The third outing by Swedish death lords Runemagick doesn't stray much at all from the formula established on their debut, but it's just as consistent and enjoyable a pummeling as anything. Music can shred, rip, tear, slap, and decimate, but when a pummeling is upon your ears you know you've stumbled upon something special.
My ears are like a gas station toilet, and Runemagick just ate Arby's. It's BOGO roast beef day. If you can put two and two together, you know that toilet is never going to be the same. This is also like my ears. The beginning of the album is like a fart, I am still the toilet and I am being teased. Let us also pretend Runemagick is a pretty lady. But the first track is merely setting the atmosphere. Hellfire is about to rain. Once the pummeling riffs come out, the toilet is sprayed with the heaviest of diarrhea. The sheer
density of these riffs is much like a septic tank. Once you step foot inside, there is no escape.
One immediately notices a combination of elements on
Resurrection in Blood - pummeling and doomy riffs combined with hooks, melodic riffs that are dare-I-say hummable? It is reminiscent of the sort of epic feel of albums like Bolt Thrower's
The IVth Crusade. Most death metal that's in the realm of "epic" and "melodic" is poseur crap, such as Amon Amarth. Runemagick should have been the viking posterchildren, but instead we're stuck with Skyrim goons.
