Review Summary: Death n' Roll Rocks Supreme
Death Metal. It goes with fuckin' everything. Want heavier Thrash but you're too much of a pussy to take on the actual D? Deathrash. Looking to liven up your boring ass prog bitch album? Add some chunky Death Metal riffs and growls to make that shit at least listenable (it'll still suck ass but not anywhere near as badly). Finally saved enough cash selling your barely audible Black Metal demos? Add some production while still pretending you're Trve Kvlt by racking up $$$ in Blackened Death Metal records. Say what you will but it bought Nergal his beloved chihuahuas.
With such a diverse, perfect, all-encompassing genre as Death Metal in hand you can't go wrong. So why not go way back and unite the ultimate genre with its humble grandfather, good old Rock n' Roll, baby? This ain't no Elvis—we're not tolerating no jailhouse party—we're breaking the fuck outta there and the warden can suck it. This is
DCLXVI: To Ride, Shoot Straight, and Speak the Truth. For you Roman illiterate fools that DCLXVI is 666 because this is THE DEVIL'S MUSIC ON STEROIDS. Jack Chick's little bitch comics couldn't even fathom. What's the rest of the unnecessarily long title mean you ask? Whatever the fuck you want because WE'RE ROCKIN', WE'RE ROLLIN', WE'RE DEATHIN', WE'RE METALLIN', AND THAT'S ALL THAT FUCKING MATTERS. Why is the cover formatted like a movie poster? NO ONE KNOWS SHUT THE FUCK UP.
DCLXVI, or if your illiterate ass prefers,
Dicklesvee, doesn't feature a single weak song. The Title track does exactly as it says on the jewel case by laying the foundation for the endless deathy groovefest about to copulate with your cochleae. It's dirty, it's wild, it gives no fucks, and owing to the production can be a hard listen for the uninitiated even by Death Metal standards. But once you're settled you're on the way to relentless eargasms.
Just as Sad gives you a rocky deathrash pummelling, while tracks like
Damn Deal Done and
Boats yield that classic rock feel, yeah baby, just like that. The record pulls all the way through with a highly satisfying climax in
Wreckage, featuring the chunkiest riffs imaginable, a densely layered addictively catchy chorus, and a tambourine that so absolutely belongs there if you took it out it would be the end of the world.
In short, there's only CXCIII of you cucks out there that have listened to this masterpiece, SO QUIT YOUR BITCHIN' AND 4 IT ALREADY.
