(Andy Synn reviews the new album by Narcotic Death from Wakefield, England.)
Are you looking for your daily dose of brutality, the sort that hits hard, cuts deep, and leaves a lasting impression? Then allow me to introduce you to Narcotic Death.
Back in April the band released their second album, Dies Irae, a gloriously nasty little death/black hybrid of Suffocation-style brutality, Dismember-ish aggression, and pulsating, Mayhem-esque evil.
The bludgeoning guitars have a thick and ugly tone, rough and rancorous and yet brutally clear, all buzz-saw teeth and sick, diseased chords. The drums cut through the filth and fury with almost reckless abandon, producing a bone-rattling racket that’s both pleasingly organic to listen to, and perversely intoxicating to experience.
The grimy, cancerous vocals add the icing to this poisonous cake, delivering their misanthropic magic in a repellent snarl that at times descends into a cavernous growl, before rising to a savage, sulphurous shriek.