O new children of Azagthoth, gather and delight us with sweet, skewed, acidic, and claustrophobic distortions!
When dear Trey dismissed Vincent and took Tucker, Morbid Angel went through an initially schizoid phase that then settled into a martial, obsessive, but also expansive sound, ideal for evoking dark spirits from the deep black holes of space between one eon and the next.
This sonic direction was quite successful and led to the birth of a vast progeny, with no recognized paternity, that exacerbated the schizoid side. Think of the Australian band Portal, who seem like Morbid Angel tripping on acid, a group that considers the increase of the universe's entropy by playing as a life mission. It's no longer about howling in Sumerian to let us know how much you care about the Anunnaki, but rather about paying tribute to chaos.
The list of Trey’s offspring, as high as pineal glands, also includes Of Feather and Bone.
The menu is always the same: thirty minutes of distortions, growls, and lysergic-aggressive bangs that could open a portal to Nibiru or Aldebaran, with an added sense of quite pronounced oppression. Imagine as if a huge prehistoric-space mosquito landed on your deltoid and by stinging you, sucked your soul away. With your soul lost, detached, you would be forced to wander in this valley of tears like empty puppets, hopeless zombies, until the day when the reaper, doing his job, sends you to the afterworld. There, with anguish and terror, you would discover that, since the big mosquito made an animic smoothie, all that remains is to end up in the infernal grinder of the urban space-demonic garbage, all accompanied by merry death metal melodies of course, to put a definitive end to your existence and be deleted from the galactic-nucleotidic sequence hard drive. No more Dantean circles, they don't comply with green standards, too much sulfur and CO2!
No Elysian fields then for the unworthy metal-listeners, but as Azagthoth foretold, only portals for annihilation.
Tracklist
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