Nails
Unsilent Death

The Nails couldn't have chosen a better name for this album. Bastard children halfway between Entombed and Converge (also produced by Mr. Kurt Ballou), they don't know what silence is, even in the stop-and-go moments, noise and screeches take over. The guitars are dirty, rusty drills, the bass a real shotgun, everything is enormous in this album. Except for the track lengths—just a hammer's time to drive the nail into your ears and the job is done.

It starts with a senseless lash like "Conform" and doesn't stop until the first mid-tempo in "Suffering Soul", which leads us towards sludge territories of rare violence, a venomous gem, that immediately resumes the path towards hatred with the title track, a glowing coal elephant racing madly among the trees on the cover, until it finds the hanging corpse of tranquility, the voice distorts, it feels like hearing Phil Anselmo again in "Fucking Hostile".

And that's exactly what these Nails are, fucking hostile, the violence never ends, grind becomes an integral part of the game ("Traitor") and it almost feels like hearing Napalm Death in "No Servant" where the first "melody" of these 14 minutes finds room, a solo reminiscent of Slayer, and we only catch our breath (in a sulfur breath) with the final "Depths", the longest track on the album, but not the least violently intense, the guitars launch into sick and absurd solos, opening the doors to the magma-coated monolith that is the tail of the track.

The nail is deeply embedded in the nerves.