Written by: The Voiceless Apparition

​Barbarity, menace, misanthropy. These three words alone could very well describe the sound of Primitive Man, a noisy and fucking terrifying  3-piece band from Denver, Colorado--but you probably already know who they are. These guys are really rising in the underground, and for good reason. They make excruciatingly slow, noisy, and painful death/sludge. So with Immersion being their third album, and second with Relapse Records, do they finally give in and start making more accessible songs? The answer is absolutely fucking not: they increased the barbarity ten-fold and created an even noisier, more punishing, and twisted album, and it's great!

Immediately you are greeted to feedback in opening track "The Lifer." Just like that, Primitive Man begin this journey. First I have to point out the unhinged, tortured, and agonizing vocals of Ethan McCarthy. His vocals are so fucking visceral and hateful. He really sounds like he is using all of the energy he has to do these vocals. A  vicious way to begin this new opus.

As ye eagle-eyed readers may note, we published a review of this very same album, like, just a few days ago. However, we just couldn't deny Izzy--the Sleeping Village's self-proclaimed reviewer of all things screamy, dreamy, and inbetweeny--a chance to discuss the latest opus from Infant Island. Enjoy this review redux! - Ed.

Written by:Izzy

Not too long ago I reviewed Infant Island’s latest EP, Sepulcher, and along with my mountains of praise for the band, I promised I would do a full-length write-up on the LP they had just announced, Beneath. I fully intended on fulfilling that promise, so here we are. I’ve been in love with this Virginia post-hardcore/screamo revival outfit since I first discovered them in 2018 with their self titled album, and so I cannot wait to talk about it. (Despite taking a little over a week to actually write this due to circumstances beyond my control.)

Sepulcher blew my mind, so I came into this with high hopes, and Infant Island certainly delivered. However, this is truly an example of an album I love, but think could’ve been something more, or maybe something else. That said, I want to end this review on a positive note, so I’ll begin with my few complaints.

​Written by: The Administrator 

First things first: Fullmåne's Lurking in the dark is a lo-fi affair--the rawest application of punk-infused black metal you're likely to find whilst trawling through the underground. This is, indeed, a self-described "dark and dirty snapshot of night time drifting, paranoia and drugs." As such, it's only appropriate that we acclimate ourselves accordingly. Prior to starting in, then, let me find my scratchiest quill, my faintest ink, and my poorest quality parchment. I'll remove my cloak as well--better to write with the lingering threat of frostbite. Oh, and let me shut off the lantern for good measure. In the case of today's EP in question, I think it would be better if I worked by the light of the moon.

There, that's settled. Now I'm ready. Are you ready? Good.

In the course of trawling through independent review requests that slid down the sluice and plop into the promo pit, a rough-n-tumble process, of sorts, has formed. After sampling tracks, this slumbering invariably breaks submissions into vague categories, as to maintain a little bit of order 'round this joint.

The first category: "that was good, I want to examine this further and could be easily persuaded to write about it.

The second category: "that was decidedly not good, if anyone writes about it, it shan't be me."

The third category: "that was outstanding, I must write about this immediately."

Said third classification is exceedingly rare, but when it makes an appearance, it is a wonder to behold. Extensive intro aside, let me assert that "Black Seas," the latest single from Toronto's so-called "Satanic Blues" peddlers Demonchrist, is a track that makes me want to drop everything, run to the scriptorium, and sharpen my quill.

Written by: Izzy 

The instant I heard the single “Earth and Sky," I knew I wanted to review To Dull the Blades of Your Abuse. Only once in a blue moon does a song that genuinely makes me want to destroy something appear, densely packed with crushing riffage and percussion--and this feeling was only solidified by the second single “I, Flatline,” which remains one of the most standout tracks on the album. At that moment it was decided, and here we are with our self fulfilling prophecy.

Much like the album in question, I wish not to waste even a moment before throwing you into an endless pummeling torrent that ends before you realize it’s over, leaving you dazed and confused for hours to come. In the case of To Dull The Blades of Your Abuse, the sophomore LP from Manchester’s Leeched, you will be brutalized by 36 minutes of back-to-back noisy, vicious, and unforgivingly heavy riffs that make you wanna punch somebody's lights out. In the case of my review, it’ll be the unnecessarily obtuse verbosity I write all my analyses with to make me sound smarter than I actually am that leaves you confounded as to what the hell half these words mean and why couldn’t I just say “Hi how are ya this album kicks ass you should listen” instead of writing this massive thinkpiece. 

​But that’s showbiz, baby! If the writing ain’t soaked in glue and glitter it ain’t gonna get no attention, so I invite you to enjoy some kickass brutal jams and expand your English lexicon with me this fine evening. [Or whenever I actually post this - Ed.]