#brodequin — 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

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

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

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

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

Carnivore Diprosopus – Rise of the Insurrection Review

By Kenstrosity

Ah, brutal death metal. A singularly punishing corner of the extreme metalverse, brutal death commands your every orifice for consumption and then ruination. Or sometimes the other way around. Brutal death metal isn’t picky. Neither am I. Despite my cuddly, terminally delightful disposition in real life, I love this stuff for its cave-brained approach to extreme music, its penchant for irresistible groove unmatched by other styles, and its promise of outlandish compositional WIOLENCE. These are the things Colombian/Spanish brutal death quintet Carnivore Diprosopus pledge with fourth onslaught Rise of the Insurrection.

Beginning life in 2002, Carnivore Diprosopus wrote about what every early 2000s brutal band wrote about: shocking acts of violence, generalized perversion, and lots of gore. The usual suspects. With their third installment, Condemned by the Alliance, however, Carnivore Diprosopus shifted gears slightly. Still integrating the expected extremities, Condemned by the Alliance and now Rise of the Insurrection feel more conceptual and story-driven, detailing what appears to be tales of fictional great wars involving much invasion, destruction, death, and what I’m sure would be considered outright violations of the Geneva Convention. Using compositional blueprints spearheaded by acts like Brodequin, Devourment, and Pathology, Carnivore Diprosopus’ fourth salvo carries their recounts on the backs of crushing riffs, pummeling rhythms and blasts, and subterranean gurgles—just the way I expect and desire to hear it. Bonus points to the band for an unexpectedly rich, warm, and roomy production that proves once and for all that music like this can easily beat me to a pulp without disrespectful compression or excessive loudness.

Rise of the Insurrection is a quintessential example of “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” The riffs contained in city-leveling monstrosities like “Begin Redemption,” “Dhamaneon,” album highlight “The Onslaught—Cyborg Tank Division,” “Khristov’s Seventh Eagle Legion,” and “Psycho Mincer Assault Corps” sound suspiciously like a million other band’s best—albeit with a bit more focus on infectious groove than single-minded destruction. For me, none of that is a bad thing. A touch of slam in many of Carnivore Diprosopus’ rhythmic patterns and a tasteful reliance on tightly grouped triplets helps reinforce that sense of swagger to great effect as well, making this album extremely dangerous for my neck (“The Battle of Saicasm (Ariel Predator)”). At a shredded thirty-one minutes, Rise of the Insurrection flies by in a flash, making revisits an effortless and thoroughly rewarding affair. With each new spin, I discover little moments throughout that give any given song another point of interest to keep me invested (notably, the fun cymbal clinks that most densely populate the album midsection).

It’s difficult to offer more than nitpicks when critiquing Rise of the Insurrection, but those nitpicks add up quickly. For Carnivore Diprosopus, my biggest nitpick is the complete lack of originality or novelty in their songwriting. This record in particular borrows an array of notes from Unbirth’s Fleshformed Columns of Deceit and Brodequin’s discography at large. That’s great company to keep, but I worry that Carnivore Diprosopus play too close to their influences here, which could deter fans from checking them out as easily as it might initially attract them. An additional side effect of this condition, many of Rise of the Insurrection’s less immediate moments fall victim to the void almost instantly after passing (the second half of “Dhamaneon,” for example), calling the record’s overall memorability into question. In other areas, Carnivore Diprosopus deserve credit for their unusually roomy production. Warm and rich guitar and vocal tones, combined with what feels like acres of space on the soundstage, provide every element plenty of room to play and interact with each other, affording the record an organic sense of dynamics. However, the snare sometimes feels wooden and a little sharp for this style, negatively impacting measures involving intense blast beats the most. Crash and ride cymbals similarly lack body in spots, evoking a somewhat glassy quality that can make rapid-fire strikes and extended washes occasionally unpleasant.

While I found a variety of little opportunities for improvement, Rise of the Insurrection is as rock-solid a record as they come. Endless cavalcades of killer riffs, brutal grooves, and slammy swagger guarantee a great time and ensure that repeat investment garners considerable returns in enjoyment. Carnivore Diprosopus may not be the most innovative name in the game, but brutal death metal doesn’t need innovation to be fun and engaging. Rise of the Insurrection is, if nothing else, proof positive of that fact.

Rating: Good!
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Comatose Music
Website: facebook.com/CarnivoreDiprosopus
Releases Worldwide: August 9th, 2024

#2024 #30 #Aug24 #Brodequin #BrutalDeathMetal #CarnivoreDiprosopus #ColombianMetal #ComatoseMusic #DeathMetal #Devourment #Pathology #Review #Reviews #RiseOfTheInsurrection #Slam #SpanishMetal #Unbirth

Carnivore Diprosopus – Rise of the Insurrection Review

By Kenstrosity

Ah, brutal death metal. A singularly punishing corner of the extreme metalverse, brutal death commands your every orifice for consumption and then ruination. Or sometimes the other way around. Brutal death metal isn’t picky. Neither am I. Despite my cuddly, terminally delightful disposition in real life, I love this stuff for its cave-brained approach to extreme music, its penchant for irresistible groove unmatched by other styles, and its promise of outlandish compositional WIOLENCE. These are the things Colombian/Spanish brutal death quintet Carnivore Diprosopus pledge with fourth onslaught Rise of the Insurrection.

Beginning life in 2002, Carnivore Diprosopus wrote about what every early 2000s brutal band wrote about: shocking acts of violence, generalized perversion, and lots of gore. The usual suspects. With their third installment, Condemned by the Alliance, however, Carnivore Diprosopus shifted gears slightly. Still integrating the expected extremities, Condemned by the Alliance and now Rise of the Insurrection feel more conceptual and story-driven, detailing what appears to be tales of fictional great wars involving much invasion, destruction, death, and what I’m sure would be considered outright violations of the Geneva Convention. Using compositional blueprints spearheaded by acts like Brodequin, Devourment, and Pathology, Carnivore Diprosopus’ fourth salvo carries their recounts on the backs of crushing riffs, pummeling rhythms and blasts, and subterranean gurgles—just the way I expect and desire to hear it. Bonus points to the band for an unexpectedly rich, warm, and roomy production that proves once and for all that music like this can easily beat me to a pulp without disrespectful compression or excessive loudness.

Rise of the Insurrection is a quintessential example of “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” The riffs contained in city-leveling monstrosities like “Begin Redemption,” “Dhamaneon,” album highlight “The Onslaught—Cyborg Tank Division,” “Khristov’s Seventh Eagle Legion,” and “Psycho Mincer Assault Corps” sound suspiciously like a million other band’s best—albeit with a bit more focus on infectious groove than single-minded destruction. For me, none of that is a bad thing. A touch of slam in many of Carnivore Diprosopus’ rhythmic patterns and a tasteful reliance on tightly grouped triplets helps reinforce that sense of swagger to great effect as well, making this album extremely dangerous for my neck (“The Battle of Saicasm (Ariel Predator)”). At a shredded thirty-one minutes, Rise of the Insurrection flies by in a flash, making revisits an effortless and thoroughly rewarding affair. With each new spin, I discover little moments throughout that give any given song another point of interest to keep me invested (notably, the fun cymbal clinks that most densely populate the album midsection).

It’s difficult to offer more than nitpicks when critiquing Rise of the Insurrection, but those nitpicks add up quickly. For Carnivore Diprosopus, my biggest nitpick is the complete lack of originality or novelty in their songwriting. This record in particular borrows an array of notes from Unbirth’s Fleshformed Columns of Deceit and Brodequin’s discography at large. That’s great company to keep, but I worry that Carnivore Diprosopus play too close to their influences here, which could deter fans from checking them out as easily as it might initially attract them. An additional side effect of this condition, many of Rise of the Insurrection’s less immediate moments fall victim to the void almost instantly after passing (the second half of “Dhamaneon,” for example), calling the record’s overall memorability into question. In other areas, Carnivore Diprosopus deserve credit for their unusually roomy production. Warm and rich guitar and vocal tones, combined with what feels like acres of space on the soundstage, provide every element plenty of room to play and interact with each other, affording the record an organic sense of dynamics. However, the snare sometimes feels wooden and a little sharp for this style, negatively impacting measures involving intense blast beats the most. Crash and ride cymbals similarly lack body in spots, evoking a somewhat glassy quality that can make rapid-fire strikes and extended washes occasionally unpleasant.

While I found a variety of little opportunities for improvement, Rise of the Insurrection is as rock-solid a record as they come. Endless cavalcades of killer riffs, brutal grooves, and slammy swagger guarantee a great time and ensure that repeat investment garners considerable returns in enjoyment. Carnivore Diprosopus may not be the most innovative name in the game, but brutal death metal doesn’t need innovation to be fun and engaging. Rise of the Insurrection is, if nothing else, proof positive of that fact.

Rating: Good!
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Comatose Music
Website: facebook.com/CarnivoreDiprosopus
Releases Worldwide: August 9th, 2024

#2024 #30 #Aug24 #Brodequin #BrutalDeathMetal #CarnivoreDiprosopus #ColombianMetal #ComatoseMusic #DeathMetal #Devourment #Pathology #Review #Reviews #RiseOfTheInsurrection #Slam #SpanishMetal #Unbirth