Techno Animal
Ghosts

Kevin Martyn and Justin Broadrick. The harshelettronoise coup d'état. There are no glimmers of hope, not even by praying. This is a hunter's path equipped with all the atrocities necessary to earn the title of brutal on any hammering metal magazine. I saw the pale faces of my friends more accustomed to grime turn cyanotic at the first cries of "Burn", an exodus from Egypt with chains at their feet, a kind of techno-mining torture with a high ferrous metal content. And then down, down into the almost post-nuclear horror of "Walk then Crawl" and let's remember that we must die, wavering dub that flirts with the most necro-funereal German industrial. Then the two take Steve Albini's pornographic deviations seriously and put the dismembered corpses of Godflesh, Heavy Winged, and Sightings in the station wagon, speeding off towards an unspecified dead city.

This is still luxury garbage, carcinogenic waste that even a well-trained Japanese person could barely digest. The atmospheres close the throat like nerve gas, the rhythms are mazurkas for the last day on earth, occasionally opening with some vocal samples that do more harm than good.
Speaking of vocal samples: "Freak Fucker" opens with a "Das Ende" shouted by the very fresh Adolf Hitler, then it seems like it’s going to start but remains suspended, stuck between the rusty traps of a shitty fog on shaky architectures made by hyperfuzz and vibrations that are calculated with Avogadro's number.

The masterpiece, however, is "Tough Cop/Soft Cop", 11 minutes and twenty seconds of brutal guitar inserts on a napalm shower, the drums are a hammer of the gods, and occasionally saxophone deviations à la Braxton make the polonium pie mixture a true indigestible brick, while almost like an orchestration directed by Evil himself, loops of muriatic acid, cell phone vibrations, limb amputations, voices recorded live from torture chambers, snuff movie maulings, and rhythmic contortions worthy of a beach party on the green meadows of Chernobyl accumulate.

The same speech as always applies: if we stop at the crust, we might even remain paralyzed by the poison, but if we get used to the taste, sooner or later we will become slaves to it.

They should blast it at full volume to the children, from kindergarten to high school.