(Grant Skelton reviews the new album by the resurrected Brutality.)
Is it just me, or do you ever feel like you enjoy your metal in absentia? The best tours never pass through your city (and perhaps not even your state). Or you discover a new band only to find out they play just 30 shows a year and you’d have to cross an ocean to catch them live. Indeed, the worst possibility is hearing an album, buying said album, then heading over to Encyclopaedia Metallum to get more information on the band. Then, your eyes widen. Your mouth is agape with terror as you behold the 2 most foreboding words in all of metaldom…”split up.”
This was me when I discovered Brutality in recent years. Along with my zeal for the Bay Area thrash scene of the early ’80s, I’ve made no attempt to hide my similar interest in ’90s Florida death. The digital age affords us the capability to hear music from previous aeons of metal history. We can watch interviews and concerts (in all their archaic VHS glory). For some obscene amount of money, we might even find a so-rare-it’s-still-throbbing copy of a band’s demo cassette on eBay. But none of that can replace being part of a scene. Buying CDs and tapes, handing out show flyers. Actually witnessing local bands play for dirt cheap (or nothing at all) just so that they can get their music heard.