Written by: Blackie Skulless
This past Halloween, a Philadelphia act that’s been dropping short releases for a few years now came forth with a full-length. Bastard Cröss are an act that take the relatively safe route of blackened thrash, one tough to screw up but also tough to stand out. If the band name didn’t make its style obvious, certainly knowing that the album title is Crossripper will, however, despite seeming rather on the nose, I think there’s a little more to what’s before us. In other words, don’t shy away from what seems like just more of the same on the surface. Despite the general aesthetic of aggressive artillery baked with speed metal ingredients and harsher vocal shrieks, you also find a healthy amount of defining characteristics with Bastard Cröss. The vocals miraculously stand out well, not only for the addition of death growls and a scratchier sense, but simply with how coarse and grating they sound against the cleaner background. Musically, there isn’t a lot in terms of blasting, tremolos, or atmosphere, opting instead for a cleaner veneer of more straightforward thrash riffs that combine rhythmic strength and a comprehensive finish. Such contrasts in the music and vocals makes for a hell of a combo; this isn’t to say the riffs themselves aren’t mean, but that they’re digestible compared to the frontman’s horrendous outcries.
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Written by: Blackie Skulless
Perhaps one of my more anticipated albums of the year, Graveripper’s sophomore record took the very approach they hinted at the first time around the block and ran with it. Not only has the blackened aspect taken a deeper root in the construction, but the cleaner surface that presented the first record’s straightforward approach has been roughened up. From Welkin To Tundra even depicts this in its album art, always curating a sound that matches how it looks. Thus, I can confidently say their bare-bones foundation has evolved into something with more identity. For starters, Graveripper have always crafted a “warmer” sound, one I’ve in the past compared to Toxic Holocaust, but the emphasis on black metal tropes have cooled this entirely. Perhaps Cory’s vocals aren’t any harsher than they were, but there’s a filthier snarl to them to coincide with the less-than comforting surface, all playing into the cold atmosphere. Thrash riffs have now become an accessory, not a template, as the record is dominated by explosive drum pummels and rhythmic gradients that care less about melody and more about density. The hookier moments do add a little flare, but nasty motion holds everything together perfectly. |
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