What’s your favorite slam album and why? Do you value catchiness in your big bruutz? Clear production? Melodic presence? My favorite slam alternates with my mood between Devourment’s Obscene Majesty and Analepsy’s Quiescence; the former for the excellent execution of such a narrow sound, and the latter for the colors and beauty imbued into the otherwise bone-shattering grooves. Though given a bad rap for its easy-to-emulate smoothbrain caveman stereotypes, slam has shown much evolution in recent years as bands continue to push and redefine the limits of extremity. Hailing from Chile, new outfit Sermon to the Lambs have arrived with their self-titled debut, coming with the usual aggrandizing promises of maximum aural violence and assurances of a downright traumatizing listen for anyone who has ears to hear; will this sermon find the hearts of true believers or leave the congregation cold and unmoved?

Well, at least they know their way around a riff. Periodic snapshots show Sermon to the Lambs at their proselytizing best, with the occasional moment raising itself to headbangable proportions (“Crowned King of the Worms”, “God Spat and the Man was Done”) with a high octane assault. Slam styles range from the chunkier chromatic walks of Maggot Colony or Condemned, to moodier setpieces near the end of “Clergy’s Malevolence” for tonal shift and a sense of climax to round out the release. Melodies are almost completely excised in favor of a full steam ahead barrage, which rarely tinkers with tempo changes or distinguishing features, placing Sermon to the Lambs as students of the class of professors Disgorge and Gorgasm with regard to their commitment to bludgeoning the listener to death.

Sermon to the Lambs by SERMON TO THE LAMBS

Unfortunately, those highlights are few and far between and only serve to exacerbate how unbelievably bland this album is. Vocalist Richard Aguayo falls prey to the maddening trend of not knowing how to let his vocals support the music, choosing instead to slather almost the entire album with belches and brees which possess little sense of diction or phrasing. His gutturals are excellent, but the frustrating insistence on double-tracking them with his more shrill screams is not, and the mix has him pushed so far forward that he frequently drowns out whatever interesting musicality might be hiding underneath. Songs stop and go on a dime, and frequently I’d be surprised to see I was several tracks deeper into a listen than I thought I was, thanks to song conclusions and kick-offs blurring together in composition. Any random 30 seconds chosen to play would certainly unleash an attack filled with energy and enthusiasm, but Sermon to the Lambs is utterly devoid of truly head-spinning moments or anything to warrant repeat listens.

What is the biggest culprit for this? The mix is no help, with all the knobs on the board shoved all the way up to 11, leaving instrument and vocals fighting for attention while the bass’s body is buried in the backyard and forgotten. For the most part, the riffs are no help, a hodgepodge of expected staccato presentations and a beige haze of blasts. The drumming is no help; while skillfully delivered, there are certainly no fills to catch the listener’s attention. Other than the aforementioned moments of semi-memorability in the bookending tracks, there’s definitely no run of riffs to raise horns and toss beer at innocent passerby. Sermon to the Lambs lacks any dose of menace or cinema, though the band definitely tries, taking a page from the book of Brodequin and injecting some Gregorian chant into an intro (“Maximum Apostasy”) before that too devolves into paint-drying and bird watching. The closing track makes a valiant effort to get some real atmosphere with its tempo shifts, and Sermon to the Lambs wisely err on the side of brevity with the releases 30 minute runtime. But ultimately, this is an opaque, textureless, flavorless album, so focused on the brutalizing that it never manages to get out of first gear and approach anything with replayability.

I’ve wrestled for a while on why this is. Objectively, there’s nothing executed that’s “poor” in the literal sense. Instruments are played well, throats are wildly abused, and snares blow out the treble in your speakers with savage glee. One might argue that this was the very vision, and if such monotonous brutality is your jam, you’ll probably find lots more to like here. But slam is capable of its own artistic merit and is more than malleable to compositional adventures, and Sermon to the Lambs is lacking heavily in both artistic vision (beyond “kill”) and compositional adventures. If straightforward jackhammer thrashings are your parish, you’ll find plenty of good word here, but this lion lamb will be attending services elsewhere.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 41 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Comatose Music
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2025

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Symphobia – Hideously Traumatic Review

By Alekhines Gun

Another day, another fresh debut by a slab of young hopefuls. Today’s offering comes by way of Indonesia in the form of trio Symphobia, dropping their first LP Hideously Traumatic after a sole self-titled demo the year before. At a concise two songs and sporting some charmingly ghoulish artwork, that demo was a vile little slab of promising violence, which leaned more into the modern slam trappings of Submerged than the usual brutal death proper Indonesia is known for. No member turnover and a short gap between releases imply a band with a musical vision and an eagerness to slot themselves into the next generation of woe-bringers; do they offer enough to get you back to therapy?

Symphobia have crafted a monument to brutal death of all varieties and walks of life. Trimming down the more overt slam clichés in the production of their demo (particularly the outlandish ping-pong snare) allows for a more matured1 take, walking a tightrope between solid deathly compositions and neanderthalic bludgeoning. Vocalist Jossi Bima does a dead ringer of an Angel Ochoa impression, but a talent for vocal phrasing (and vocal silence) means he actually adds to the percussive oomph of the riffs. (“Scattered”, “Convulsively”) Humam Aliy is a beast on the drums, working a limited set of ingredients into a well-concocted aural meal, with excellently placed sixteenth-note fills and masterfully selected double bass to give the illusion of dynamics and pacing even as the whole of the album never really lets up. The bass2 consistently makes itself felt with shreddage and twangy highlights, adding girth to an absolute smorgasbord of riffs.

Much like waves add texture to an otherwise flat and bland ocean, Hideously Truamatic offers a sense of the nuanced differences in brutal death strains of DNA to add personality to what threatens to be an overly homogenous listen. Do you like Misery Index? “Convulsively” has you covered. Do you think War of Attrition is the best Dying Fetus album?3 “Heinous” sports a riff worthy of a lost B-side from that era. The fingerprints of Pathology, Suffocation, Internal Bleeding, modern Pyrexia, and Cephalotripsy permeate the album, with the glue from highlight to highlight running through the eternal assault of …And Time Begins era Decrepit Birth. While Symphobia begin in familiar form, each time you think you’ve heard the best the album has to offer, the next song manages to come out swinging with a steel chair to top whatever offensive groove or thunderous breakdown came before it. Dodik Bhre offers up one riff-craft lesson after another, with a surprising emphasis on the occasional trebly runs instead of all-bass-all-bottom-end tropes. Songs like “Scattered” and “Abominable” stretch beyond the typical haze of blast beats and powerchord abuse, touching on the most straightforward moments of Defeated Sanity while lurching into a Disgorge-ian sense of mercilessness.

The only negative on such a balls-out assault of this caliber is a common one: the shadow of ones peers. Symphobia have grasped the ingredients of what makes all these other bands great, and distilled their essence into a blender of an album where the listener is tossed in to get slapped in the face with one meaty chunk after another. However, Hideously Traumatic comes across as a highlight reel of various stylings without forming into a cohesive identity for the band themselves. This is a love letter to the foulest and most pit-inducing of aural violence, and the letter is written in excellent handwriting and high-quality paper. I believe the best is yet to come, however, and if they can master the art of wielding their influences into a distinct final offering rather than being a mega-high grade tribute band, they will be ready to drop a slab of carnage to stand alongside the Brodiquins and Devourments of the world.

Just when I thought I was done with brutal death for a bit, Symphobia came out of nowhere with hammers and chainsaws to take my already abused ears to even more dire straits. Indonesia can be proud of its newest offspring, which continues to solidify the country’s reputation for a flourishing scene. That Hideously Traumatic reminds greatly of genre giants is hardly the worst flaw in the world. For now, seekers of euphoria-inducing savagery should find a high worthy of their time, with some truly traumatic moments indeed.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Comatose Music
Websites: Official Facebook | Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: July 11th, 2025

#2025 #30 #Brodiquin #BrutalDeathMetal #Cephalotripsy #ComatoseRecords #DecrepitBirth #DefeatedSanity #Devourment #Disgorge #DyingFetus #HideouslyTraumatic #IndonesianMetal #InternalBleeding #Jul25 #MiseryIndex #Pathology #Pyrexia #Review #Reviews #Submerged #Suffocation #Symphobia

Brodequin – Harbinger of Woe [Things You Might Have Missed 2024]

By Kenstrosity

One of the earlier purveyors of brutal death, Tennessee trio Brodequin, established originally in 1998 and put on hiatus in 2008, reunited in 2015 after a seven-year break. Jan Van Lugtenburg filled in the percussive void in 2016 for a few years, ultimately tagging out for Brennan Shackelford in 2020. Rounded out by founding brothers Mike (Guitars) and Jamie (Bass, Vocals) Bailey, Brodequin worked diligently on crafting their fourth brutal assault of groovy death. Harbinger of Woe is the result, and it might very well be the best thing they’ve put to tape so far.

Brodequin embodies a certain niche of brutal death that recalls the ways of olde, yet remains timeless in their hands. Treading similar ground to long-standing acts like Disgorge, Defeated Sanity, and Mortician, Brodequin swing way harder into the straightforward, no-nonsense, and grinding groove whose sole purpose is bodily harm. Unlike some of their peers, who decorate their monoliths with progressive experimentation, slimy slams, or technical wizardry, Brodequin min-maxxed their sharp hooks skill tree. With Harbinger of Woe, Brodequin unleash a rare album that isn’t doing anything new, nor is it attempting acrobatic feats of songwriting to challenge the genre or its fans, yet it feels fresh and exciting simply for being an unfuckwithable example of the style.

Even so, Harbinger of Woe offers small deviations from the brutal template that help it stand out. “Theresiana” piques my interest immediately with an unexpected dalliance with Gregorian chants. How that fits in with subterranean gurgles and a guitar tone most closely resembling steaming hot asphalt pouring into my ear, I can’t explain. Yet, it fits perfectly. Elsewhere, Brodequin integrate the kind of buttery smooth transitions that I sooner associate with more melodic acts’ output than this unrelenting violence. “Fall of the Leaf,” album highlight “Of Pillars and Trees,” “Maleficium,” and “Suffocation in Ash” make traditional brutal death sound almost ebullient, boasting grin-inducing grooves and bouncy trem-picked embellishments that get my booty shaking on reflex. Stitching the album together across a lean and mean thirty-one minutes, Harbinger of Woe unloads a metric ass-ton of riffs and percussive runs that defy the law of diminishing returns. Many, if not all, of Harbinger of Woe’s tracks sound cut from the same shank of flesh, but Brodequin constantly rearrange their shared anatomy with such grotesque, mutagenic creativity that each iteration feels like a whole new kind of monster (“Diabolical Edict,” “Vredens Dag”).

In the end, this mad science of mercilessly rearranging Harbinger of Woe’s DNA makes for an unqualified success. Without requiring a wide cross-section of influences or techniques, Brodequin extracted remarkable variety from what is, in essence, a surprisingly limited toolkit. Not the result of inexperience or a lack of ideas, Brodequin’s restricted matrix feels intentional. Instead of showcasing unlimited skillsets, Brodequin pared down, perfecting each and every element to is peak form. Then, they stitched them together in the only sequence that makes sense.

Best of all, it takes no time to recognize and appreciate that level of perfectionism. For something so filthy and gritty, Harbinger of Woe is staggeringly accessible and immediate. At the same time, I never tire of it, and it only gets better with age. Simply put, Harbinger of Woe is the product of flawless execution. Don’t miss it!

Tracks to Check Out: “Diabolical Edict,” “Theresiana,” “Of Pillars and Trees,” “Maleficium”

#2024 #AmericanMetal #Brodequin #BrutalDeathMetal #DeathMetal #Deathgrind #DefeatedSanity #Disgorge #HarbingerOfWoe #Mortician #Review #Reviews #SeasonOfMist #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed2024

For #ThursDeath:

Severe Torture: The Pinnacle of Suffering

https://song.link/ccc9wn9dxbnb0

#BrutalDeathMetal #TechnicalDeathMetal

FFO #DeedsOfFlesh #Disgorge #Gorgasm

I think the English made a big mistake when they borrowed the word "disgorge" from the French.

Luckily, I'm not a lawyer, otherwise, I'd have a fit of giggles every time that word is used in court.

Mind the warning:

NOT FOR EASILY DISTURBED PEOPLE. IT IS PRETTY DISGUSTING! YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!

#English #French #disgorge #lawyer #law #court #giggles #disgusting

https://youtu.be/TQAhhjTM_e4