Review Summary: Who the hell signed this band?
There are certain things one would expect when listening to professional musicians. One is that they at least have some grasp of what they are doing. Even the worst albums I have heard up to this point are at least done by people who know something about how music works. Another thing you would expect of a professional band is the ability to keep in sync with each other and sound somewhat focused. However, on Perverse Recollections of a Necromangler
, Waking the Cadaver demonstrates neither of these abilities.
At first, it might seem as though they are simply another act hopping on the deathcore bandwagon. However, this band's true downfall is the fact that they sound disjointed and unfocused, and they try way, way too hard to be "brutal." Their sole lyrical topic is over the top, Z-grade horror movie violence, frequently against "bitches" and "whores" as they oh-so-lovingly refer to them. To make it even worse, the lyrics sound as if they were written by a psychotic and perverted serial killer while high on cocaine.
Believe it or not, there is worse to be found. Even the most god-awful lyrics can be somewhat forgiven if they have decent vocal performances to back them up. There are no such performances anywhere to be heard. Their vocalist has an atrocious singing voice, and I use the term "singing" as loosely as possible. What your ears are treated to is what sounds like a pig being slaughtered while screaming in ear-grating grunts that make Suicide Silence's vocals sound like a choir of angels, that sound as if they have been forced out through the nose, ruining any possible chance of getting at the very least a laugh out of the lyrics.
The rest of the band is not any better. The guitarists play generic, chugging riffs without any sort of change. The bassist might as well have not shown up for recording sessions, because there is absolutely not a single bass note to be heard. The drummer cannot keep time, goes off-beat frequently, and fails to keep the band together in a cohesive way. None of the band members demonstrate any variety in their technique. The songs are all written with the same formula, with only minor alterations telling you that the next track has started.
Once you reach the end of the album, you will discover it's sole saving grace. The album is only twenty-six minutes long, and so does not waste an enormous amount of your time. What is perhaps even more surprising than the horrificness of the album itself, is that anyone thought that it would be a good idea to sign this band, that they had any redeeming qualities besides comedy, that they were any better that a garage band made of thirteen-year-olds. Unless you wish to torture your ears, avoid this album like the plague.