Cassette Assault – Some Stuff That’s Good

Now listen, you might think I’m lazy, and I get that, but this is a one-man show currently and I have to make sure you get your money’s worth. Yes, you’re not paying for anything, but if you think about it you’re using some bandwidth or data of some sort, and that costs somebody something, so that’s like a whole penny in my direction, which I’ll just put in my little metal slime bank on my desk here. It’s filling up quickly, let me tell you sirs and madams (or however you define yourself). At any rate what this all really means is I had some real-life job things to do, in addition to fleshing out some new ideas for the future of this site. Uh no is it going away? Never, I’m just working on making it even more disturbing in order to guarantee the fan base, though now much larger than ever, is still just a bunch of weirdos. New here? Well, you’ve chosen a good starting point because this special article feature is one of my personal favorites, something we call CASSETTE ASSAULT, where I, well, assault you with cassettes I guess. Four different tapes, all plastic, coming at you, and today they all happen to actually be great listens.

Desert Crone – Distorted Solitude

No offense to Bloodsoaked Records, but it’s a damn crime this is only available on cassette. It should next be printed on vinyl, because of course that will happen, then CD because there are people who actually want to listen to it, and then floppy disc so a few of you can still feel mega-elite. Why? Because Desert Crone will rise. I didn’t think it was possible anymore to make a witch reference without it being obviously a witch reference, but look, it has been done. What a classy name, and what a classy piece of plastic. This was hand-lovingly put together in Sweden, utilizing only three tracks that’s essentially a demo, and sadly the only thing this band has released to date. Distorted Solitude is perhaps desiccated like an ancient corpse in it’s approach, but if this is mummy love, call me a lover. Desert Crone’s riff action is classic, yet sludged modern with vocals just verging on blackened. This element itself is what makes it stand out, because with the music alone I could toss out all the usual references to weed, space, and spell casting. And for that it would be rather boring, but the combination of an older, cavernous sound, with vocals placed in an entirely different era is where it gets its draw. It might feel somewhat unsettling at first for that reason, but let this one sink in and you actually might want to smoke weed unironically. Desert Crone Official Facebook Score: 4.5 / 5

o graceful musing’s burden – im draußen bricht sich das drinnen

This name caused me to look up MLA, APA, and Chicago-style formatting to make sure I was doing it right, Christ.  And, apologies to the band, because it took me forever to get to this review, even though they submitted this cassette something like a year ago.  Yes, punish me, folks, I deserve your vengeance.  But, after you throw the first punch, which I accept with any body part of your choosing, read a little further.  im draußen bricht sich das drinnen caused some confusion at first. I sampled a bit, it sounded on par with our usual angle, then I popped it in the player and it sounded too peaceful, at least for the mood I was in.  But, persistent are these Germans, and they kept sending PMs on Facebook telling me I was stupid, so I gave it a thorough listen, finally, after all these months.  I should have figured with the beautiful, and aesthetically designed box it came in that there was more to this release than I first assumed.  o graceful musing’s burden, who I’ll just call OGMB now since you all only have the mental capacity to read texts anymore, have an amazing amount of artistry.  IDBSDD (yeah, you know it) is a shoegazer gone razor-pit enthusiast, for an interesting combination. All without vocals, might I add, a feat worth the listen alone.  Further, their combination of so many genres that never confuse themselves is also quite amazing.  A ton of ground is covered here, more than I could possibly extrapolate upon in a full review, let alone this paragraph, or even a Bible.  This is one of the few bands I’d say, without a doubt, will never need a singer.  Truly a remarkable for that aspect.  o graceful musing’s burden Official Facebook  Score: 4.8 / 5Swine Infection – Culinary Ritual

What, grind? Don’t you make fun of grind around here? Usually, yeah, but this is good, and the cassette is pink. Since the world is lacking more pink cassettes I figured it would be best to review it. Released by a label so obscure it seems no one realizes they made pink pretty again without a single trigger effect, Culinary Ritual gave me a smile that I normally never give when I listen to grind, especially if it includes any element of humor. Typically, the frivolous approach goes south so quickly it creates a chasm into the earth and spins the planet off of its axis, careening the human race into its gaping mire, tormented eternally in a gravitational, looping wormhole with millions of porn and intestinal gas samples. Swine Infection, however, understand that though humor may, for some reason, still be considered proper grind aesthetic, they know how to keep it serious at the same time. Difficult to balance through an entire album, but they pull it off, for the most part. Songs like “Black Metal Forest Ham” and “Crab Ragoon [sic] Desecration” pretty much summarize the entire album without even listening, but yet there’s something to be found here. The reason’s simple, Swine Infection isn’t satisfied with mere grind as grind, they crossover. Their sense of satire is biting primarily because they so easily emulate doom, black metal, and crust with no clear separation for a force-fused conglomerate where an occasional fart noise wouldn’t annoy you. Impressive.  Swine Infection Official Facebook  Score: 4.4 / 5Vomit Breath – Confessions of a Necrophiliac Priest

I just realized this particular selection, if presented in alphabetical order, is something like a symphony. It begins with the wind section hook, builds with strings, strikes up a timpani crescendo, and then descends into madness. Actually, no, that doesn’t make any sense. I’ve always attempted to tie in classical music for analogy, but it never works. The excuse this time is I was trying to figure out if there was a point to ending this particular cassette feature on such a foul note. NoVisible Scars is my street corner tape dealer, and this one was pleasing to the senses in the most molesting of ways. Everything about Vomit Breath is degraded. Their name brings to mind many a failed date-night ending. The album recalls centuries of abuse at the hands of the Church, adds some corpse, and then scribbles that all out with a sharpie on a piece of construction paper and calls it an album cover. If you don’t remember the tape-trading days in the 80s when death metal always sounded like trash, or weren’t born yet, well, this is your time machine, and you can pretend you’re as old as the rest of us. Confessions of a Necrophiliac Priest isn’t doing anything new, so don’t be fooled. It’s old as hell, no, even older. This is the darkness before the light before even God woke up. It’s so absolutely hideous and total garbage you can never listen to it digitally, it must be listened to on cassette through an old player with the volume knob broken. Sometimes this kind of music can tire itself out after a few tracks, but Vomit Breath was smart enough to keep their tracks to under two minutes each, which means all your orifices are devirginized before you realize it, and you’re kind of glad you got it out of the way so quickly. Looking to symbolically dumpster dive with your music?  Well, here it is. Honestly I would have probably scored it lower if it was on any other format besides cassette. That, or they happened to catch me in a good mood when I listened to it.  Vomit Breath Official Facebook  Score: 4.1 / 5

 

Written by Stanley Stepanic