Pungent Stench
Ampeauty

On the foreign side of our beautiful Alps, there must be something wrong, something malevolent, putrid, of abysmal darkness. Otherwise, one could not comprehend the heinous musical offerings coming from Switzerland and Austria: from the monstrous (and sacred monsters) Celtic Frost, to the diabolical and spatial Samael, from the crazy Disharmonic Orchestra to the bizarre and brilliant Coroner, passing through the introspective Sadness (I would like to propose something soon from this unknown Swiss combo, perhaps "Danteferno").

And last but not least, our Pungent Stench: the filthiest, most depraved, and sincerely perverted band coming directly from the infernal circle of the sodomites (which probably must be quite close to our artists' residence, therefore Vienna and surroundings), ejaculated from the death cauldron in the second half of the '80s.

From the seminal "For God your soul... for me your flesh," through "Dirty rhymes and psychotronic beats" (a truly "remarkable" cover if you love the filthiest and less cerebral S/M) to the dangerous (for the overly de Sadian themes tackled) and decadent "Masters of moral, servants of sin," a long march that has lasted for almost two decades in the inner search for the limit of disgust beyond which it strays into the gaudy and the ridiculous. Each release is conceived to push the listener's sense of modesty a bit further, their reluctance to submission and lechery, to sexual experimentation, to the common sense of decency. Even the most dramatic events are reinterpreted under the satirical (in the most extreme sense of the word) and cynical eye of Schirenc (guitar and vocals) and Mr. Stench (drums), true masters of perversion and deformation of objective reality.

In this context fits our latest discographic release: "Ampeauty," a play on words to indicate the beauty of mutilated (ahem, female) bodies (even the best words cannot describe the internal booklet that Nuclear Blast allowed to be published), as well as the main theme of the album.

From a purely musical point of view, we are faced with a mix of dirty acid/stoner rock (which sometimes even recalls the immense Trouble of "Maniac Frustration"), sabbathian doom and healthy old school European-styled death metal. Now, you might be wondering if something similar hasn't already been proposed by Entombed from "Wolverine Blues" onwards, but do not be fooled: starting from the same premises does not mean achieving the same results.

The album sounds damn original and sincere, compact just right and never chaotic: the only weak point is the slow fading in the final tracks, let's say from "No guts, no glory" (track n°8) onwards.

Merit notes to the initial trio of the album: the opener "Lynndie (She-Wolf Of Abu Ghraib)" with its deadly main riff (the song is dedicated to the female marine lieutenant photographed in the act of torturing Iraqi prisoners in Abu Ghraib prison), the subsequent "Invisible Empire," with the unusual all-blues central break as in the best Southern tradition, and the "almost" (considering the main themes of the album) title track "The Amp Hymn," with its chilling distorted arpeggio on which the chorus is based.

Not bad either is the depraved and powerful "Got Milf?" (if you like mature women....) and the sulfurous "Apotemnophiliac." Also noteworthy is the excellent and crystal-clear production, in which all instruments have a remarkable definition without losing in power and drive.

In conclusion, if you have a robust stomach and an unhealthy desire for oddities, then this "Ampeauty" will make you sing at the top of your lungs to the rhythm of a deformed and rotten sick death metal (as they define themselves).