Thotcrime – D1G1T4L_DR1FT (Prosthetic Records)
Cybergrind is here to stay, and the world is a better and more fun place because of it.
Enter Thotcrime, a four-piece, multinational juggernaut that doesn’t give a shit what normal musical conventions dictate. Their second record, D1G1T4L_DR1FT is a sight to be seen (or heard). Immediately after I played it it, I wish I could have sampled it for the first time again. Twenty-five minutes of what sounds like a computer struggling to buffer a program.
The fact that the record clocks in just barely longer than a rerun of The Office adds to its listenability, but really, take your pick. The clean vocals are magnetic, polished, dare I say, beautiful. The guitars – at least I think they’re guitars – are utterly erratic and uncontrollable. The drumming – again, who knows how much of it is or is not electronically created – is hellacious, bellowing. At one point, Dot Homler’s blistering percussion work sounded like a program freezing mid-launch.
And those sweet, sweet electronics. Producer K. Salmon had a field day on this album. Opener This Isn’t Foundation, Now Give Me Your Skin Please is playfully juxtaposed. trust://fall garners attention with an 8-bit-inspired hook. It’s followed up by what sounds like Mario glitching out before the grindcore comes back to sledgehammer your teeth into dust.
As intoxicatingly frayed and jagged the electronics are, the vocals simply cannot be overlooked. Far from what you’d expect from a run-of-the-mill grindcore record, Hayleyy Sparxx illuminates D1G1T4L_DR1FT with trippy, futuristic vibes. The contrast in styles is stellar, and that doesn’t even do it justice.
Spoken vocals on trust://fall are compelling, articulate. Tweet This! might be the catchiest track overall, and that’s saying something, because the entire full-length has something to gush over. The vocal production featured on Critical Codependence is enough to lull you to sleep in its exquisiteness.
Who knew the soundtrack to a technological meltdown could be so damn enjoyable? 9/10
Obsidious – Iconic (Season Of Mist)
Born in the wake of a mass exodus from German outfit Obscura, the still very similarly named Obsidious are a four piece international technical/progressive death metal act that packs quite a bit of proficient guitar work and maintains direction and structure.
The hits come both literally and figuratively on debut full-length Iconic, though the vocals from Javi Perera – the lone non-former Obscura member – become watered down and emerge as a quasi-technical power metal affair. Guitarist Rafael Trujillo is fit for the task, and on Sense Of Lust, he’s broodingly thick with his sludge riff and dual-wields a dizzyingly complex approach. On the titular track, Trujillo is highly technical in his introduction, though it becomes offset by Perera’s ill-placed clean vocals. When he’s harsh, he’s on point, but the flowery singing doesn’t mesh well with the rest of the performances.
Likewise, Trujillo is monstrously effective with his soloing (Iron And Dust), however the drums seem to act more as a contradiction than a complement. If Perera kept to the “death metal,” it would do more to assist his guitarist. Opener Under Black Skies features hearty, bloated grunts. Sebastian Lanser mans the kit with aplomb here, viciously attacking with bass blasts that eventually morph into lighting-speed tumbles.
Iconic is a musically inclined title contender. But when I first heard the clean-sung sections and the power-metal deliveries, it categorically derailed things for me. The aforementioned title song does show off Perera’s impressive vocal range, see-sawing from high-pitched wails to downtrodden growls. However, more of the latter and less of the former would help to fully accentuate what Obscur, er, Obsidious have to offer. 6/10
Where some bands find themselves struggling to revisit past glory or move on from elongated time away, Nostromo have instead used the break to regather their goals and motivations. Bucephale spews extreme metal at its finest, coupled with an air of adept musicianship. 7/10
Stop everything you’re doing. Put your phone down, pay attention and fucking listen.
Cybergrind is here to stay, and the world is a better and more fun place because of it.
Enter Thotcrime, a four-piece, multinational juggernaut that doesn’t give a shit what normal musical conventions dictate. Their second record, D1G1T4L_DR1FT is a sight to be seen (or heard). Immediately after I played it it, I wish I could have sampled it for the first time again. Twenty-five minutes of what sounds like a computer struggling to buffer a program.
The fact that the record clocks in just barely longer than a rerun of The Office adds to its listenability, but really, take your pick. The clean vocals are magnetic, polished, dare I say, beautiful. The guitars – at least I think they’re guitars – are utterly erratic and uncontrollable. The drumming – again, who knows how much of it is or is not electronically created – is hellacious, bellowing. At one point, Dot Homler’s blistering percussion work sounded like a program freezing mid-launch.
And those sweet, sweet electronics. Producer K. Salmon had a field day on this album. Opener This Isn’t Foundation, Now Give Me Your Skin Please is playfully juxtaposed. trust://fall garners attention with an 8-bit-inspired hook. It’s followed up by what sounds like Mario glitching out before the grindcore comes back to sledgehammer your teeth into dust.
As intoxicatingly frayed and jagged the electronics are, the vocals simply cannot be overlooked. Far from what you’d expect from a run-of-the-mill grindcore record, Hayleyy Sparxx illuminates D1G1T4L_DR1FT with trippy, futuristic vibes. The contrast in styles is stellar, and that doesn’t even do it justice.
Spoken vocals on trust://fall are compelling, articulate. Tweet This! might be the catchiest track overall, and that’s saying something, because the entire full-length has something to gush over. The vocal production featured on Critical Codependence is enough to lull you to sleep in its exquisiteness.
Who knew the soundtrack to a technological meltdown could be so damn enjoyable? 9/10
Obsidious – Iconic (Season Of Mist)
Born in the wake of a mass exodus from German outfit Obscura, the still very similarly named Obsidious are a four piece international technical/progressive death metal act that packs quite a bit of proficient guitar work and maintains direction and structure.
The hits come both literally and figuratively on debut full-length Iconic, though the vocals from Javi Perera – the lone non-former Obscura member – become watered down and emerge as a quasi-technical power metal affair. Guitarist Rafael Trujillo is fit for the task, and on Sense Of Lust, he’s broodingly thick with his sludge riff and dual-wields a dizzyingly complex approach. On the titular track, Trujillo is highly technical in his introduction, though it becomes offset by Perera’s ill-placed clean vocals. When he’s harsh, he’s on point, but the flowery singing doesn’t mesh well with the rest of the performances.
Likewise, Trujillo is monstrously effective with his soloing (Iron And Dust), however the drums seem to act more as a contradiction than a complement. If Perera kept to the “death metal,” it would do more to assist his guitarist. Opener Under Black Skies features hearty, bloated grunts. Sebastian Lanser mans the kit with aplomb here, viciously attacking with bass blasts that eventually morph into lighting-speed tumbles.
Iconic is a musically inclined title contender. But when I first heard the clean-sung sections and the power-metal deliveries, it categorically derailed things for me. The aforementioned title song does show off Perera’s impressive vocal range, see-sawing from high-pitched wails to downtrodden growls. However, more of the latter and less of the former would help to fully accentuate what Obscur, er, Obsidious have to offer. 6/10
Vananidr - Beneath The Mold (Black Lion Records)
Scandinavian metal has an innate ability to emit frosty, ice-covered songs. It’s similar to how southern rock wields an inherent swampy, greasy undertone throughout its storied history.
Scandinavian metal has an innate ability to emit frosty, ice-covered songs. It’s similar to how southern rock wields an inherent swampy, greasy undertone throughout its storied history.
Vananidr’s fourth record in five years, Beneath The Mold, takes this sentiment to the extreme and in 44 minutes, lays down a frozen sheet of ice over the already snow-covered melodic black metal landscape. It’s delectable in that it’s achieved without waxing poetic about Satanism (or nationalism…).
The production is fittingly abrasive. Anders Eriksson’s vocals bite with the same mettle of minus-zero wind chills. His screams are unforgiving, consumed by haze, while also remaining distant and set back underneath the ferocious instrumentations. A girthy, poignant bass coupled with chuggy riffs coats The Watcher in icicles and the omnipresent wily drumming from ex-Amon Amarth skinsman Fredrik Andersson underscores the messy situation in which he was discarded from his previous band.
The percussive work on opener Dominion is electrifying and the dynamic tumbling found on Awake helps not only to solidify the album’s identity; it also firmly carves out Andersson’s ability to vigorously lay down drum lines that belong in multiple genres and settings. Hell, even the monochromatic artwork tells the tale of a bitterly cold, utterly uninhabitable northern wasteland. A lone pine tree is distinguishable in front of wisps of what looks like more flora. In any event, it certainly doesn’t paint a picture of a tropical paradise.
And that’s the heart of Vananidr: the atmosphere is sturdy and unforgiven while the musical output is welcomed and well-placed. At times droning and trailing off, Beneath The Mold likewise possesses power akin to taking a slapshot right to the face. 8/10
Nostromo - Bucephale (Hummus Records)
Their story isn’t entirely unheard of, though it is worth mentioning. Extreme metal veterans Nostromo formed in 1996 and released two full-lengths before taking an 11-year hiatus from 2005-16. Now in 2022, with three-quarters of the original lineup still on board, the Swiss-based four-piece have finally produced an LP to supplement 2002’s Ecce Lex.
That record, Bucephale, personifies the band’s metalcore/grindcore label. Javier Varela commands the microphone with harsh gusto and intense bravado, but is still able to successfully mesh with the instrumentation. While the vocal cadences are at times unstructured, it’s by design and amplifies the ferocity the band unleashes.
Shuffled guitar chugs, grimy sludge and crunchy production over 40 minutes is Nostromo’s recipe. Realm Of Mist is a combustible barrage of hellfire. And despite the decade-plus break, the group doesn’t miss a beat. The erratic nature of Nostromo breeds unorthodox behaviours, which very easily could have ended in a sinking ship of mediocrity. Instead, the unpredictable structure is exactly what draws attention to this record. Even newcomer Maxime Hansenberger elevates the band’s overall sound despite having only been with them for four years prior to Bucephale. The drummer is simple but firm with rugged drum blast-bursts, and also knows how to let loose and devastate.
The production is fittingly abrasive. Anders Eriksson’s vocals bite with the same mettle of minus-zero wind chills. His screams are unforgiving, consumed by haze, while also remaining distant and set back underneath the ferocious instrumentations. A girthy, poignant bass coupled with chuggy riffs coats The Watcher in icicles and the omnipresent wily drumming from ex-Amon Amarth skinsman Fredrik Andersson underscores the messy situation in which he was discarded from his previous band.
The percussive work on opener Dominion is electrifying and the dynamic tumbling found on Awake helps not only to solidify the album’s identity; it also firmly carves out Andersson’s ability to vigorously lay down drum lines that belong in multiple genres and settings. Hell, even the monochromatic artwork tells the tale of a bitterly cold, utterly uninhabitable northern wasteland. A lone pine tree is distinguishable in front of wisps of what looks like more flora. In any event, it certainly doesn’t paint a picture of a tropical paradise.
And that’s the heart of Vananidr: the atmosphere is sturdy and unforgiven while the musical output is welcomed and well-placed. At times droning and trailing off, Beneath The Mold likewise possesses power akin to taking a slapshot right to the face. 8/10
Nostromo - Bucephale (Hummus Records)
Their story isn’t entirely unheard of, though it is worth mentioning. Extreme metal veterans Nostromo formed in 1996 and released two full-lengths before taking an 11-year hiatus from 2005-16. Now in 2022, with three-quarters of the original lineup still on board, the Swiss-based four-piece have finally produced an LP to supplement 2002’s Ecce Lex.
That record, Bucephale, personifies the band’s metalcore/grindcore label. Javier Varela commands the microphone with harsh gusto and intense bravado, but is still able to successfully mesh with the instrumentation. While the vocal cadences are at times unstructured, it’s by design and amplifies the ferocity the band unleashes.
Shuffled guitar chugs, grimy sludge and crunchy production over 40 minutes is Nostromo’s recipe. Realm Of Mist is a combustible barrage of hellfire. And despite the decade-plus break, the group doesn’t miss a beat. The erratic nature of Nostromo breeds unorthodox behaviours, which very easily could have ended in a sinking ship of mediocrity. Instead, the unpredictable structure is exactly what draws attention to this record. Even newcomer Maxime Hansenberger elevates the band’s overall sound despite having only been with them for four years prior to Bucephale. The drummer is simple but firm with rugged drum blast-bursts, and also knows how to let loose and devastate.
Where some bands find themselves struggling to revisit past glory or move on from elongated time away, Nostromo have instead used the break to regather their goals and motivations. Bucephale spews extreme metal at its finest, coupled with an air of adept musicianship. 7/10