Review Summary: The revelry of sonic destruction.
AngelMaker are as hellbent on gnarled deathcore edge as their name would suggest. It would not be incorrect to state that the entirety of the bands foundations are on the tropes extremes-a kick pedal pleading for mercy as it's beholder lays waste with another blast beat, vocal chords that disintegrate into an evanescent dust with every piercing shriek and pig squeal, arthritic fingers searing with the furious pain of a thousand tremolo picks- all of these various body parts are sacrificial to the craft.
Opening track "Slaughter" is, in many ways, a looming middle figure to anyone who would advise the sheer notion of
progress. Consisting almost entirely of (immensely) downtuned chugging and gutturals reminiscent of my last visit to the pig pens of a local farm, it operates dually as both a welcome embrace and a defiant shove (that of which depends on your disposition towards the tropes of all things -core). From here on it is the band's ability to operate within these narrow confines that showcase the grand panorama of sheer talent they possess. Alternating between blazing arpeggios and holy-hannah where's my Hello Kitty pillow breakdowns, breakneck witchy rasps, bellowing shouts, and some of the lowest gutturals to bless this side of the hemisphere, it makes for an experience that is still engaging in spite of how one-track it can all be.
Even with this homogeneity in mind it is worth noting that distinguishable moments do rear their heads-the bouncy and almost playful riffwork of "The Great Gray Flame'' which juxtaposes rather nicely to the beginning chuggathon of "What I Would Give". Interestingly this particular track has the closest thing to
any respite this record has to offer, as the conflagration temporarily gives way to a smolder near it's last minute, only to amass into a triumphant blaze shortly thereafter. Amongst a record full of beatdown brocore anthems like "Oppressive Control", it is quite satisfying to hear something truly coalesce. This could almost be construed as restraint, at least considering the particularly unyielding frenzied guitar shreds on "Lazarus" or the immediate gilded triumph of "Creators Conscious". All these immense and intense traits are what make this record such a
blast. It is an ultimate exercise in excess, crafted with little regard for change or progressive ideas. This is AngelMaker plodding along, one hell-raising riff at a time.
