Hypnos
Rabble Manifesto

The Hypnos are nothing more than just another group of followers of a strand of Death, specifically the newly emerged Eastern European scene; they hail from the Czech Republic, a homeland of numerous extreme metal bands.

Their musical offering is somewhat unusual even though, to be honest, it somewhat too prominently takes after the sound of their compatriots 'Rabaroth' (a band with which they continuously exchange members) and the Floridian tradition. I have to say, I was quite captivated by the appearance, convincing myself that the group played music in line with their name, unfathomable and mysterious.

After an initial listen that left me more than satisfied, flaws started to emerge that led me to dismiss the CD with such a mediocre judgment. There are good ideas, but they are vastly outnumbered by clichés and boring parts, unfortunately quite abundant; it's noteworthy that this is their third Full Length, so they are not debutants. The technique is present, although it doesn't shine in a genre based on precision like this: all members demonstrate a good knowledge of their instrument, there is no doubt about that, but there are no thrilling passages that make a work attractive even from a strictly musical perspective. In short, although far from sounding bad, Hypnos deliver a performance that, compared to other "colleagues", is merely decent: the drummer offers an orthodox performance that gives little to the listener, and the other members follow along without offering pleasant oddities.

A structure formed by usual blast beats and, more generally, by an overly linear drumming intertwines with sometimes astonishing but mostly quite monotonous scores: those who love virtuosity will not find much inspiration from this point of view, but it must also be said that there are not only defects to be found. From a compositional standpoint, in fact, they display good intuition, and among the mass of useless riffs, others stand out for their beauty and eccentricity. This is the case with the opener "Drowned In Burial Mud" (if you know English, you can immediately grasp the artistic level of the text), with an absolutely devastating and oppressive intro: unfortunately, however, the song also lends itself to being elevated as a symbol of everything else (a part for the whole, a deductive process, in short).
And indeed, after such an effective (antziquenon) beginning, the song declines and for the remaining three minutes plus, it borders on low average levels: the riffing is old-fashioned and even the structure, although intricate and not patched up, shows that the principle of imitation is still the path most trodden by them in the studio.

Other noteworthy episodes are the closing "At Death's Door" and "Krieg (The Alpha Paradox)", of which perhaps the best is the former (even equipped with a piano intro and a solo not quite like those of any Thrash icons). The vocalist shows a (fake) skill that resolves in switching between decent screams, good growling, and poor clean vocals. The sporadic use of keyboards, which makes the atmosphere a little more tense and less "flabby," is decent, though.
Another element that is quite bothersome is the sad realization that three of the eleven tracks are a type of Intro that most certainly serve the 'Hypnos' more (I am convinced it's a device to lengthen the tracklist) than the listener. It seems that these Czechs have taken all the Deicide and Testament albums and some other seminal Death group to then more or less exactly reproduce the same things, adding a few worthy riffs here and there.

Of course, the fact that today I am in a foul mood (a very foul mood) does not help them (in the sense that maybe they could have scraped a point higher), yet the album is certainly not of high quality: the good ideas are absolutely wasted and overshadowed by the number of disappointing episodes. There are still some moments, alas beautiful as they are fleeting, that give the idea of being in front of a great work, recreating very evocative atmospheres. But the wonder, similar to Montale’s "prodigy," ends quickly, and the irritated buyer finds themselves with an album that they’ll listen to for a second time who knows when. An extremely professional production is of no use if the musicians prove adept only at tapping into the discography of the "sacred monster" of the moment.

However, it's likely that my judgment is excessively harsh since I realized the work's flaws too late, which left me quite bitter: there are some nice riffs, so I recommend a preliminary listen.