Review Summary: Something smells...
Does anyone else smell that" That reeking stench wafting over like an oppressive cloud on a gloomy day" It’s putrid and vile, descending upon the senses with a vigorously repulsive might. The smell, it’s murky, musty, and dank, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s like the wafting of death, but too sludgy to be roadkill or a rat in the walls. It’s an off-putting odor that can’t be of this world, it’s much too abstractly mortifying and unlike anything I’ve ever perceived through my nostrils before. My God is it repugnant!
That stench is key aroma of west coast death metal band Fetid, whose name is an accurate depiction of their noise. If there was ever an album you could smell the vile feces and rotting meat of, it’s Steeping Corporeal Mess
. Currently signed to 20 Buck Spin, Fetid specialize in showing their victims their intestines, bile, blood, and all, playing a wickedly murky brand of barbaric old school death metal. As a result, songs like “Reeking Within” and “Consumed Periphery” are incredibly meaty cuts of choice flesh, so to speak.
Fetid’s main skill, as you could guess, is invoking all the senses with just auditory soundscapes exclusively. While I can most certainly hear the crushing of bones and smell the bile oozing from a pile of corpses, I can also see the beast before me, growling a black sludge all over the ground, and I can taste the blood in my mouth, as I feel the last moments of life scrape by like a knife through skin. Steeping Corporeal Mess
is certainly impressive on this end, as it takes a special record to really make the listener feel something in more than just their ears. Here, you can feel the fear, horror, and grotesque nature of the violence.
Horror is definitely one of the many aims of Fetid, as “Draped in What Was” features a synth intro seemingly plucked from one of the Hellraiser
films, and the gore-filled vibe and lyrics of a track like “Dripping Sub-Tepidity,” which calls back to the tastelessness of movies like Wizard of Gore
or anything else you could find in Mad Ron's Prevues From Hell
. But overall, in terms of film, Steeping Corporeal Mess
would be much more at home in an early grindhouse film, one where the line between entertainment and snuff film is blurred. The blistering leads, the murky bass tones, the guttural vocals, the pummeling drums - it's all too much for an average horror experience.
Steeping Corporeal Mess
wastes very little time on the biases of technicality or anything other than primal and beefy compositions that leave the wild riffs room to slay. It’s a vile listen, mephitic in nature and execution. It may be straightforward and light on frivolous flairs, but that’s the point. It’s a straight shot into the heart of cleanliness and wholesome ambiances.
In other words - it ***in’ stinks.