Morbid Angel
Gateways to Annihilation

Morbid Angel are a part of the History of Death Metal, yet they seem to be condemned to remain there. Snubbed by the very young, their fame will always be associated with titles like "Altars of Madness" and "Blessed are the Sick", yet Trey Azagthoth's creation has continued over time to churn out truly above-average works, unfortunately not always adequately appreciated. The departure of the historic vocalist David Vincent and the subsequent replacement with the much more anonymous Steve Tucker has definitely dampened enthusiasm, but in my opinion, precisely because we are faced with anything but a run-of-the-mill band (and the Death Metal scene is full of them), it is necessary to make a greater effort to understand that Morbid Angel are still here and still have a lot to say.

"Gateways to Annihilation" is not only the best chapter of the Tucker era, but it presents us with a band deeply convinced and inspired: this work combines the experiments that characterized "Domination" (thanks also to the re-inclusion of Erik Rutan, who played guitar on that album) with the morbid visions of that thick paste of deflected and irrational Death Metal that was the previous "Formulas Fatal to the Flesh." Many will not agree with me, but I liked "FFF" a lot, and this "Gateways..." is its natural continuation.

What does it mean, after all, to play Death Metal? Classic Death Metal is not a genre that offers infinite possibilities, and often the challenge is to technically progress to find new expressive solutions within the narrow canon the genre imposes. I must say that among the bands that have remained undeniably faithful to the dictates of the genre, Morbid Angel are among those who have most been able to combine variety and preservation of their identity, creating very diversified works, but always shining with a recognizable trademark from miles away. And this, folks, comes down to talent and creativity.

Maybe I just like Morbid Angel a lot, but when I hear Pete Sandoval's deadly drumming, I think of an artist expressing their emotions (albeit mediated by the brutal language of Death Metal); and if I come across the twisted rhythms and Trey Azagthoth's perverted solos, I truly think of a sort of Mozart who, instead of a piano, found himself with an electric guitar. Morbid Angel do not play Death Metal because they adhere to the genre's stylistic elements; Morbid Angel play themselves, and as a self-referential entity continue their run towards annihilation without anything around them affecting their artistic vision. And allow me a brief digression: Chuck Shuldiner of Death, at the end of his career, ended up moving away from classic Death Metal, which he himself helped forge; the last Death album "Sounds of Perseverance" is an album that can only be defined as "shuldinerian music," the result of a talent that has managed to grow not through contamination, but through the elaboration and development of its own art. Morbid Angel, who are not Death, have nonetheless undertaken a path in some ways analogous, and if the shuldinerian material has become something indefinable, the material produced by Morbid Angel, although still undoubtedly categorizable as Death Metal, is, before being Death Metal, art by Morbid Angel.

With "Gateways..." Our Own return to their most compact, massive and heavy, version, and wherever they move, rest assured they will sweep clean. The tempos slow down, at times flirting with the most claustrophobic doom, but it's the relentless double kick of Sandoval that aligns the sinuous progression of the compositions. Compositions that are freed from simple and linear structures, and which, developing the path taken with the previous "FFF," assume progressive shades (an adjective to handle with care), but devastating in every nuance. The opener "Summoning Redemption" is the emblem of the Morbid Angel branded 2000: seven minutes of rock-solid rhythms and cadenced tempos. A perfect sound (except for the drums, a bit too synthetic), a flood of molten lead in our ears. Tucker, at the top of his form (his growl solid, determined, and powerful, less thick and undefined than in the past), wanders titanically like a destructive giant, slobbering decadent images and terrible threats, laboriously floundering in muddy and putrescent swamps. The hallucinatory solos, often long and distorted by effects, complete the picture. Azagthoth's guitar technique further progresses, reaching new levels of excellence. Less intricate and chaotic than in the past, the guitar work proves more melodic, studied, and the fact that the guitarist in his photo wears a Nocturnus t-shirt is eloquent in this regard: this time the Morbid Angel takes flight into astral space, leading us into dimensions dense with horrible visions. An experimental attitude that materializes in the measured but effective use of synth-guitar and keyboards (courtesy of Rutan). We are certainly not facing a "Spheres" by Pestilence: the experimental component complements the brutal core that has always distinguished the band, but rest assured that listening to these tracks, you will feel as if catapulted into distant deep space and sucked into a voracious black hole (as suggested by the hallucinatory cover).

And who said that Death Metal is a cold genre? Morbid Angel are too inherently mad to be reigned back into the rational schematics prevailing in the genre. Visionary and morbid as always, they are an oasis of insane malevolence in the pragmatic and edgy sea of Death Metal, where the primary objective is to harm as much as possible. Atmosphere, instead, is a fundamental component in Morbid Angel's house. Always. "Ageless Still I Am" is unpredictable in its continuous tempo changes, a labyrinth of terror in which to die bludgeoned to death. "He Who Sleeps", written by Tucker, is a sublime doom digression reminiscent of the slow and deadly movements of an ancestral beast awakened from millennial slumbers (and the mind inevitably drifts back to the unmatchable "God of Emptiness," a brilliant coup de grace from the now distant "Covenant"). "To the Victor the Spoils" is instead a punch in the face, violent and epic at the same time, and it re-proposes the band's most classic style. Continuing, the tones will drop a little: "At One with Nothing", stumbling and slow in its progress, and "Opening the Gates", decidedly more fired-up, retrace the same settings with less conviction. But there's still time for another highlight of the album, the apocalyptic "Secured Limitations", perhaps the most unique episode of the batch, sung with dual vocals, one growl and the other screaming, reminiscent much of the early Benton. Chilling solos in fade-out and then the dark keyboards of the inevitable instrumental interlude "Awakening". Then starts again with "I", another reflective moment animated by dainty counterpoints and staccato rhythms, leading up to the final assault, the anonymous "God of the Forsaken", penned by Rutan, decidedly the most driven episode of the album.

Precision, power, sense of the abyss: the ingredients are those as always, and "Gateways to Annihilation" is an album that on one hand stands a step below the unmatched masterpieces of the beginnings, but on the other is still a not insignificant stroke of class, an act of supremacy that makes many of the seminal American band's followers pale. The old school forgives no one, folks, and after a decidedly bland album like "Heretic" (in my opinion the real first misstep in a very respectable career), one hopes that the charismatic Vincent's return home brings new life-giving energy. It's still early to worry: Z is far away!