What a mess.
Stir fry Black Metal awaits those who wish to immerse themselves in “Vice,” a rabid collection of chaotic clout that flicks the finger to anything involving finery. Basically the recipe here is to slice off the unpalatable parts of various already odious genres and chuck the ingredients into a wok filled with hot oil and then toss the sizzling constituents about until they're thoroughly blackened around the edges. Will it tickle your tastebuds?
This may well induce projectile vomiting from anyone who lacks an iron listening constitution, rawer than a barnacles butt, these tracks flow like a city sewer after a flash flood, all drowning rats amongst the frothing filth. It's nasty then, and unrelenting, BLACK PESTILENCE is happy to force feed you this unsavoury mix of mayhem and mire, the only let ups being brief respites whose primary purpose is to allow a mockery of those who are straining to escape this churning shit pit. Seemingly distilled from the dregs of an unstable mind, “Vice” careens along spitting bile and spreading the disease, never mind swine flu, this will have your surrounded by blokes in CBRN suits in no time, instant quarantine.
Whilst “Vice” is caked in crud and you need a wire brush and plenty of elbow grease to scrub it away, there is reward in doing so. Once you've beaten the foul and flaky you are treated to stabs of laser light streaming through, it's a bit like the Asteroids game, bursts of blinding lead riffs sending the chunks of heavy rhythm spinning off on a dance of their own. So there's a battle between the dark and the bright raging here, the result being a pummelling and a piercing all in one, a deluge of disorder as BLACK PESTILENCE's single entity steers this slavering beast through Black Metal's noisiest neighbourhood, probably walking the same streets previously despoiled by the likes of BALTAK.
Along with the acid-injected-into-eyeball guitar, the other instruments take similar pleasure in dropping bricks from a great height, the bass adopts a pugnacious Punky attitude, poking you in the chest and offering you outside at every turn, that said there a moments when the bass is left to its own devices and that often means a more mellow approach. Predominantly though, it makes merry with the massacre along with the programmed drums, which spend an inordinate amount of time set to blast, wave goodbye to any pictures on the wall, along with that donkey figurine your Gran left you on the mantlepiece. The fact that the drums are programmed actually works on “Vice”, there's no attempt to disguise the fact and the machinistic (yet slightly muffled) quality serves to add another aspect to the shambolic slaughter purveyed throughout.
Amongst the barrage, there are hooks aplenty, they may well rip your guts out but at least you'll be smiling when they do, you won't have a problem with earwax either once the scouring lead riffs start laying waste to your lugs. It should come as no surprise then to be told that the vocals are bestial snarls, the product of a union between wolf and human who has spent most of their life locked in a cellar with nothing but rats for company. Hmmm, rat. Suffice to say that the unhinged delivery garners the thought that when this madmen comes out at night, it's time for everyone else to come in. For those of you that like your music to sound like a petrol tanker crashing into an inner city riot in full fling, look no further.
What a mess. What a glorious fucking mess.
(Online July 5, 2009)