerate and that dude that directed one of my favorite sci-fi horror movies ever, Bad Taste.
Meth Drinker will fill your day up with palpable dread and they will shit directly into your soul and rape the youthful effervescence you thought you had retained.
The droning crunch of guitars give way to a few riffs reminiscent to early Autopsy, only played at an even slower paced tempo. The drums are mixed in with a peculiar fragility to the toms and it seems the bell cymbal overpowers it, which works well to give it that calcified in rot vibe I like my sewer doom to have.
Based on the two songs I have heard, I like it a lot. And maybe when the variance between the American to Canadian dollar conversion ceases to fuck my Paypal purchases I will actually buy the album in full and relish in the cankering charm of 'Oil'.
Meth Drinker (bandcamp)
Meth Drinker (bandcamp)
Thursday, February 26, 2015
Ever wash down a few LSD tabs with a couple pints of raw ether and then saunter over to the town carnival like the town drunk? Nah, me either, but I would like to think it's something Hunter S. Thompson would have done. After all, the man was once quoted saying "When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro."
The going sure gets weird on "The Great Maddening", more accurately, hysterically demented and soaking in a vat of mescaline, marinating the mania all the more. It's difficult to describe this album without using as much hyperbole as a tween would use when describing his first hand-job to an assemblage of prepubescent seventh-graders keen on hearing the exact recount of the sexual tale, all the while trying to realistically wade through all the bullshit… In all likelihood, the hand-job took place behind a shed, and it lasted a total of 13 seconds while some unfortunate female was fumbling around his Affliction boxers trying to locate his "enormous" erection, which had already been pulsating from seamen-free ejaculation. You see, sometimes you need hyperbole otherwise the true story straddles the line of cringe-worthy like a cowgirl with Cerebral Palsy.
Moving on. Le Grand Guignol were once known by the name of Vindsval back when the band members lived in Luxembourg, playing the same type of absinthe binged avant-garde metal with their heels firmly planted in the grounds of demented and horrific sounding, albeit with a sound less meticulous and well crafted as they were on "The Great Maddening".
I rarely post anything of this ilk on SHOM these days, let alone purposefully listen to it (probably because of all the low grade garage punk I've been stuffing in my ears), but when a song from this album came on while briefly playing my music library on shuffle I was taken to it, it floated my proverbial boat, and I remembered that it's okay if metal isn't always deadpan with frostbitten grimness… Look at early black metal and black metal purists of today's day and age, talk about cringe-worthy.
This album warrants some praise for its well articulated use of eclectic instruments like the xylophone, cello, violin, flutes, harpischords and various other keys, which fully attribute to the obscure atmosphere.
Le Grand Guignol (bandcamp)
* Leave an email in the comments if you'd like a download link
Saturday, February 21, 2015
Found this sucker buried in my email inbox. Filthy death metal married with feral black metal flowing through the same abscessed vein as Teitanblood, Proclamation, Weregoat, Heresiarch, Archgoat, Wrathprayer, etc.
It is a suitable soundtrack to listen to whilst charging through the gates of Babylon in search for Persian scalps or while you're sitting on the shitter reading your subscription to "Satanist's Quarterly".
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I was given the link to the EP by thee dank dudes at WORHT Records, check them out and throw 'em some cash if you are touched by their venerable collection of filthy tunes.
Caveman Cult (Bandcamp)
Sunday, January 25, 2015
Really good female-fronted punk from Oslo, Norway. I am not going to dip into the well of platitudes with this one because my hangover requires hydration but I will say this; Dark Times aren't your run of the mill, stripped down punk band… Stripped down yes, but they have a sound to call their own and an eclectic delivery to their sound that frees them from the clutches of "heard this before". It was produced by Pål Bredrup, who also produced Okkultokrati and Haust with that same basement grime charm I've been into lately. This album will fit in with your crusty lifestyle.
Monday, December 8, 2014
"…Then I'll cut off all of your fingers, and then I'll make you try on pairs of gloves… I'm going to pull a knife stunt. And then. I'll cut off both of your ears, so you can't hear what I'm going to do next. And the blood will just run out of your head, like two faucets… I'm going to pull a knife stunt." –
Like any good serial killer or nefarious creature, nobody knows who Leather Slave is, they could be your weird neighbour, or your postman, or the rambling junkie on your street calling every passerby a "handjob and a half!", it's a veil of anonymity that may seem less crucial when compared to the likes of John Wayne Gacy but it is an essential component to the harrowing and seedy vibe of Leather Slave's sound.
A sound that is much less punk and much more looping. But it is still punk, sort of. It sounds like horror-punk because it is scary not because it's content is about b-grade horror movies and Alice Cooper worship. Leather Slave doesn't have a cover of "Monster Mash" and they never fucking will. I promise. This preamble is not a jab at The Misfits, (I like The Misfits more than I could ever love my own children), but it might shed some light on how something actually scary might sound. Unsettling would be the better word to describe it. Seedy and depraved even. Or for you fans of multiple choice, all of the above.
It's impressive because I get the same vile feeling as I do with bands like Meth Drinker, The Body, Impetuous Ritual, or even Canada's beautifully repulsive Revenge would give me although Leather Face are far less abrasive (or extreme) at face value. Instead, the unsettling vibe is manifested through a series of looping sickly riffs and an equally poisoned to the bone style of drumming with singing that isn't singing so much as it is spoken, sounding more like threats and rambling through a telephone more than anything else.
I stumbled on this band via the incredibly good and highly recommended ONGAKUBAKA blog and I scored myself a download link to the album from somewhere else on the deep wide web, and you can too. Otherwise I'd highly suggest buying this fucker, so you can be that cool kid with an obscure record collection nobody will every really see but you wish they would.
Saturday, November 29, 2014
Hear Me, O Death (Sing Thy Wretched Choirs) is aptly named because this album sounds like a heinous funeral march, crawling and plodding much like death itself, scraping away years off your life with each listen. Encoffination have always been about lurching through tracks with a molasses like consistency, moving slower than old people fuck and hitting harder than a dull axe to the face, but this album is exceedingly slower than the rest…
The riffing is slow-cooked in delay and reverb and the vocals are of a brittle guttural secrete, basically gurgling and belching in an almost near death type phlegm coated whisper. It makes me want to clear my fucking throat and bang my head around like an abiding peon of the underdark.
Hear Me, O' Death (Sing Thy Wretched Choirs) on bandcamp