Necrodeath
Into The Macabre

THE REVIEW

1990?
I was blasting my eardrums listening to "Terrible Certainty" and similar stuff.

REW... REW... Continuous repetition. Crude and butcher-like approach.

Violence? Yes please, for two.

The Usual Friend shows up: "Do you know the Italian scene?"

Dr. H. "...Italian Scene?"

"Well,... here you go, you don't understand a damn thing..."

I find my backpack full of the usual scribbled tapes.
Schizo, Bulldozer, Necrodeath, Mondocane...

Walkman... Cassette...

Side A: Necrodeath - "Into The Macabre"

Side B: Necrodeath / Schizo - "Mondocane"

Sure. I know that over there, every one of you has your precise concept of anger, originality, music, and violence. We could slap each other for hours saying that a certain album sounds all the same, or no, it's a milestone, or actually a masterpiece of technique, a steaming pile of crap or has an inimitable sound. Well, personally I don't give a damn about having a nice sparkling production in my hands, alluring packaging, I'm not interested in consistency in the musical proposal, I don't care if it's slow, fast...

Some (rare) albums are entirely pervaded by fire, by the passion of the moment.

Anger, heart, balls are not just words thrown around. Certain records are pervaded by truth, and in that precise moment they really tell us everything about who wrote them.

In these (rare) cases the sound, the recording, the "knowing how to play", the genre are bullshit. With an imperfect language, with its limits someone has pierced through space and overwhelmed you.

Seek this.

Don't give a damn about the criticism, about what your friend thinks, about the ugly covers.

Seek this.

Into The Macabre (1987)

Black, dreamlike, fast, deadly: an authentic vision.

Raw production, but Ingo's voice always on point... like a scalpel.

"The Flag of The Inverted Cross" immediately hits you with one of those blows, forget Brutal, you just pray it ends, or rather no, you want more... And so off we go, down we go to the "Mountains of Madness", a manifesto of delirium... let yourself be led by the intro, dark hypnotic puffs of smoke, let's go, where there is only annihilating brutality... "Hide... Hide... Hide"...

Peso constructs a percussive fabric that makes you bleed, now slow, heavy like our emptiness, now fast, extremist, a bullet that plants itself between your eyes.

Full riffing, evocative, spins, spins, roars with primitive anger... "Sauthenerom"...

Then She arrives... "Mater Tenebrarum"...

I've torn my throat shouting it.

But She doesn't give a damn, she arrives and it's death, death, death, death...

Turn up the volume, turn it up... the nightmares are here... now... she is... gloomy.

"Necrosadist", "Internal Decay"...

When this was released it was a terrifying, morbid album...

Pray to your god that the future gives us many more like this, so dirty, so real...