"Grizzly". How deliciously inelegant. A brute of a record. Not so much music as it is an uninvited rupture in the time-space continuum, like a chainsaw burrowing its way through a church organ mid-hymn. If pain had a DJ, he’d spin this at full volume in a crumbling ballroom while the chandelier trembles in horror.
From the very first track— "Banditos" you are bludgeoned. There’s no foreplay. No seduction. Just snarling, sweaty biceps of sound, throttling you like a giddy executioner late for his next appointment. The vocals are less SINGING and more the undulations of a taxidermized warthog possessed by a demon with too many molars.
The guitars do not shred. They eviscerate. Chunks of riff fly off into the ether like severed limbs. Somewhere between track four and five — "Babayak" perhaps — I lost track of my surroundings and awoke in a corridor drenched in red light, clutching a femur and weeping softly.
Alexander Shikolai is a man in the throes of exquisite anguish, howling as if someone set fire to his memories and handed him the ashes in a gift box. His gutturals reach sub-basement levels of human vocal capacity. If the Mariana Trench could scream, it would sound like this.
The drums are as if a meat grinder became sentient and drank 4 cans of Monster. Somewhere, an ancient tribal god is dancing naked in the woods to this madness.
Amidst the carnage, the chaos, the pantomime of pulverisation, there are moments. Strange, shimmering moments of something more theatrical. Almost cabaret, if you squint through the blood. I caught a whiff of it in "Rodina", its like a dying ballerina gasping during her final pirouette before being stomped by a jackboot made of distortion.
"Grizzly" wants your spine. And perhaps your ticket stub. It is repulsive. It is glorious. It is the soundtrack to a dental surgery conducted during an earthquake, attended by feral aristocrats in latex.
Let us raise our goblets to the grotesque. SLAUGHTER TO PREVAIL have delivered unto us an opera of agony. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must return to the laboratory. There’s an experiment screaming in D minor...
This album scores at 8 selfish lines snorted by a cocaine bear before pre-drinks, out of 10.
Words: Matt Denny
From the very first track— "Banditos" you are bludgeoned. There’s no foreplay. No seduction. Just snarling, sweaty biceps of sound, throttling you like a giddy executioner late for his next appointment. The vocals are less SINGING and more the undulations of a taxidermized warthog possessed by a demon with too many molars.
The guitars do not shred. They eviscerate. Chunks of riff fly off into the ether like severed limbs. Somewhere between track four and five — "Babayak" perhaps — I lost track of my surroundings and awoke in a corridor drenched in red light, clutching a femur and weeping softly.
Alexander Shikolai is a man in the throes of exquisite anguish, howling as if someone set fire to his memories and handed him the ashes in a gift box. His gutturals reach sub-basement levels of human vocal capacity. If the Mariana Trench could scream, it would sound like this.
The drums are as if a meat grinder became sentient and drank 4 cans of Monster. Somewhere, an ancient tribal god is dancing naked in the woods to this madness.
Amidst the carnage, the chaos, the pantomime of pulverisation, there are moments. Strange, shimmering moments of something more theatrical. Almost cabaret, if you squint through the blood. I caught a whiff of it in "Rodina", its like a dying ballerina gasping during her final pirouette before being stomped by a jackboot made of distortion.
"Grizzly" wants your spine. And perhaps your ticket stub. It is repulsive. It is glorious. It is the soundtrack to a dental surgery conducted during an earthquake, attended by feral aristocrats in latex.
Let us raise our goblets to the grotesque. SLAUGHTER TO PREVAIL have delivered unto us an opera of agony. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must return to the laboratory. There’s an experiment screaming in D minor...
This album scores at 8 selfish lines snorted by a cocaine bear before pre-drinks, out of 10.
Words: Matt Denny
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