Khanate
Capture & Release

Regardless of what your current musical tastes might be, I warmly recommend that you give your kind attention to this (or any...) album by Khanate, just to challenge the very concept you necessarily have of music and every latent and visceral aspect of it... an operation that is indeed uncommon for anyone who, unlike me, enjoys indulging in their own convictions or prejudices.
Don't worry guys, the first time I had the second album of these nice guys ("Things Viral") in my hands (about 2 years ago), I wasn't that fascinated by it... in fact, I'll say more, I didn't understand why... how can you, I thought, listen to and, even worse, play this stuff????!!
The rejection was automatic after a few minutes... so the aforementioned disc was thrown by me into a shelf along with all the others... I would regret it bitterly shortly thereafter.

But let's proceed calmly... for all you laymen, know that Khanate is yet another brainchild of the 4 serial killers, + more than recidivists and already well-known to justice: the mad serial killer Stephen O'Malley, responsible for the burnings of Burning Witch and the massacres of SunnO))); the mad scientist James Plotkin, for years affected by the terrifying Old syndrome, like his schizophrenic and chlorotic assistant Alan Dubin; rounding out the roster is the feared human skin flayer Tim Wyskida, affiliated with the terrorist group Blind Idiot God.
The atrocities committed by the 4 in this case are nothing short of alarming: attack on public safety (of our auditory system), attempted massacre (of brain cells), excess of slowness (musical-about 6 beats on average between one riff and the other), possession of highly dangerous, harmful and terribly explosive materials (their warheads), continued rapes (of dozens and dozens of Les Paul guitars and just as many amps), as well as perjury (towards all musical reality), slander, assault, ideological falsehood, and dealing (unconventional, deviant, and perverse musical materials).
This is a document, which includes the 2 objectives this dangerous criminal gang had already achieved before being handed over to the authorities, found in large quantities, in the squalid hovel where they were hiding, in compact disc format and in much more limited quantities, in the form of worn-out vinyls.

- CAPTURE: who says I can't have? ... this warning is followed by distressing, ultralow, and annoyingly scratching sounds, in their slow progressing.
Those who have already followed the "Things Viral" story, especially track 4 - "Too Close Enough To Touch" - will immediately feel in medias res... it almost seems to start right where the previous atrocities were paralyzed and consumed. That dog O'Malley plays vibrating blows that leave you breathless, with rotten stops, to the point that it seems to feel the blood stiffen and rot, while Dubin's voice is, as usual, at the peak of an interior carcinogenesis!!
At about 12 and a half minutes, one witnesses a terrifying, albeit brief, subharmonic mantra, then returns cyclically to the disturbing redundancy already experienced at the beginning...
- RELEASE: do not expect any mercy... it's cold when I touch you... the walls are all splattered with blood, the floor covered with bits that could once be called a human body; the O'Malley metronome is always lurking, counting the seconds, dilated in a glimmer of infinity, pounding flesh with deep and lacerating cuts... Plotkin always seems external to the issue, but this is an illusion that one pays dearly for, with their life, or worse, reduced to a state of perpetual catalepsy... there is almost a search for perfect stasis, the hope of eventually watching, at night, the explosion of a dark star, the instinct to condense as much physicality into some disconnected sound... until the 20th minute of barbarity, when everything implodes (I enjoy it!!!) !!!

A brief description can be crystallized in this formula: dimensional, extended surrealist riff-form!