Review Summary: "We must get Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh!"
Considering that Cannabis Corpse were only ever intended as a self-aware parodic fusion of drug-addled kinks and death metal, it has to be said that any success is well-deserved. When you compare the length of this band's career to various other failed attempts at obvious pisstaking, the difference turns out to be pretty large. That said, any haters that Cannabis Corpse have amassed along the way are automatically deemed irrelevant: The band have their own fun, not anyone else's. It's been that way since day one.
This year sees the release of the band's fourther full-length effort entitled Left Hand Pass
, and yes, numerous cheeky winks at popular death metal acts do ensue in most song titles. From the get-go the album is essentially an exercise in serious, aggressive albeit sometimes frenzied/technical musicianship, but never quite being taken seriously because of the subject matter. Being taken seriously isn't exactly at the top of Cannabis Corpse's priority list though. Getting the job in question in done is. "The 420th Crusade" and "In Dank Purity" engage in mostly mid-paced battery, but prevent the collective instrumental delivery from stagnating thanks to explosions in speed and precision, whereas the grittier likes of "Grass Obliteration" pulsate with vigorous menace, giving a well-rounded crunch to the guitar work. As mentioned before, the band engage in the more technical side of their delivery, as on "Chronic Breed", which almost brings to mind the early days of Gorguts before their more experimental side took control.
However, the consistency soon runs out by the second half of the album, something which Cannabis Corpse have unfortunately allowed to happen in most of their discography. The title track doesn't offer anything to fully engage the listener, instead listing lazily through a series of mid-paced riffs before the song finally picks up half a minute before the end. "Effigy of the Forgetful", despite its title grabbing a few humorous guffaws, offers little in the way of musical interest, and ends up plodding through three minutes of (lmao moment incoming) forgetful
delivery. Thankfully, the album regains Cannabis Corpse's idea of charm towards the end, with two songs referencing Nile but sounding absolutely nothing like the band itself. The musicianship is more interesting but depending on whether or not you've hovered your finger over the skip button by this point, the experience is rendered pretty useless.
Cannabis Corpse give yet another reason to like their way of using self-aware parody and extending the joke beyond human comprehension, but that's pretty much been the point of the band from day one. Left Hand Pass
if anything proves that the project is still willing to continue until the band have run out of ideas, but running out of ideas doesn't seem to be an option. You should know definitively if this album is for you or not before even pressing play. If you get frustrated as to why Left Hand Pass
doesn't offer any turns of the proverbial screw, you're your own worst enemy.