#analepsy — Public Fediverse posts

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

Putridity – Morbid Ataraxia Review

By Alekhines Gun

Formed in the early 2000s, Putridity are an Italian brutal death band. With roots as a solo project by a former member of Obscene Perversion, the outfit grew from a one-man-basement dream into a fully fledged lineup of slowly increasing reputation from infrequent release to release. A decade has passed since the previous full-length Ignominious Atonement, though the recently released Greedy Gory Gluttony EP finds the band with a refreshed but stable lineup and an enhanced taste for lethality. With last year being a stunning time for brutal death of all shapes and sizes, and this year already facing challenges from young bands and veterans alike, do these brutal statesmen have an argument for a place at the top of the beatings heap?

Morbid Ataraxia puts a lot of stock in its hefty production. A spacious tonal palate allows the nonstop battering-ram drumming of Cédric Malebolgia to erupt from underneath the riffs, with heavy emphasis put on snare violation and rapid-fire cymbal interplay. Vocalist Andrea Piro features a fierce guttural that channels the spirit of vintage Analepsy, human and caustic without deteriorating into pure trash compactor indecipherability. The tones of founder Putrid Ciccio and Manuel Lucchini unfortunately drown out bassist Giancarlo Mendo but make up for it in raw punch, straddling a perfect line between just enough treble for progressions to be heard and enough bottom end to sound like driving cement mixers. For an album that hinges on breakneck speed and more blasts than a military training ground, this breadth of clarity allows each savage moment to be present and accounted for with extreme prejudice to the listener.

At its best, Morbid Ataraxia is a precise and clinical display of the “never-ending cyclone of riffs” class of brutal death. Title track “Morbid Ataraxia” features a devastatingly foul plod of a chug while drums erupt with boiling rage underneath. “Overflowing Mortal Smell” manages to make a shuddering groove out of rarely placed halftime (for the tempo) riffage. Add more pinch harmonic-based phrasing than I can count, and time signature changes from measure to measure, and you have a recipe for a dose of relentless assault from cover to cover. The entire album is connected via samples, which range from ambient vocal gurgling and a (possibly unintentional) throwback to a vintage Skinless cut to the far more unsettling. The unexpectedly ambient ebb and flow of the album, with the samples bisecting various tracks and the constant gargling throughout the empty spaces lends Morbid Ataraxia a proper LP vibe, meant to be consumed in one sitting from beginning to end.

However, the worst thing about Morbid Ataraxia is that it’s a precise and clinical display of the “never-ending cyclone of riffs” class of brutal death. An excessive overreliance on pinch harmonics and monochrome snare abuse give the first half of the album a monotonous feeling, where each track feels like it could be substituted into another slot without impacting much of the album’s flow. Putridity traffic heavily in a vintage Deeds of Flesh approach to riff-craft, with moment to moment flowing into itself with little thought of hooks or repetition or accessibility. That’s fine, to a point; certainly big anthemic choruses aren’t what we are here for. But depending entirely on an “everything and the kitchen sink” approach to song craft means you need your individual riffs to actually pack a punch beyond their tone, and here is where the album falls flat. Two songs in, you will have heard every bag of tricks Putridity has to offer; not just the harmonics but limited drum styling, minimal lead flourishes, and speedy grinding chord progressions, all of which are quite lethal in their immediacy but ineffective in retaining attention ’til the back half of the album.

Putridity is a good band, and Morbid Ataraxia is a fine album, but the few highs it has presented have left me wanting more. The production is a delight, and individual performances are certainly top-notch. However, the band fails in overcoming brutal death’s greatest hurdle, which is to be perpetually interesting and not just obscenely heavy. The approach of stitching all the tracks together implies a concept of some sort, and I’d like to see them continue this approach in the future, but with widened wings in the composition department. For now, if you’re still chasing the brutality dragon, Putridity have you covered; just consider the artwork and don’t ask what you’re covered in.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Willowtip Records
Websites: Album Bandcamp | Official Instagram
Releases Worldwide: June 27th, 2025

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