Terrorizer
World Downfall

THE REVIEW

Soundtracked napalm smell, rock instrument-produced dynamite, grindcore lead, death metal bullets, war sirens in growl vocals, corpses from the fields of Vietnam and Afghanistan, and something apocalyptic. These are, in summary, the sensations and visions that a machine gun like "World Downfall" can provoke in anyone capable of handling it without boring "politically correct" prejudices.

But who were these furious lunatics and, more importantly, why were they so pissed off?

The musician-butchers who gave birth to this album answer to the names of Oscar Garcia (vocals), Jesse Pintado (guitar), Dave Vincent (bass), and Pete Sandoval (drums). The last two made their careers in the much more famous Morbid Angel, Jesse Pintado (R.I.P) found a home with their cousins Napalm Death, while Garcia, after the experience with Terrorizer, continued his activity with Nausea.

They were genuine cavemen raised on bread and Discharge, without, however, disdaining the typical sound of the feral thrash metal progeny (Venom and Slayer, to be clear). The boys did not love the liberal-capitalist society and didn't appreciate the conservative ideology that reigned supreme in the Reagan-era '80s. They had, as they say, their good reasons to detest the "system" in which they lived and had the most fascinating tools to contest it.

Taking cues from the already mentioned bands and the lesson of the early Napalm Death, the youngsters took up their instruments and entrusted themselves to the "care" of the then-young Scott Burns, a talented producer, who would later be remembered for his future works with Deicide and Death.

But how does this album sound? Infernal!

Crushing blast-beats, killer riffs, wolfish growl vocals, absence of solos and technicalities, a hardcore approach, and an insane metallic inclination are the salient features of "World Downfall". In a sense, these are the ingredients that made Terrorizer famous throughout the grindcore community.

Go listen to the ferocious "Corporation Pull In", the overwhelming "Storm of Stress", and the annihilating "Enslaved To Propaganda"! If you're still alive, you can agree with me and, with your head bowed, you will dare no longer shrug at "old" or "outdated" bands.

I would play this album for Karl Popper's spirit, blast it in the headphones of that fat Giuliano Ferrara, and force fake nonconformists like Oliviero Toscani and Vittorio Sgarbi to endure it from beginning to end. Their charming plastic world, in front of the sonic dynamite contained here, will blow up!