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The Sleeping Village has been around for a few years now, and during that time, a lot of reviews have unceremoniously disappeared into the dark confines of our archives, destined to never see the light of the front page again. Music appreciation, however, is a timeless affair, and in that spirit, here is a review retrieved from the deep dark depths.
Written by: The Administrator (originally published June 15th, 2019)
Given the convoluted intros that have become a bit of a calling card ‘round these parts, we wizened scribes find ourselves in a bit of a situation here. Here's the rub: Entrenched is an outfit about which I know astonishingly little. No niceties regarding city of origin, or band members, or associated acts. In this sense, unless you’ve seen the gloriously indicative album artwork for their sophomore effort Endless Occupation, the music really must speak for itself. And to be honest, it doesn't speak so much as roar vivaciously. Entrenched play, for all intents and purposes, a speed and thrash-oriented brand of death a la Demolition Hammer or Morbid Saint. They wear the visceral war-torn trappings of Sodom--take the track titles, which range from the obvious ("Meatshield") to the goofy ("Goreamedic") to the exclamatory ("Terrorize the Insurgency")--and conduct themselves with the juggernaut bombast of Malevolent Rapture-era Legion of the Damned. Imagine if Merciless lost their more overtly frantic edges, and gained instead a Vader-esque sense of (moderate) composure. But yet, these comparisons are imperfect, and despite existing in a fairly well-occupied space, Entrenched are seemingly their own bloody beast, taking the bits that work, but never feeling derivative to a consequential degree. Needless to say, if you want thrashy riffs and endless bullet-belted aggression, Endless Occupation will scratch that itch with...well, take your pick of rusty implement. Rake. Machete. Lawnmower.
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The Sleeping Village has been around for a few years now, and during that time, a lot of reviews have unceremoniously disappeared into the dark confines of our archives, destined to never see the light of the front page again. Music appreciation, however, is a timeless affair, and in that spirit, here is a review retrieved from the deep dark depths.
Written by: The Administrator (originally published Jan. 5th, 2020)
If medical waste is unceremoniously disposed, as I like to imagine, in a dumpster out back behind the hospital, San Jose's Aseptic is the resulting viscera stew that oozes from bio-hazard bags and pools in the bottom. Not sure what I mean? Just imbibe in the sluicing juices and slimy riffage of the intro to Cascading Fluids. If you're still having trouble painting said picture--and god help you if that's the case--it may help to take note of the irrefutable fact that this EP legitimately sounds like it was recorded in a dumpster. Hyperbole aside, this is good stuff. If you happen to be familiar with Aseptic’s stellar Senses Decay EP, just know that this is an entirely different kind of beast. Same killer riffs, but the aesthetic is stripped to the bone.
The Sleeping Village has been around for a few years now, and during that time, a lot of reviews have unceremoniously disappeared into the dark confines of our archives, destined to never see the light of the front page again. Music appreciation, however, is a timeless affair, and in that spirit, here is a review retrieved from the deep dark depths.
Written by: The Administrator (originally published July 6th, 2019)
Sometimes a band has a almost-but-not-quite grand debut, the kind of album that bears the weight of rookie flaws, but speaks of something larger to come. And then, sometimes, said band delivers tenfold on their next outing, absolutely shattering notions of sophomore slump. And sometimes the groggy-eyed scribe who said he'd review the album in a timely manner spends two months mulling over how best to put his enamorment into words. And that lands us here, with Wolf Blood’s II spinning for what seems the umpteenth time. Wolf Blood is one of those bands who revel in throwing a bevy of ideas at the wall and hoping they stick. Unlike most who engage in such reckless activity, these folks are really damn good at making sure it all stays up there. It’s purely original stuff, and in this business, that's a significant and rare quality.
The Sleeping Village has been around for a few years now, and during that time, a lot of reviews have unceremoniously disappeared into the dark confines of our archives, destined to never see the light of the front page again. Music appreciation, however, is a timeless affair, and in that spirit, here is a review retrieved from the depths.
Written by: The Voiceless Apparition
34 years?! It's crazy to say that Paradise Lost have been a band for 34 years. The masters of doom and melancholy have been going steady ever since their inception with no break-ups or hiatuses in between. After a brief wait, Paradise Lost return with their 16th opus Obsidian, the follow-up to the masterful Medusa. Said album was a slight return to their original death/doom roots, albeit with a modern context...but enough about the past. Obsidian is split into three different and distinct styles. You have the more death/doom-leaning tracks, the more gothic rock/metal-based tracks, and a subtler bridging between the two styles. It feels like a natural progression from the last album, with many of the trademarks we all love and adore about Paradise Lost, but with many twists and turns along the way. Welcome to the world of Obsidian.
The Sleeping Village has been around for a few years now, and during that time, a lot of reviews have unceremoniously disappeared into the dark confines of our archives, destined to never see the light of the front page again. Music appreciation doesn't start and end upon release, and in that spirit, here is a review retrieved from the depths.
Written by: The Administrator
To be frank, I approached Four Dimensional Flesh with immense trepidation. Brutal death metal and/or slam aren’t exactly locales I find myself frequenting with any kind of regularity--if I pass through, it’s usually a lone track in the midst of an otherwise innocuous playlist. While the dedication to slammin’ riffs and woodpecker-on-a-hot-tin-roof percussive fills are certainly attractive bedfellows, the trademark drainpipe gutturals and resonance chamber bree-brees really ain’t this scribes cup o’ vox. And yet here we are, plumbing the gurgling pipes with a grim sense of glee. Why? Because Afterbirth strives to make slam interesting. And it is this quality that remains Four Dimensional Flesh’s greatest strength amongst strengths |
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