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Review: Retribution Body, "Baphomet"

By Steve Dewhurst

For Baphomet‘s creation, Matthew Azevedo decamped to Methuen Memorial Music Hall, replete with its 160 year old Great Organ and famed four-second reverberation.

Pete Swanson
A Folk Music of Sorts: An Interview with Zefan Sramek of Precipitation

By Jason Cabaniss

"For much of my work, both musical and otherwise, the notion of place is very important. That’s one of the reasons I like using field recordings."

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Inbox #10: Real Life Ambient Top 10

By Emmerich Anklam

Greil Marcus, whose books like Mystery Train and Lipstick Traces and The History of Rock ‘n’ Roll in Ten Songs deepen the mysteries of rock music instead of explaining them away, has kept up his Real Life Rock Top 10 column with few interruptions for more than thirty-five years. This edition of The Inbox is structured after his column and dedicated to him.

Slide 2
Guest Playlist #08: H. Anthony Hildebrand

By Steve Dewhurst

“The first album I was given was Rolf Harris’ Greatest Hits... that’s how not cool the music happening at our house was."

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Various Artists, “Greatest Shits”

Have you been flogging yourself to ribbons day and night for your failure to snatch a copy of Crown of SoresDeath Maggot?  How many fucking times have you gouged “gaaargh” into your own forearms with a blunt eyeliner pencil just because you missed Krummholz‘s Raging Corpse tape? Well put that shit down because guess what: Death Treat‘s listening and it’s trying to save your ass. Sure, you might still have to find classic tracks like Pain Piss‘s “Cigarette Inferno” and Staint‘s “St. Stephen Raped Me” on some godforsaken torrent somewhere (yeah, good luck), but save yourself some sanity awhile and grab this Greatest Shits compo first to get you through those long sexless nights.

Lowlights dredged from the Death Treat catacombs, these seven hoary old representatives of the label’s signature scummy sound come on plain black tape in a zip lock baggie like a cancered chunk o’ lung headed straight for the charnel house: no frills, no unnecessary distractions from the filth within save for a xeroxed zine to taunt you with the sickening shit you had the misfortune to miss because you were too busy fuckin’, I dunno, fisting a cat or something. If you want contempt, you got it: Death Treat has never been in this game to make friends. So as you cry at the sight of Yupuque‘s feted thrashcore opus Die and Get a Monument (the one with “Foetal Custody” on), you can force Xenoxoth into your skull at least – they’re well represented here by their controversial “FUCK BURZUM.” And remember that Venereal Equinox tape Raise From The Dead To Kill You Again you asked your mum for at Christmas but she was too scared to get because she thought the devil would “come through the internet”? It’s your lucky 5 minutes and 23 seconds, yo, because “Suppertime for Satan” is on here and it snarls just as hard as you thought it might.

You’ll leave this tape wanting more: more spit, more anger, more blood and guts. It’s over too quick on purpose, because the fuckers behind it know how desperate you were to get your grotty claws on it. What’s here is a stabbed torso of a retrospective, where each rotten wound oozes grim black metal.  Witness Otum Rectepulent, the Oregon 7(ish)-piece, who sound like they’re strangling one another with their own giblets (maybe they are), as they vomit for air in a shrieking heap of guitar noise; hyperventilate as Krummholz hurl you through their “Fast Nirvana Cover,” which I have reason to believe is a summation in 90 horrid seconds of the precise sound Cobain’s brains made as they hit the greenhouse wall.

Carniwhore, politically astute as ever, contribute by far the longest track here with “The Corporations Have Honed Your Mouth Anus,” a dying pig of a 10-minuter that purposely outstays its welcome by about 9 minutes and may cause you to self-scalp if you make it past 5. At the other end of the intelligibility scale, as always, fall Venereal Equinox, whose modus operandi brings spoken word into a kind of ant-flavoured riff soup. “Suppertime for Satan” quotes Faces of Death to chilling effect; it’s no “Gash Gash Cum,” sure, but it’s a big-hitter from one of the most sought after tapes in the deep Death Treat anals annals so be happy with that.

Elsewhere, Celtic thrash bass-tards Black Fungus bring the crunchy, jerking “Cyr Ded (Anal Crust)” to the worst party in the world, and the mighty Crown of Sores power through an especially fast-sounding “Death Maggot” (experts: does this sound like the original recording to you?).  If you make it through this rancid compilation, good on yer; hopefully your reward will be a Greatest Shits II. If Death Treat’s reading, I need to get some of that sweet Blast Gasp back in my life after I accidentally sat down on Die-Oderant last week and it literally went all up inside me.

Marks for this: 666 out of ?