Cannibal Corpse
Tomb Of The Mutilated

THE REVIEW

(Any reference to things and/or people is purely coincidental. Enjoy your reading)
The “truzzi.”
The everyday enemies, those who pay four or five times the price of my entire outfit just for their shoes (let's do the math for a moment… I dress in…mmh let's see, €25 for shoes…€10 for jeans…barely €15 for the sweatshirt or €9 for the metal t-shirt…€5 for the Morbid Angel cap… 25+10+15+5=€45… Considering that around here the price of a pair of those branded shoes that only you know is around €225/250, I would say we're spot on), ah yes let's continue, as I was saying, the “truzzi,” those who think they are so tough and always try to pick fights with me or with any object (even a radiator will do the purpose), running away and screaming like sissies and calling for their mommy as soon as I (or the radiator) raise a fist…
Ah, the “truzzi.”
In addition to the fundamental farts, burps, and the highly effective growls, from America comes today, directly to your home, the ultimate, most effective, and economic defense system against the “truzzi!”
This is not an infomercial for losing weight (and I desperately need it… sigh), but a demonstration of how effective the masterpiece by Cannibal Corpse can be against the futility of these people.
No anti-aggression pepper spray, no other masterpieces, masterworks, magnificent, exciting, acid-stimulating, and rapturous Tunz music records so detested, no, none of this: simply the record that every metalhead dreams of being able to put in a 100,000 Watt stereo and then blast full volume straight into the ears of the sleeping “truzzo/ne” tormented by dreams of burning nightclubs.
Besides being, in my opinion, the heaviest and most significant work by Cannibal Corpse, a band-earthquake that at the end of the '80s officially started the Brutal Death Metal genre along with “cousins” Suffocation with their respective debuts “Eaten Back To Life” and “Effigy Of The Forgotten,” the album is a napalm bomb, which progresses unstoppably, overwhelms, devastates, destroys without leaving anything behind, and disappears with the same speed it arrived.
Published in the golden age of Death Metal, which is in the year of Misfortune 1992 (it is worth saying that the masterpieces seen in the years from 1991 to 1993 are very scarcely repeated), the album contains some of the best tracks ever composed by the five American cannibals who would struggle a lot to be repeated at the same quality level, also marking (and this is very important in the Brutal realm) the astonishing technical and compositional improvement of the band, now at unimaginable technical levels especially regarding the rhythm section (Alex Webster rulez!).
But let's proceed to the listening: have you got your Extra Bass Boost headphones? Did you turn on the stereo and insert the CD into the appropriate player? Yes? Are you ready? Let's start the dance then!
If you are expecting a threatening or melodic intro or an acoustic or electric but relaxed part, then you can calmly change the record and expect no sympathy from Cannibal.
Indeed, it might be considered surprising the beginning of “Hammer Smashed Face,” perhaps the song with which the definition of Cannibal Corpse is given. Great, great, great, exuding violence from every pore: Chris Barnes hammers us with his cavernous voice while each member gives an exemplary performance. Not surprisingly, in fact, the song is still considered the culmination of the Live performances, where it is punctually proposed.
We continue with another masterpiece, “I Cum Blood,” which sees an excellent Chris Barnes struggling with the strong and deadly hormonal dysfunctions of his reproductive system suddenly gone mad and ejaculating blood instead of sperm. “Addicted To Vaginal Skin,” the third track, which from the title already explains why Chris struggles to find a girl, presents a brief initial mid-tempo and then deals with authentic shovelfuls full in the face. These first three songs, we could say, form a single block where violence, brutality, endless splatter, and excellent technique merge as best as possible.
Another six masterpieces follow, which would need much more space to be described than that available. “Split Wide Open,” “Necropedophile,” “Post Mortal Ejaculation,” and “Beyond The Cemetery” are the best ones.
The masterpiece of Cannibal, and one of the best Brutal albums ever composed, in my opinion: one of the CDs that should proudly appear in the metal discography of every self-respecting deathster. And if you love slower and more thoughtful things, there is always Pop…