Wednesday, April 15, 2009

I have a preternaturally high cheese-threshold.

Some would stumble at the first over-ripe hurdle here (see above), the reeking camembert of generic Death metal hackwork that is the cover, eyes flooding with tears, hand up protectively over the mouth and nose to ward off the second tier of attack, the waftingly pungent afflatus of pompous Esolitosophy that is the title “Saurian Exorcisms.” I too gagged and blanched, despite the aforementioned P.H.C.T. but like the truly determined, non-pettifogging Metal anti-snob I am I bore the cd aloft like a great, flaming brazier moulded from Brie and Limburger, and forged forth through ye vasty plains of Music and Video Exchange with it, a wake of six month old Rockist Roquefort billowing yellowy out behind me, leaving the Untermenschen wilting in the lowlands of Rock and Pop A-Z and Dance, and, by Great Thoth’s Obsidian Ichor/ Beelzebub’s Frothing Hog-Pizzle reader, I spenteth two of your human Quids on it!


I expected it to be rubbish. It’s some bloke from Egyptologically-oriented Death Metal Pharoahs “Nile”, purveyors of “ithyphallic metal.” Who am I to argue that ithyphallic metal is a bit of a tautology in the face of their mastery of polysyllabic archaism? Verily, I cast thee out, pedant!
Point remains it’s rather brilliant, a kind of distressingly humid and clammy Fourth-Worldism, reminiscent of Hassel and Eno if they’d overdosed on Joe D’amato and Fulci instead of, oh, I dunno, Wicker’s World and Life on Earth, or something. Imagine Panda Bear tripping dizzily through the forest only to discover he’s just wandered into a circle of rotten heads on spikes.
Spit-roast Panda for supper!
Ethnic music from a non-existent country still mired in dark superstition, benighted and backward, in which the sorcerers still roam the land promising miracles and the people bend in cowed obedience, where perverse rituals and orgies of mind-melding drug use take place beneath a blazing sun.

So, England, basically. Except for the sun.**

Recomended for lovers of Grails, Savage Republic and other doomy Hyper-ethnologists. Valter’s gonna dig it, I reckon.

*The following fromage-related puns were rejected during the creation of this blogpost: For the love of gouda, edam your eyes, the charnel feta.

**Perhaps, “down Fabric” could be substituted here.


ASHDAV said...

Talking of cheese.. you know what to do

TONA said...

Coincidence. I have just dloaded this myself today and stumled onto your blog thru the person that posted the comment above.
I have to agree with you, and in every word. I enjoyed this crap enormously, i mean, there is a tune
named "Conteplate this on the Tree of Woe"....fuckin awesome. Lets see what Mr. Spleen s gotta say :)

ASHDAV said...

For what it's worth I'd rather be listening to his primary influence, i.e. Jethro Tull. That's how much I hate this shit.

Chris T said...

Great review. I've gotta check this out now.