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Rating: (Foreword: this review is neither meant to be a provocation nor an insult to anyone's musical tastes. It simply expresses my thoughts on the band. Happy reading)
This “CD” is a collection of recordings for the British show “Radio 1,” spanning a period from the distant 1987 to the more recent 1996, thus including all the numerous lineup changes the English band has gone through during their career. The show, as the booklet states, felt genuinely interested in the Grindcore phenomenon and its founders Napalm Death, around whom many stories/legends circulated, such as the college degrees of some members, the immense collection of pornographic material of the bassist (bassist… what a big word) Shane Embury, and the insurrectionist anarcho/communist ideology of the four (or five) individuals in question.
I confess from the outset that I have a strong repulsion towards the blast beat (for those who don't know, it is an incomprehensibly fast, dizzying, chaotic, and exasperating way of playing the drums), a repulsion that fortunately, or unfortunately, leads me to detest all the genres that adopt it, among which I mention Black Metal (although there is something nice, but very little) and Grindcore, of which Napalm Death would be the founders and leading exponents, causing me to be accused of "closed-mindedness" by some of my friends who would even allow themselves to be sodomized by a castrated camel for this band. How they do it, I don't even know; you’ll have to ask them.
Intrigued by a band about which I had heard so much and such good things, I bought this CD at the modest price of six euros and fifty with the idea: "If I like it, good, if I don't like it, I won't have lost much." Luckily.
Six euros and fifty thrown away, for half a dozen cavemen who make all-the-same songs, without the slightest variation, based on the exasperating tatatatatatatatata-tu-ciaff-tatatatata-tu-ciaff, recorded (and played) terribly, with guitars that seem to have wooden strings (when the awful recording gives us the luck of hearing them), a bass that simply serves to increase the general situation of complete chaos that permeates the entire “album” being played randomly and in a slapdash manner, a singer who seems like a psychopath just out of the asylum in a drug-withdrawal crisis offering an atonal burp always serving no purpose, supported by a drummer who ALWAYS emits the same, identical screams “La la la la la” (the screams are ALWAYS and I repeat ALWAYS the same as one another) sounding like Tarzan of the Jungle and playing simply recklessly without a hint of coherence or simply without any semblance of rhythm.
By God, there are a few good things, especially some pieces taken from “From Enslavement To Obliteration” and “Harmony Corruption,” but the rest is simply a real bad trip, a negative journey that seems caused by LSD hallucinations.
With this review, I absolutely do not want to provoke anyone, if you want to listen to them, listen to them, but I cannot tolerate them.
They may be the founders of Grindcore, but music is music and not chaos, and listening to five communists who don't know how to play and are proud of it is not exactly the goal of my life.
It will take time before I purchase another “CD” of these clowns. With utmost respect for all Grindsters and Napalm themselves, the genre is not for me.
I’m going to listen to Morbid Angel.
Tracklist and Lyrics
05 Multinational Corporations / Instinct of Survival / Stigmatized / Parasites (04:12)
13 Glimpse Into Genocide (02:56)
Blindness leading.
Which one of me is real?
Through corridors of uncertainity
A force without form.
I've dug a hole so deep,
full of the shit of compromise.
For once can't I keep
pain on the outside.
Adapt.
Take on release.
Others.
Thoughts infringed.
Adapt.
Take on release.
A life -
On pause syringed.
[x2]
A glimpse into genocide.
My own emotionsm a million strong.
A heart so full of emptiness
15 My Own Worst Enemy (03:30)
Played out, wide off the mark,
Mania develops,
Akin ti fiction,
More than to a world of fact.
[Chorus:]
My own worst enemy.
My own worst enemy.
Lifes foul treachery.
My own worst enemy.
Dams of emotions build
A dull and trubid screen,
Clouding veils of black
In jungles of hopes opressed.
[Chorus]
So many times,
For no reason.
So many promised punches,
For what reason?
Ceaseless decay,
Parallel obscene and flagrant.
Ceaseless decay,
Restrained my mind coils.
So many times,
For no reason.
So many promised punches,
For what reason?
Ceaseless decay,
Parallel obscene and flagrant.
Ceaseless decay,
Restrained my mind coils.
Played out, wide off the mark,
Mania develops,
Akin to fiction,
More than to a world of fact.
My own worst enemy.
My own worst enemy.
Life foul treachery
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