Trichomoniasis
Makeshift Crematoria

Since it’s Halloween night and I feel more antisocial than a bear, I decided to listen to a scary album released during these Roaring Twenties. At first, my attention was caught by Pretty Dollcorpse, but after a while the French rap, which luckily I don’t understand a word of, got boring. At that point, I gave a chance to this Makeshift Crematoria by the completely unknown to me Trichomoniasis, released two years ago.

At first, this album didn’t seem especially unsettling; in fact, it’s the usual full-blast, ball-breaking Brutal goregrind. And now I have to rack my brain to find new metaphors, but they always end up being the same: totally atonal guitars, sharp as razors, caustic as bleach; vocals like a sink clogged by a mischievous house centipede; a ruthless drum played at supersonic speed with a malevolent snare that burrows right into your skull. The first half of the record goes on like this, with the usual fabulous track titles like “esposizione acuta a indeterminati inibitori dell'acetilcolinesterasi” (what?), but the interesting part begins in the second half. Imbued with Senescence is a pitch-black downward spiral where fear finally surfaces in its horrifically slowed-down passages, while in Predacious Stylet you can hear the unnerving sounds of some cute little critters, or at least that’s how I imagine them. Also worth mentioning is An Embarrassment of Riches, which flirts with acoustic guitar—at least from what I remember; don’t ask me to listen to it again, I might need to put on some adult diapers! And after a few more semi-jumpscares and almost Slam-like passages, you arrive at the unworthy acoustic and dissonant ending of Groaning Siphon.

So, all in all, is Makeshift Crematoria scary? Certainly, for a lot of people it’s an unapproachable album, yet this work has a vague avant-garde flavor that catches you off guard when you least expect it in a surreal Grind maelstrom. And after listening to it, I can safely say two things: one, my nerves are pretty shot and in tears, and two, I wouldn’t want to hear it again in my worst nightmares. Easily available on Bandcamp: the choice is yours... HINGED OPERCULUM...

Until next time.