Feb 042013

One of our number has heard The Monolith Deathcult’s new album, Tetragrammaton. Not wanting to say too much at this early stage of the ramp-up to its release, we present only this brief diagnostic analysis:

As food for the brain, The Monolith Deathcult’s new album Tetragrammaton is a well-balanced diet.

Most immediately noticeable, it includes a super-sized helping of nutrition for the cerebellum and the brain stem, those parts of the organ responsible for motor control and involuntary physical activity such as headbanging and fist-pumping. It’s loaded with industrial strength pneumatic grooves. It also includes breakdowns. We think they threw in the kitchen sink, too.

Tetragrammaton also feeds the deep limbic system, which plays a vital role in setting a person’s emotional state. The album contains moments of high drama and even darkness. It also provokes impulses of aggression, as in the desire to tear shit up. And it also tickles the funny bone.  That’s in the brain, isn’t it?  Two words: Optimus Prime.

And of course, this being The Monolith Deathcult, the album also enriches the parts of the cerebral cortex responsible for learning and serious thought, with songs based on subjects such as The Red Army Faction, the legend of Icarus, an Iraqi palace of torture under the regime of Saddam, Hutu extremists in Rwanda, human slaughter in the Iran-Iraq war, and . . . most compelling of all . . . the legend of the Transformers.

Of course, we don’t mean to imply that Tetragrammaton is necessarily healthy for your head, because it’s also saturated with venom and may cause severe concussion. You have between now and mid-May to prepare yourself, because that’s when Season of Mist will release this assault on the pillars of civilization. After that it will be too late.

Tetragrammaton will be released on May 10 (May 14 in North America, because our civilizations are pretty flimsy already).


  1. good lord i need to listen to this. Shit is gonna rule!

  2. This stuff is so hyped-up already that it will suck huge, huge moose balls. Just sayin’.

  3. Also,

    Quote from the review: “We think they threw in the kitchen sink, too.”

    Interesting you should say that. We did, and it was under direct orders of the late and great Vivian Stanshall, who commanded “For God’s sake! Throw in the kitchen sink” in his monumental epic song “Rawlinson End” from the Bonzo Dog Band’s album “Let’s Make Up And Be Friendly”.


    • All well and good, but did you tenderly take the limp tap in your hands, turning it slowly? Did you apply liberal amounts of “Ready Rub”? I truly hope so, just as I truly relish the prospect of TMDC, legs well apart, coattails thrown up in front of the fire, expounding their interminable exploits before the blaze on Tetragrammaton.

      • I came just reading that. Viv’s voice makes it too much to bear while listening.

        • I’d never heard that clip before, and It’s really fuckin’ funny — but kind of strange and unsettling at the same time.

          • You should hear the entire series of radio broadcasts and watch the movie. An absolute highlight in absurdist comedy.


            • The quotes are priceless:

              “I never met a man I didn’t mutilate.”

              “If I had all the money I’d spent on drink, I’d spend it on drink.”

              “If a thing is worth doing, it is worth forcing someone else to do it.”


              • Mail me if you want me to hook you up with some Stanshall goodies.

                If you wonder where TMDC gets its absurdist humour from, it’s a gentle mix of Monty Python, Vivian Stanshall and A Bit of Fry and Laurie (who were heavily influenced by the former two).

                “Then I want you to pop down to the village and buy me a beard, a Ping-Pong table, a can of red paint and a pickaxe. I intend to become a psychiatrist. Oh, and some drugs, a couple of sacksfull of assorted should do for the mo. ”

                “There was a face jumping competition at the Fool and Bladder. This ancient amusement involved leaping on to volunteer’s heads, lightly touching, and then springing off. To draw blood or squash a nose meant instant disqualification, and this was the skill of it. The normally phlegmatic Seth Onetooth was unquestioned champion of this unusual sport and he stood huge dark and work stained outside the old pub explaining the rules and recalling past triumphs to Reg Smeeton, the village newsagent and self-styled human encyclopaedia.”

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