Review Summary: Blanket party
Revenge’s drummer/vocalist/driving force, J. Read, is uncompromising. Despite building an ironclad rep and amassing a legion of diehard fans who treat his blackened death canon like unholy scripture, he’s sidestepped the pitfalls of comfort - whereas artists in a similar position could, and often do, grow self-satisfied, Revenge keep upping the adrenaline despite already being leaps and bounds ahead of the pack. In an interview with fmp666.com, Read answered almost exclusively in single sentences (sometime single words), downplaying his ferocity behind the kit and his dedication to craft. He’s never been keen on political posturing, opting instead for forthright you-get-it-or-you-don’ts. When asked about his songwriting process, he responded, “I smash my drums or bass until a song is written."
Behold.Total.Rejection is more of Revenge’s secret recipe, time-tested and familiar, hitting the usual spots. Read’s vocals froth and churn like swampy bilge water, and opener “Scum Defection” shows his ability to be both visceral and diverse. Words like “frantic” and “inhuman” might be old-hat descriptors at this point, but rest assured: no one pulls it off
quite like Revenge. It’s difficult to highlight specific moments in what is a largely erratic album. Guitar solos sidewind and spiral; spitfire ferocity changes on a dime; the band platform jumps between eight circles of hell (
Limbo remains untouched, one would guess). “Mobilization Rites” offers a clear standout with an addictive, groovy doom riff midsong. Mostly, though,
Behold.Total.Rejection is the “torrential barrage of relentless animosity” it purports to be. Revenge’s no-BS demeanour is steadfast, and the band have always treated their heritage as sacrosanct.
While some Revenge fans might gush over the band’s highly aggressive, return-to-roots approach, others might be put off the dingier aesthetic. It's not a big detriment, as the scummy sound envisions the back-room bloodsport of a cockfight: seedy, savage, and quite content to draw little attention from outsiders (the band has always embraced this ideology). Still, the album lacks crests and troughs, making it smooth on the ears, but suppressing a bit of the turbulence. All the while, Revenge display untouchable rhythm (see: “Wolf Slave Protocol” - Fuck.Me.Sideways) and unpredictable guitar prowess befitting a war metal juggernaut. Really, the biggest bone to pick is a two-sided sense of familiarity. While some might find the songs a bit same-old-but-still-solid, there’s something endearing in how the Ross Bay Cultists lace up their shitkicker steel-toes with the same conviction as always.
