Started by GEWALTMONOPOL, December 15, 2009, 09:30:59 PM

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Quote from: andy vomit on October 18, 2019, 06:21:36 PM
Quote from: ConcreteMascara on October 15, 2019, 04:41:16 PM

The Vomit Arsonist ‎– Nihil Dicit cassette - Deathbed Tapes - ltd to 40 copies?! that ain't right. for my taste this is the best Vomit Arsonist material I've heard. I think my opinion is boosted by the shorter run time and that tape saturation adding a physical element to the sound, but that tracks are really good too. the a-side has a nice build with the last track "Cycle" being one of the one TVA played in Providence two weeks ago if my memory serves me. and the b-side continues the quality all the way through to the end. I had to instantly start the tape over after my first listen. I hope this material sees a reissue or expanded edition or something because this is too good to be limited to 40 copies.

i am very open to a reissue if anyone wants to take that on, hah..

Let me know when this happens. I want to get a copy myself


Working through some Geography Of Hell stuff - "Sarajevo 1992"; "Sabra Shatila 1982" - enjoyably immersive, dense but cold layers of industrial wreckage. Good stuff.

Major Carew

Quote from: martialgodmask on October 19, 2019, 03:43:07 PM
Working through some Geography Of Hell stuff - "Sarajevo 1992"; "Sabra Shatila 1982" - enjoyably immersive, dense but cold layers of industrial wreckage. Good stuff.

They don't disappoint. Definitely going to see them in London next month if i'm not working that Sunday.

Bloated Slutbag

See bottom of this post for digest commentary.

Heat Signature – Dehumanization In Progress
Heat Signature - Disguised Human Presence (reissue)

Heat Signature. Good title for the explosive pressures ripping through the 'holes. That's pressures plural, 'holes duly subjected to a wide and abundant range of blown-out, whole 'hole, Hole Blow (™) - you've heard the sounds, now try the breakfast cereal! Hole Blow: rich in fiber, ripped and ragged fiber, fibers, textures, strands, blown out textured strands, ripping apart, by degrees, alternately methodical and maniacal, swollen crunch-heads exploding in red ragged rains of raw, searing, heat. Cap'n Crunch has nothing on the shit.

I see the 'holes, or their corporeal hosts, frozen to the ground, shaking in the immediate aftermath of hypersonic ordnance scorching overhead, the sound barrier literally blown apart. Pressures plenty, but packed tight with propulsion, drive. These boys don't futz around, don't dilly dally, they go places, are going places, at speed, savagely cramming all entrances and one exit with unsightly crunchloads of fat, meaty bludgeon-gristle...or so the sounds will have you believe.

Fuck it, I'm a convert. Where do I sign for my free box of Hole Blow?

Conceptually, the two discs seem to link together neatly. Where the earlier DHP reads more as documentary-style reportage on human-killing-machine-in-action, the freshly minted DIP goes deep into the complex psychology that may create such a machine, the necessary process of dehumanization, of the self and/or of the targeted other, climaxing in the aptly titled American Bogeyman. It's all a bit vague, which is fine by me. The sounds are where the real action is. Emphasis on action.

I think, before I accompany Heat Signature on their human-killing spree, I'd like to (attempt to) penetrate the psyche. The Dehumanization commences with an unceremonious hefting of hefty metal scrap into pitch-black junk chamber, clearly establishing the depth of sources at root, circular scrape-metals growing more enamored in the stale gloom. Then at twenty-three seconds the Torture Of Feeling proper, full-bodied multi-textural crunch-plosives utterly shredding the sound barrier. Nothing settles in the afterburn, not for a moment. Constant shift, change, movement- told you these boys were going places. Analog squeal-bleat, raging bludgeon-blurt, flatulent rumble-sludge, percussive lung-drop, waterfall burble-wash, grit-textured gravel-grind. Constant shift and change but I wouldn't say spastic; the sound field is way too full-up, redzoned capacities almost continuously maxed out, exceeded. Result: clearly within the harshnoise category if not overtly harsh- at least, not at any perceptible surface. All the points and edges are blown up reeeal good, diffused over a broad and mangled spectrum, harsh gradations masked in the infra-redzone. So perhaps not perceptibly harsh in an immediate call-your-audiologist sorta pose. Your severely overtaxed speakers may feel otherwise. DENSE. There's your word. There's your fucking word.

Over the six remaining steps of total dehumanization, there's little deviation from the essential overloaded densities first postulated. But that's not to say the boys are repeating themselves. There is just so much...goddamn...shit in play. Shedding The Human Psyche is perhaps the most purely driven into extremes of analog excess, feedback bleat occasionally puncturing the claustrophobic pressures, eruptions of boisterous volcanic spray providing short-lived moments of relief from tightly choking rumble-grip. Frontline Embodied Machine offers a few sneak peaks at the underlying scrap-clank before massed psych-laced feedback squalls drive the heaving mass into completely unforgiving confines of bass-squooshed blubber-sludge.

Dawning A Hollowed Gaze cycles through sickened twitches of looped choke 'n bleed, and then the fiery maelstrom: Crunch Almighty, reigning down from on high, brutally leveling everything in its path. In the closing minute the brutal dis-mercies are voiced through a properly HARSH blistering rage of vocal-tinged scorch. Then the deranged fever-peak of Target The Other, squeal-leavened freak-frenzy nose-diving through densely cloistered meat-grinder spinct-channels, escape hatches plugged in filth-pits of rumble-burnt tension. Toward the fifth minute, the Other is spotted and the inevitable storms of ferocious shrieking scorchout light up the field, momentary flits of vocal-spastic cutting into the discombobulated crumble-scrunch. So to the brief and entirely gratuitous Impassive Carnage, a cycling wild-eyed schizo-discursive, hunkered down turd-clusters drilling into the central passage, broken repeatedly by wide-bodied foaming-at-the-mouth-grade blasts of shriek-laced blister-spray.

At last the American Bogeyman in all gory glory. Now, you wanna know what's wrong with this world? I mean, you really want to know? Beats me man, but here listen to this. Going out. Not with a whimper, but a bang. Several bangs. Bangbangbangbangbang. Gotcha. Filthed crunchturds roll around in the sphinct-ditch, wretching, surging, flatulating. Sudden screech-blast and all fricken hell pours in. From the periphery, the acoustic edges strain into a suddenly complex frame, shrieking, stabbing, needling bleed-textures, flits of vocal-belch, occasional rat-a-tat ruptures of the textured fabric. Then the whole fucking thing blows the fuck apart, and fucked if I know what in fuck's going on. At one point the field is blown open to full-bodied screechy-scorch, the next collapsed into tightly constricted oscillations of heavily distorted thunder-bilge, shovel-fulls of sludge dumped into one ear, another ear pulled down into the buckling undertow. A final ascension to blaze of severely-pitched shrieking glory, ground down, snuffed cold, in knob-twizzled shizzle-dirt.

Disguised Human Presence is, perhaps, every bit as DENSE, active and textured as the Dehumanization, but is for the most part significantly less suffused with explosive, military grade, crunch-ordnance. This provides for smoother, more transparent tour of heavy duty lurch and bludgeon. The human presence is rather less disguised, you might say, particularly on fifteen-minute opener Learning To See In Infrared. An initial jittery hammered retort merges quickly with straight-ahead grey-washed sheer before weightier heaving dimensions underscore a series of often convulsive interactions with low, belching, underbellows. At intervals we could be in the open air, albeit open air belching black choking fumes through scrambled layers of flatulent turbulence, mindsear charging headlong down the barely visible underbrush, chunks of dirt, branches, shrapnel slapping at the face. At other moments voices seem to shout in alarm, just as immediately drowned out in the ensuing barrage of thunderous crushing distortion walls. No let up in tension, no pause for reflection. Toward the end the human death-machines work themselves up into such an overbludgeoned lather that the threat to blow the frequency spectrum to kingdom crunch is palpable. Fuck it man, If It's Warm, Shoot!

Track the second would originally have occupied the flip side of the original tape from which this disc is reissued. No question, a palpable upping of tensions. Or at very least, of distortions. Here we're starting to approach that blown out texture espoused in the Dehumanization. The general feel and pace is more hectic, almost frantic at times, scrambling haphazard across a dense range of lower-mid-uppers, caught up in the moment, shredding 'hole for all it's worth, flits of clipped voice cutting into the scene. As the more scorching developments spike into play, as aggression boils over to purple-faced rage, overtly HARSH ripping assaults start to blast through the 'holes.

By the time the full and blasting assault has run the course, it's Just Meat Now. Here, at last, the overbilged military ordnance starts to blow holes in the proverbial swollen crunch-heads. DENSE, punishing, brutal. Thick, rich, chocolaty. Chock-a-block full-in-body multi-textural crunch-plosives ripping the 'holes a new pair. In fact, with a bit of tweaking on ye olde master tape, this could probably sneak into the Dehumanization and few would be the wiser. Like, some heavy shit mon. Almost the whole of this whole 'hole Hole Blow is given to crushing bludger-scrunch shit-valanche. Of breathing room, then, not much. And talking dead meat, I suppose breathing is not really of essence. At least at the surface. But hold on. Ain't that just what they want you to think? The living breathing human presence, disguised? Ohhh shit. In fact, just below the crushing over-arch, massed shifting rumble-clusters are surging all the hell over the place. Here, there, every-goddamn-where. Well my dude, I did tell you them boys was going places. Uh, dude? DUDE? Ohhh shit. A wee span of high-end squealy dealies bleed into the closing minutes, but almost as an afterthought. There is. Afterall. So. Much. More. Stop paying attention for an instant and you done screwed the pooch m'boyo, and this puppy is done.

Digest spew:
Dense, multi-textural blast pressures literally blowing apart the sound barrier. In the immediate aftermath of hypersonic ordnance ripping overhead, you may be forgiven for crapping your fatigues, quivering in red ragged rains of searing, crunch-splosive, heat. DENSE. Active. Driving. Propulsive. I tell you, these boys are going places. Here, there, every-goddamn-where. At speed. Pay attention cause you sleep for a moment and you are blown to kingdom crunch. Truth be told, you are blown to kingdom crunch, regardless.
Someone weaker than you should beat you and brag
And take you for a drag


Recent listening has been the excellent and highly recommended reissue of HIMUKALT "Come October" cd on Found Remains. The second and final, bonus track are worth the price alone! Intense, dynamic work.

Also spun "The Baneful Choir" cd by TEITENBLOOD twice. First spin, I liked it but it really kicked in on the second time around. Intense drumming, wild solos, weird soundscapes. There's a lot going on in these songs. If you're a fan of death metal art, go for the vinyl as it looks a helluva lot better than the cd but the length is 51 minutes so not sure yet how that sounds on one record. I haven't listened to hardly any metal in around 2 years so this was nice & pretty checks off all the boxes for my evil metal needs. Along with Python.

BIZARRE SS cd (Filth & Violence)- Pasi sent me the most intimidating package I think I have ever received! So much ugly harshness, I barely knew where to start so I went with this brand new collaboration between BU & SICK SEED. Plain black artwork with some sort of red imagery behind the disc tray & that's it which is perfect for what maybe one of the very best collab's I have ever heard! This thing starts out pretty tame then turns into wailing Finnish feedback hell and never lets up again. It ends with nasty static, weird low-end filter sounds, a continuing loop.... Fuck. It's just INTENSE. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED!


F&V went to old school. Same email works, so orders should be like before. All new & old releases should be available on Freak Animal for those who don't want to go through the "old school ways of ordering".
E-mail: fanimal +a+ cfprod,com

Zeno Marx

Dave Phillips - Sixth Mass Extinction 2019 - another menacing, sonically violent, and dynamically satisfying release - at times, it reminds me of early Dissecting Table - not a lot of high production coming out today, at least that is on my radar, so I really appreciate how DPhillips isn't raw or ran through nostalgic gimmicks; huge sound, and I'm grateful to him for that.

Teitanblood - The Baneful Choir 2019 - it's going to take more than this one listen to form an opinion other than CHURNING.

Discharge - "The More I See" regular and extended versions - I can put this song on repeat for an hour - I'd love to discover a band thats entire existence is formed around this one song.

Deathcharge - Love Was Born To An Early Death 2011 - weird album - if Jello Biafra was heading a goth band.

Bad Influence - Afterbirth 1995 - it's the season for gloomy, heavy, thoughtful music.

Discharge - The Price Of Silence 1991 - Japanese collection of later releases.

Bombardment - Demo 2016

Bombardment - s/t 2019 - not Dis-, but Discharge-heavy punk with good female vocals - I didn't hear them until now - I like this quite a bit.
"the overindulgent machines were their children"
I only buy vinyl, d00ds.


Quote from: Zeno Marx on October 24, 2019, 10:59:56 PM
Deathcharge - Love Was Born To An Early Death 2011 - weird album - if Jello Biafra was heading a goth band.

First track sounds like Jello with the Melvins.
Primitive Isolation Tactics
Scream & Writhe distro and Absurd Exposition label
Montreal, QC

Euro Trash Bazooka

Quote from: Zeno Marx on October 24, 2019, 10:59:56 PM
Bombardment - Demo 2016

Bombardment - s/t 2019 - not Dis-, but Discharge-heavy punk with good female vocals - I didn't hear them until now - I like this quite a bit.

You forgot the E in BombardEment


Bloated Slutbag

See bottom of this post for digest commentary.

Kazumoto Endo – Keiyo
Kazumoto Endo often comes across as a noise technician. At least, to these 'holes. Less the artist, more the tinkerer, mechanic, demonstrator of gear-of-the-moment in action. Of late this seems more true than ever, though perhaps it has always been the case. (See the earlier Killer Bug incarnation and the spring-loaded washboard thingy that seemed to accompany the good chap everywhere he went, aka the Killer Bug.) But where masterworks like While You Were Out and Brick & Mortar are quite obsessively wrought, with meticulous attention to the teeniest minutiae, the more recent work- everything since Quattro Pulsanti Bomba- is more straight-forward, live, in-your-face. RAW. What you see, sometimes right on the damn cover, is what you get. At least, to these 'holes.

There is no question, at least to these 'holes, that the more minimalist incarnation can provide for quite spectacular comp or 7inch appearances. To the question, does this translate in equally spectacular measure over a full-length course? Well, let me counter with a question for you: how harsh do you like it? Or, in the dialect of the spastic: how MOTHERFUCKING HARSH do you MOTHERFUCKING like it? Well okay then. Guess you've answered your own question. MOTHERFUCKER! I think my job here is done.

At least to these 'holes, the stripped down approach has a way of focusing attention. In fact, as the attention will begin to glean, there are plenty of details, that is to say, minutiae, to be prized open and obsessed over.

And lots.

Of dead.


There are even a few beat-like pulsing intervals, though the effect is far from anything like booty-shakin'. Slow repetitive pulses that will, again, serve mainly to focus attention. If not on the minutiae then upon the fact that your earholes are, very methodically, getting fucking ripped apart. Methodical. Another word worthy of emphasis. The method is careful, calculated. Much un-like Brick & Mortar- that other champion of the dead air- the spastic inclinations demur to a dry, poe-faced demeanor. No sense of precarious balance, no rapidly panned hyper-spasmic gesticulation- in fact, no panning whatsoever- no suggestion that at any moment things are to go flying off the handle. It feels like we're in a laboratory. Clinical. Sterile. White gloves setting to work a vintage set of cutting tools, carefully extracting shreds of audio essence with a clinically detached bemusement that occasionally worries but frankly works. The results are not exactly of the precision-crafted persuasion. Rather rough, brutal. Possibly even that wee bit sadistic, face hidden behind surgical mask but intensity of gaze suggestive of thin lips with edges turned very-slightly upward.

Grey Skies slams into to the 'holes with a well-spaced series of irregular, percussive, scrap-blasts. Sharp, tangy, metallic, edges chafed and frazzled, piling rust-covered decay-streams one on top of the other, acquiring abbreviated degrees of density, warbling through whiny, modulated, feedback stretches, before cutting out in dead silence. Then starting up again. At the more intense intervals, the percussive scrap-blasts come in rapid succession, like the man is hacking in frustrated urgency at a stubbornly indestructible piece of metal junk. At other intervals the man holds back and lets the occasionally overlapping streams of whining, whingeing and moaning run their course.

As the first series of percussive scrap-blasts announces the title track, it becomes apparent that pretty much the whole album is going to sound like this. Grey, grey skies. Rather dour, downcast, grim, consistent with the like-colored images of heavy industry gracing the cover. Here, however, there is more. More movement, more variation, more shit. More silence. And much more of what I will dub the saving grace of the album: tension. Tension delivered through pitch-perfect timing and tone. Pitch black opening, the aforesaid whinge and whine making way for bass-pitched test tones, pitched in counterpoint to hacking scrap-fits that actually do get pretty hairy, or HARSH, in their more frustrated intervals. At the first minute, the first introduction of slow, rhythmic, metal hammering, a recurrent motif. Very...industrial. Very live. The perfect contrast to the hairier moments of screechy, scrap-textured, wig-out. And make no mistake, the shit does, for all its dour poe-faced-ness, wig out. Wigging out in calmly controlled bursts, never close to flying off the handle, the grip tight, choking. And just that wee bit sadistic.

That's two tracks done and I'd say this boy done shot his wad. Go Clamming concentrates most of its attention in the upper registers, but otherwise does not deviate from the essence as established. Perhaps a dab more in the way of full-loaded electronics rounding out the percussive bursts. Also a more crystalline arc to the piece, breaking into distinct electro-predicated rhythmic movements, tension slowly spiraling into the necessarily brutal-iste denouement. Banzu drops glitchy clipped-tronics into machine-like shriek-stutter, cycling bass oscillations establishing a palpable narrative structure to ripped and ragged metallic screech-bleed, closing with dull repetitive thump in stark contrast to the 'hole damage being done. High Tide concentrates its early energies on the delectably sexed-up titillations of scantily-clad, scrappily-clothed, junk-acoustics, dainty squeals and screeches stretching obscenely to accommodate their undeniably crude, lecherous, 'hole-drilling excess. Fucking good. Two minutes and in drops the album's first straight-ahead beat-pulse, metronomic, dry, driving severe snatches of incisive dental scree to a bit of head-nodding, Brick & Mortar, throwback.

Shiosai reclines in whine-soaked ambient sheen of what could be bowed, rust-covered, metals. Which only serves to accentuate the unvarnished brutality of the scrap-edged blasts that rip, alternately ragged and piercing, through the reverberant haze. At their upper edges, the junk-scraps seem to glisten, to salivate, to even, say it, grin with undeniably sadistic delight, the harsh lusts well and convincingly slaked, the 'holes well and truly traumatized, the technician in eternal struggle with his undeniable art. At least, to this sodhole.

Digest spew:
Since the dropping of Quattro Pulsanti Bomba, Endo has been steadily tightening up his decidedly minimalist concerns. Tightening tightening tightening... tight. Real tight. Tense. All the HARSH you can consume, so, yes, automatic boOOOIiing. But the essential boOOOIinng here is delivered, not so much in the harsh- which, I freely admit, is all I need- but in the tightness. In the tension. Well regulated, studiously composed attention to pace, period, interval, interplay of succession of elements from one moment to the next. It may worth noting that, after a long string of collabs, splits and compilation appearances, this is his first full-length to be issued in the apparent minimalist mold. (Leaving out the recent Killer Bug lp!) So to say, a statement. What to say, statement received.
Someone weaker than you should beat you and brag
And take you for a drag


I began listening to various Heretic Grail releases this past weekend.  I have been intending to check them out for a while, and I wish I did so much sooner.  The music is very harsh, atmospheric, and is composed well.  I will definitely try and delve deeper in their material.

Is this project still active?  The discogs page makes it sound like it was only around for a year or so.


Quote from: Balor/SS1535 on October 28, 2019, 04:13:41 PM
Is this project still active?  The discogs page makes it sound like it was only around for a year or so.

the shorter the project life, the more automatic kvlt appeal you have. ultimate kvlt status is never even starting a project, and then telling everyone how good your C10s would be if you ever recorded/released them.


Searching for a nice Halloween soundtrack - right now it's Thergothon - Stream From The Heavens. Good start.

What's your favourite Samhain/Halloween...whatever you call it - music?


Last night I listened to The Misfits "3 hits from Hell" & "Night of the Living Dead". Ran across those on a blog so I d/l'd them.

Also listened to Electric Wizard "Time to Die" cd. Picked up a cheap copy recently. I didn't care for the material back when it came out but now, I like it a lot. I guess I'll have to give "Wizard, Bloody, Wizard" another chance.

Fistfuck Masonanie

Quote from: bitewerksMTB on October 31, 2019, 06:40:22 PM
Also listened to Electric Wizard "Time to Die" cd. Picked up a cheap copy recently. I didn't care for the material back when it came out but now, I like it a lot. I guess I'll have to give "Wizard, Bloody, Wizard" another chance.

Agreed, Time To Die is my favorite album since Dopethrone. It felt like a proper return to form and I was surprised to see all of the negative reviews/opinions when it first came out. I honestly find Witchcult Today and Black Masses kind of boring but I seem to be in the minority in that aspect.