Tomb Mold
The Enduring Spirit

The extraterrestrial space scenario has gained traction in the death metal field, where for some time now album covers have prominently featured tentacled life forms, galactic hives, or humanoid androids piloting spaceships (pyramids don't always have onboard computers).

There is a trend that leans more towards the later Morbid Angel, with later meaning the early Tucker period, not the delirium that came afterward, where blood-sucking alien-demons, lying in dreadful black holes, dominate the scene and the music is martial, schizoid, and dissonant. This is well embodied by bands like Of Feather and Bone and others of that ilk, who have added the madness of Portal (the Australians, not the post-Cynic group) to Morbid Angel.

Then there is the faction that favors cyborgs and artificial intelligence and musically draws from the skewed music of Gorguts and the post-hardcore contaminations of Ulcerate. Artificial Brain are a fitting example of this.

Lastly, there are the more delicate deathsters, the more traditionalists tied to the more classic techno death, who talk about aliens and Anunnaki without too much gloominess, as much as the genre can be not gloomy. Among these, Blood Incantation have gained a decent following, and Tomb Mold is poised to do so, given the positive reviews they are receiving.

Looking at the group's photos, one immediately notices the musicians' nice-guy demeanor, so ungruesome they could help old ladies cross the street.

In fact, although it is death metal without ifs and buts, the sound is hard yet often fluid and airy, well-blended between a solid post-“Human” Death base and fusion incursions worthy of vintage Cynic, very well-calibrated and inserted into the context in a never forced and natural way. The technicalities are never an end in themselves, and the album flows pleasantly like a languid river on the surface of a chosen planet, located somewhere between Bellatrix and Betelgeuse.

The lesson of the last thirty years of death metal has been excellently learned, the comparison with the bands that dabbled in the genre about fifteen years ago is won; for instance, I remember Obscura, who were quite fashionable, but compared to Tomb Mold sounded much more forced and pretentious.

The flaw that presents itself, because there is indeed a flaw, unfortunately, is the excessive mannerism and lack of that spark of genius or innovation, or simply the absence of tracks with irresistible drive. Because if at the end of the listening session one feels like putting on “Individual Thought Patterns” or “Thresholds” again, something’s not right.

Nevertheless, an obligatory mention of what today's scene has to offer.