There are bands who go to insane lengths to make an album sound polished and pro. They book themselves into a swanky studio and get the best producer they can afford, practise, practise, practise until their act is as tight as a nuns you-know-what and even send the guitarist for a few lessons with Mr. Vai.
Then there is Blasphemy Rites. This is more the type of band that gets together, makes some fucking ungodly noise just to offend the neighbours and probably ends up with an album by accident. Fuck studios – they probably recorded this in a dank cellar covered in six inches of dust with excrement smeared across the window and chunks of vomit caked into the mixing desk. It is THAT filthy!
I’d like to promise you that I can continue this review without saying anything that will put you off your dinner, but, well, I’d be lying. The album begins with a bit of ‘Bestial Necromancy Sex’ – which gives you a pretty good idea what to expect here. At over two minutes in length this is a bloody epic when compared to the likes of ‘Damned Bastard Of Hell,’ or the 19 second ‘Genocide’ which literally throws up all over you and runs off leaving you scratching your head. Err…what just happened? This certainly takes a leaf or two from the book of grind in that sense, and musically there’s some down-tuned and dirty guitars that play to that tune as well. Still, it’s all a bit of a hodgepodge and there’s a blackened edge to this especially in the raspy, spewed vocal style.
Things are fast and formidable on the likes of ‘Hideous Lord’ and well everything for that matter – the drumming here is rudimentary for sure, the bassline slack and a bit punkish at times. The riffs are downright deadly, and everything about this is filthy and underground, full of hatred and aggression. The previously mentioned ‘Damned Bastard…’ has a cool change in tempo and suddenly it’s a thrashing rhythm highly moshpittable, while ‘Apocalyptic War’ has an atmospheric intro passage that drags you straight down to hell and gives your face a pounding. Simplistic, dirt-encrusted riffs and lightning fast drums feature heavily on this track and to top it off there’s a botched guitar solo, which I am guessing is intentional.
At 32 minutes in length, this isn’t going to eat up too much of your time. If you’re in the mood for some full-on, blackened grinding mayhem that sounds like it was recorded in a toilet then this is for you.
Too underground to have a website, so check out their record label instead –
http://www.paganrecords.com.pl/
