Rotten Sperm
Choking On Rotten Sperm

In my almost moving post-adolescent view of the world, I had convinced myself that men would eventually put a stop to what Freud called the "Id" and what I call idiocy; the past tense I used spares me from having to specify that this is no longer the case. It wasn't a war or a particularly obtuse law that changed my mind, but rather the work I'm about to review, perhaps a joke of music, perhaps a shining example of the idiocy I mentioned above, more realistically another brick contributing to the construction of that terrifying genre (read it with the double meaning of the English "terrific") that is Grindcore.

My city, Turin, is proudly (not even a little) the birthplace of this solo project called Rotten Sperm (the name is already a statement), which sets out to shatter all the negative records a record can reach. Thank God it’s not a real album but a small Demo made of four songs lasting about seven minutes, still a sufficient duration to make any unlucky listener shudder. The sole member Rotten Foetus Pulverizer, a brain-dead individual who is so ashamed of his own project that he insists on remaining anonymous; so much so that even those who know him here in town prefer to pretend nothing happened (I can imagine the parents). Now, if it is already shocking that someone makes a Demo a month after the "foundation" of the group, it is even more shocking that someone self-produces a demo (and when I say self-produced, I don't mean that he paid for the recording, but that he literally recorded and mixed the songs at home).

And if this seems normal to you, know that the songs are not composed but are played AT RANDOM on an acoustic guitar, so much so that he defines himself on his own My Space as an "Acoustic Folk Grindcore" artist. "But you can't do Grind on an acoustic guitar!" the usual nitpickers would say, "Yes, you can!" I reply proudly (not a bit) holding "Choking On Rotten Sperm". "But then he broadens the horizon of music, he is a musical genius!" the various enthusiastic Grind connoisseurs will say, "No, he isn’t!" I will reply, this time omitting the "proudly," holding "Choking On Rotten Sperm". "But then he is a madman!" you will say "No, he is a fool!" I will reply. I'm sorry to dampen the enthusiasm, but in this demo there is nothing genius, there are only streams of utter nonsense that, as much as they may make you laugh, cannot be called "music". In reality, the idea of making extreme metal using an acoustic guitar is not new and is taken (not cursorily, but almost) from Impaled Northern Moon Forest; authors of the only eponymous record, these were two members of Anal Cunt who, to mock the most fanatical Black Metallers, made the aforementioned, hilarious parody (essentially it's a record where there is an acoustic guitar played aimlessly, drums played on thighs, and a tremendously stupid proto-scream).

Rotten Sperm does not do it differently, only that it brutally abolishes the drums and uses a Growl (and other stupid noises) instead of the Scream; the acoustic guitar (so lowered and out of tune as to be almost indistinguishable from an electric one) is played without knowledge so it is impossible to talk about technique or song composition. The only variant is the Intros, some of which are absolutely hilarious and taken from the worst trash TV shows and not (from Beavis & Butthead, to Bombolo even daring to cite Shining). The song titles are also amusing ("Swordfish Impalement", "Blowjob Apocalypse", "Cunnilingued To Death" and "Cunnilingued To Death (reprise)"), worthy of the worst grind groups around. I will skip the details about the booklet, in which he declares taking inspiration from great jazz musicians and playing dozens of instruments that aren't even in the songs (including inline skates!?!).

In short, Rotten Sperm is the project of an idiot, a "Minus Habens", an idea with neither head nor tail that will bring its creator only insults (at best); the artistic value is non-existent, and if we remove the comic vein that permeates the entire work, on the musical side the record does not exist. The fact is that "Choking On Rotten Sperm" is not conceived as a Demo, but as a sketch, a particularly tasteless Cabaret number in which music and comedy are inseparable. Disarming in their unfathomable idiocy, the songs are sucked, a hard blow even for those used to listening to all kinds of sonic atrocities; yes, because besides being stupid and of an objectively embarrassing ugliness, the songs are also unlistenable and extremely boring.

So what to do? Willingly or unwillingly, we play the game of Rotten Foetus Pulverizer; I am sure, in fact, that an individual capable of producing such an atrocity will be more than happy to receive a fat zero and a significant amount of insults.

"Choking On Rotten Sperm" is not music, it may make you laugh, but it’s not music, it is the testimony of how low the human mind can go.