Godflesh
Pure

I have long wanted to delve into the Godflesh creation molded by Justin Broadrick; shamefully almost completely ignored on the site. After contributing to the birth of Grindcore and playing on "Scum," the debut of Napalm Death, the then-young Justin left the band and formed Godflesh together with his friend G. C. Green. "Pure" is the title of their second full-length work released in 1992 and published by "Earache Records": an album that has nothing "Pure" about it; rather, it ventures into musical territories of weightiness that knows no bounds.

A gray cover immediately introduces us to the murky and industrial sound created by the duo; a dying hand covered in earth or something else tries to surface, emerging from the cold ground that holds it. On the back, a ghostly image serves as a backdrop to the titles of the eight tracks that compose this true sonic monument: in my opinion, their best work.

The mirror-like "Spite" and "Mothra" open the album in a deadly way: a synthetic drum machine repeated endlessly serves as the backdrop to the combined work of guitar and bass, creating a deafening, mantra-like sonic wall of mammoth proportions. Justin's semi-growl vocals, always entirely comprehensible, only amplify this sense of oppression that looms over the entire work.

Only nine minutes have passed, and you're already out of breath; but you must resist and move forward; you reach the title track which marks the beginning of side B of my vinyl (now almost completely worn out). The guitar sound becomes even heavier, more tormented, with that industrial bass that significantly contributes to making the listening experience something apocalyptic and disturbing; in some moments of the song, I hear something that reminds me very closely of Helmet, authors in the same year of "Meantime," an authentic cornerstone of Hardcore-Noise (Page Hamilton Santo subito).

The interminable nine minutes of "Monotremata" ultimately submerge you: a morbid and funereal march, this time marked by the leader's clean voice. Everything is once again repeated cyclically, until the exhausting and cathartic finale that once again confirms to me the importance and greatness of "Godflesh."

Approach, or rather stay away...DON'T BRING ME FLOWERS...

Ad Maiora.