Corrosion of Conformity
Technocracy

THE REVIEW

A desire for heaviness, a desire to properly "soil" the homepage.

Few bands can rival the Corrosion of the 1980s; the most damnably incisive and furious period of the band originally from North Carolina.

I search the internet for some forgotten news regarding Technocracy...and I read a piece of news that paralyzed me.

"Reed, It’s with heavy hearts that we say goodbye to a friend, a brother and pioneer. Love and condolences to the family, friends and fans who will miss you and thanks for the music".

Reed Mullin, the band's historic drummer, passed away in January at 53 years old.

I knew nothing about it; and it's already extremely hard for me to continue, to proceed with the review.

Without any rhetoric, I can affirm that we have lost one of the greatest drummers of the Hardcore-Punk-Sludge-Metal genre.

He had an angelic face in his youth; capable, with his powerful and obsessive drumming, of giving further energy to a bewildering and destabilizing sound wall. Corrosion were among the first to realize it was possible to fuse the dramatic physicality of Hardcore with the outrageous intensity of Metal. An approach that set a precedent and was later developed in many other directions by hundreds of bands.

Absolute pioneers, like Suicidal Tendencies and Agnostic Front.

At this point, I try to jot down two harsh lines about the EP released in 1987.

A ferocious and brief, 5-song act lasting only 13 minutes, an indictment against the American society of the time, against a rampant corruption of a political system destined to fail...at least that's what the then young angry and proud guys of their caustic proclamations hoped.

The title track is placed to open the work. A restrained intro of a few seconds; then pandemonium. The auditory assault begins, thanks to the shift in gear that Reed executes on the drums, launching his companions in a Hardcore gallop that works the sides and demolishes. Lacerating solos of the six strings, an atomic bass that pulses and compacts the sound. A torn, tight voice, typical of the genre...and we're already at the end.

Hungry Child ends after a minute and a few seconds; another laceration from an infernal pit, more furious rounds of all instruments. More screams, more overflowing speed. The painful Crawling settles on less agitated, much more controlled timings; it's the broken sound of Reed that acts as a precise beacon, a guide for his colleagues; over-the-top and monolithic heaviness.

The absurd and irreverent mockery of Ahh Blugh (Milking the Sick Farce) concludes this demonstration of magnetic and tribal strength.

With the advent of the nineties, Corrosion of Conformity lost their social imprint and Hardcore rawness; Southern-Sabbathian-Stoner influences enter the sound in exaggerated doses; they become protagonists of a series of albums that I would score at the top mark.

It's only right to dedicate this writing to the friend in Music Reed...ALBATROSS...

Diabolos Rising 666.