Abomination of Unnecessarily Augmented Composition Monikers

My glorious and storied career teaching high school English lasted a single blissful semester before I ran screaming into the wilderness in the face of the near-illiteracy that is the modern American teen. By far the single most compelling argument for widespread forced sterilization of the next generation was the god forsaken overwriting. English students of the world, tattoo this backwards on your foreheads and stare at it in the mirror every morning: stringing together a bunch of big words you really don’t understand does not make you sound smart. The opposite, in fact. Unfortunately, big wordism is a pestilence that carbon dates pretty much to the birth of grindcore. Hell, Anal Cunt pitch perfectly parodied it way back in the mists of time known as 1993 with the brilliant “Abomination of Unnecessarily Augmented Composition Monikers.” Flagitious Idiosyncrasy in the Dilapidation are by no means the first – or even worst – offenders.

From the band name right through album title The Grand Partition and the Abrogation of Idolatry, Success Will Write Apocalypse Across the Sky (yes, I know that’s a Burroughs reference, and that’s not an excuse) seem determined to beat us over the head with both death metal and their word of the day calendars. Word salad fare “Automated Oration and the Abolition of Silence” and “Retrograde and the Annointed” rapes and pillages the more mercifully titled “Cattle,” “Agenda” and “Despot”

I still don’t even know how I’m supposed to pronounce Noisear and then they compound the problem by slinging their $5 words at me too. While the art for album Pyroclastic Annhiallation partially made more sense when I learned about lava flows, the horribly mangled Annhiallation still leaves me stumped. And following in the path of Carcass – by far one of the worst poorly understood big word offenders – make my head go all Vesuvius with tortuous, torturous brain teasers like "Falsified Monetary Mitigation,” “Endless Struggle with the Invariable Imminence” and “Ineffably Inebriated.”

Magrudergrind are about as blue collar and unpretentious a grind band as you’re gonna get. However, they must have invested in a new copy of the OED with the money Willowtip waved under their noses when penning the songs for their eponymous full length. Along side easy to digest morsels like “Heretics,” “Bridge Burner,” and meta-grind joke “Built to Blast,” Magrudergrind gotta show off their erudition on “Abuse of Philanthropic Self Gain.” I dare you to diagram that sentence and tell me what it means.

Pete Pontikoff is an awesome guy who has always had a lot to say every time I’ve hit him up on a topic, but there’s no denying the man spewed a mouthful whenever he stepped to a mic for Benumb, Agenda of Swine or a phone-core contribution to Agoraphobic Nosebleed. Just sometimes I wish I knew what dude was actually trying to say with sentence-length constructions like “Anatomy of Social Issues: Problem + Contribution vs. Solution.”

While it would be easy to pin all of this on the notoriously verbose Napalm Death or Carcass, who pretty much split the credit for most of grind’s tropes – for ill or for better – neither consistently abused the dictionary with as little regard as eco-grinders Exit-13. Pick any song at random and you’re going to chew off a mouthful of polysyllabic folderol meant to dress up a fairly simple lyrical conceit. Why waste the morphemes on “Facilitate the Emancipation of Your Mummified Mentality” when “Free Your Mind” would be some much simpler. C'mon it worked for En Vogue. Ditto “Societally Provoked Genocidal Contemplation,” which could have been reduced to “Society Makes Me Want to Kill You.” That’s nearly 33 percent fewer letters, which I’m sure has to save money when you’re running a record label. As bad as those are, “Self Misunderstood Cerbral Masturbation” and “Anthropocentric Ecocidal Conundrum” are downright hermetically abtuse.

It’s enough to make a guy want to set a forest fire.

G&P Review: Agoraphobic Nosebleed/The Endless Blockade

Agoraphobic Nosebleed/The Endless Blockade
Split
Relapse
Though I eventually came to enjoy it on its own terms, I had a bit of a Chinatown reaction to Agorapocalypse at first: I love it, I hate it, I love it, I hate it, I love it and I hate it. *sob*
I’m similarly conflicted about Agoraphobic Nosebleed’s side of this 7-inch split with Toronto power violence revivalists The Endless Blockade. Since their split with Apartment 213, Nosebleed have been drifting further and further from the microgrind mindfucks that they popularized at the start of the new millennium. I’m all for experimentalism, especially from someone as preternaturally talented as Scott Hull, it feels like Nosebleed has suffered and lost focus the more successful Pig Destroyer has become.
The 7-inch was the world’s introduction to new vocalist Katherine Katz and she dominates the first two songs, “Spielberg Summer Blockbuster Snuff” and “One Nation Under Z.O.G.,” both of which feature some classic ANb random assault rifle spray style machine grind, but buried between pseudo sludge meanderings that never seem to decide on a destination. Spoken word free association rant “Sand Worm/Improvised Explosive Dismemberment” easily could have been lifted from one of the interludes on Altered States of America and features some of J. Randall’s most beautifully psychotic ramblings since that album. “Cum shot in the eye of Allah/ American GI caught jerking off/ Inside a mosque/ His head separated from his body/ Like the church from the state” is pure genius and better and more focused than any of the cheap misogyny shock tactics on Agorapocalypse.
While Nosebleed’s half may be a mixed bag of caviar and rotted veggies, The Endless Blockade easily make this EP worth the $6 bucks. The Toronto noisemongers savagely beat and fuck (not necessarily in that order) everything their electronically augmented Godflesh jello wrestling Man is the Bastard at a Capitalist Casualties basement show. “93 93/93” stomps, chuffs, grinds and stops again in the space of about 90 seconds while “Hangman” ponderously surveys the landscape against a backdrop of electronic menace. As with Primitive’s “Perfection,” The Endless Blockade’s “Phantoms” out-Nosebleeds the masters with a dick-in-the-electrical-socket rant while every hair on your body spits arcs and sparks and where Jello Biafra got the honors on Primitive, The Endless Blockade rodeo Mick Harris into screeching out the vocals on the latest version of their ubiquitous, eponymous tune.
The Endless Blockade don’t stray far from the sound they perfected on Primitive, but their half of the split shows them steadily refining the elements, demonstrating why they are clearly the leaders of the power violence renaissance.

G&P Review: Graf Orlock

Graf Orlock

Destination Time Today

Adagio 830

For years now a friend and I have been playing fantasy film league dream casting while meticulously plotting what we think would be the ultimate gangster/heist film. It’s an ideal lineup anchored by Harvey Keitel, James Woods, Christopher Walken, Joe Pantoliano and Steve Buscemi; Jean Reno would be paired with the arbiter of French cool Alain Delon; of course noble bloodshed staples Chow Yun-Fat and Andy Lau would have roles; ditto with the tripartite titans of Yakuza films Riki Takeuchi, Sho Aikawa and Takeshi Kitano. Alex Cox, David Cronenberg and Jim Jarmusch would all get cameos as stylized angels of body horror death. Forest Whitaker and Lawrence Fishbourne would both be sent to fat camp and whipped into shape for their roles. Michael Caine and Bob Hoskins would lord over the British contingent as Limey godfathers to new jacks such as Clive Owen and Thomas Hardy. And just to prove we can out-Tarantino Mr. Quentin in the resurrecting-under-appreciated-actors shtick, we’ve got a lovingly crafted role for Sy Richardson, who was pretty much the prototype for Sam Jackson during those bleak years between the death of Blaxploitation and the advent of Jules Winnfield.

We’re currently putting out calls to Abel Ferrara, Nicolas Winding Refn, Chan-Wook Park, and Michael Haneke for their directorial take.

That much we agree on. What I haven’t convinced him of just yet is hiring Graf Orlock to soundtrack it all, but I think the sweeping cinematics of Destination Time Today just may sway him. The conclusion to the Californian copylefters’ sample-swiping time travel revenge/assassination trilogy of grindular goodness. As always, the riffs are meaty and mean and the vocals are a pass the mic grab bag of ’80s and ’90s shooters and scifi dialogue (Terry Gilliam’s time travel paradox 12 Monkeys gets liberally quoted) repurposed and larded with nods to the film school drop outs’ favorite films. Sure it's not as grindy as its predecessors (like Star Wars, I think we can all agree the second installment was the finest) but it's a damn sight better than "Eye of the Tiger."

But befitting its place in the narrative when our cinematic hero would get all badass on a slew of ill-starred underlings or when our survivor girl would stop running and pick up an axe, Destination Time Today takes on a truly triumphant tone with “An Interest in Prosthetics,” the last song on the first side. It’s shot through with a blistering trumpet call riff that almost hearkens back to call in the infantry cowboy pictures of yore. Flip the platter and the B side starts with the deadly serious “Deluxe Mental Hospital Tour,” presaging the bullet riddled bloodbath that we all know is inevitable. Of course the crisis is averted, the hero gets the girl and the bad guy takes a well earned dirt nap for his efforts. Like the films on which Graf Orlock have based their career, it’s not the destination that counts – whether it’s tomorrow, yesterday or today – it’s the journey that’s important. I’ve already booked my tickets for wherever Graf Orlock care to venture next because this is sure fire Oscar contender this year.

G&P Review: Insect Warfare

Insect Warfare
Insect Warfare
625 Thrash
Insect Warfare’s single-side, Pepto Bismol pink 10 minute mindfuck vinyl kissoff didn’t click until I saw them namecheck Gore Beyond Necropsy on the back. And then everything made perfect sense.
Anyone expecting World Extermination 2: Electric Boogaloo will be sorely disappointed by the subsequent confounding, Merzbow-esque noise assault. Like Merzbow and GBN (who have collaborated in the past), Insect Warfare (who are briefly active again) gave grind the finger and deliberately confounded their fans with a 10 minute assault of lo-fi noise and FX box abuse that sounds more like elctrogrinders Jesus of Nazareth than Endless Execution Through Violent Resolution.
The songs, if they can be divided in any kind of way, uniformly start with a four beat count off and then devolve into piercing electronic detritus – Beau Beasley is not credited with playing any guitars on this at all but rather other electronic goodies – that threatened to be swallowed by staticky white noise. This is grindcore as performed by poorly maintained industrial machinery in an era before work place safety laws. You just know somebody lost an arm in the process.
Whether or not this is an enjoyable listening experience is almost a secondary quandary as Insect Warfare defiantly pushes grindcore’s outer limits. After being the standard bearer from trad grind’s resurgence the last few years, it’s a startling transition that only reinforces the notion my sneaking suspicion that there may have been more to the Texas trio than they have hinted at on past releases. While younger bands have advanced and perfected similar sounds, Insect Warfare just may have won that war with grindcore, cementing their hall of fame status in the process.

G&P Review: Parlamentarisk Sodomi

Parlamentarisk Sodomi

Regnskog, Fred Og Vegetarmat

625 Thrash

Like a rectal magician pulling a rabbit-shaped dildo out of your ass, Parlamentarisk Sodomi’s encore to De Anarkistiske An(n)aler finds one man metal militia Papirmollen once again brutalizing ears and assholes as he wages a lone wolf war on parliament, the United States and unethical vegetarian food manufacturers.

Lifting “Regnskog, Fred Og Vegetarmat” from De Anarkistiske An(n)aler and adding five new songs, the EP doesn’t feel as consistently strong or unhinged and dangerous as Sodomi’s prior full length, but even these cutting room floor clippings tower over a lot of what passes for political grindcore. The guitars drill down through our privileged, comfortable lifestyle like a diamond-tipped class warfare probe while Papirmollen barks out a litany of war crimes amid anarchist street battle drumming.

“Terrormat FRP” divebombs Norgwegian neo-Nazi politicians and their brownshirted followers with a whammy bar-heavy solo that manages to split the difference between Eddie Van Halen and Kerry King. “Knus Junaiten (USA Do)” gives me one more good reason to be guilty for being an American in a concise 1:26.

Parlamentarisk Sodomi was already guaranteed a prominent spot on many an end of year countdown list courtesy of De Anarkistiske An(n)aler so Regnskog, Fred Og Vegetarmat is just one more cum shot of icing on the anarchist cake.

G&P Review: Parlamentarisk Sodomi

Parlamentarisk Sodomi

De Anarkistiske An(n)aler

625 Thrash

That gimp-masked lion on the cover (a nod to Norway’s coat of arms) comes bearing a bad attitude, a dildo and entire gym bag full of rechargeable Durcaells, a ball gag, nipple clips and a roll of duct tape on Parlamentarisk Sodomi’s second long player. One man fuck fiend Papirmollen pokes, prods and pisses in every orifice Norway’s reigning unicameral body has to offer with 12 new songs that sound like Terrorizer frozen in carbonite in 1986 and Buck Rogersed into the 21^st Century with nary a trace of freezer burn in the process. As with Har Du Sagt "A" Får Du Si "Nal," prominent Norwegian parliamentarians get called out for a bit of verbal BDSM and in a brilliant nod to Carcass of yore, all of the solos are named. The first side of this vinyl treat brings all the breathless brutality that made Parlamentarisk Sodomi one of the standouts of 2008. “Styeg Urban Uvirkeugaet” and “Jeun Oslo Med Joroa” both rip from the get go serving up equal portions of Pintado grind and Hanneman/King whammy bar abuse soloing over flailing trash can drumming.

But it’s side B where things get genuinely interesting. Beginning with a near-Locust calliope-core riff, the nearly 11 minute “Klaebukranikene (de Anarkistiske An(n)aler)” just might be one of the most ambitious, excoriating pieces of up tempo music I’ve heard since Disfear decided to pen a 9 minute d-beat tune. Clearly An(n)aler’s centerpiece and highlight, the song careens through hopscotching grindcore and classic European thrash motifs pierced by a snarling, slightly trebled doublepicked bandsaw riff over top and stitched with cymbal clutching goodness. There have been 10 minute grind albums that couldn’t hold my attention beyond a listen or two, but “Klaebukranikene’s” Louis Black smoking an eight ball intensity grabs me by the face, comes up with some Clockwork Orange equivalent gizmo for me ears and forces to me to fucking pay attention.

If there is any album that could potentially wrest Wormrot’s hard won grindcore crown from them this year, it would likely be De Anarkistiske An(n)aler. And I don’t say that just because Papirmollen mentioned *cough* a certain blog *ahem* in his thank you list. (Dude, that just made my decade).

[Anybody got any clue why Blogger is refusing to upload images?] *fixed*