COFFINWORM

Aren't you just a little surprised that nobody else had snagged the COFFINWORM moniker for their own hate-fueled metal band? Or maybe somebody has and we just haven't heard about it. Even if that were in fact the case, I can state without equivocation that the name is most appropriate here considering the place you may end up occupying when the 43 minutes of "When All Becomes None" has run its course (hint: it ain't above ground). The message conveyed by the Indianapolis blackened sludge fiends approaches nothing resembling hope for a better tomorrow and the harsh flesh-tearing musical delivery drives the point home like a nail through the eyeball. As such, questions regarding the purpose of continuing life on this planet may suddenly become serious considerations for you.

Or you can just stop taking these things so seriously. I know, I get it, I understand the seemingly stark realism presented. When vocalist Dave Britt is venomously shredding his way through lyrics that might as well be admonishing you to push on through to the other side or face the prospect of an increasingly repugnant mortal existence, it is hard not to hear in songs like "Spitting in Infinity's Asshole" and "High on the Reek of your Burning Remains" the soundtrack to your personal escape from a wretched existence. And the way these boys in COFFINWORM can wake the dead with crushes of godforsaken sludge-scrape and a bevy of ridiculously heavy string disfigurements, only to then chain the listener to the ball hitch and drag his pain-stricken body through the industrially wasted part of town at speeds in excess of 80 MPH, odds are that any lingering doubts about soldiering on will be dispelled.

Don't deceive yourself either. What may seem like hope during sections of rolling black metal groove are merely flying parasites of the soul masquerading as musical notes. It'll become apparent that you've been duped once you've crawled right smack dab back into more barbed-wire doom entanglements. Sanford Parker runs it all through his industrial earsplitter anyway, so if you don't suffocate from the sheer weight involved, then you'll surely find relief inside a body bag after Parker's shock waves are finished with you.

Listening to the pseudo-reasoning of the sociopath, as blind faith runs amok and its minions suffer from tunnel vision to such an extent that the psychopaths amongst us are virtually ignored, it is no wonder that these COFFINWORM blokes made a choice called "When All Became None". That is, they must have figured that the only way to get the point across was through a smartly arranged and sharply recorded sonic manifestation of human suffering and man's grotesque inhumanity toward man. You'll even find what could be considered the band's rationale for it in the lyrics of "Start Saving for your Funeral", aptly stated as: "Who could call this shitball home? / who wouldn't be best served by feasting on the funeral knell? / Who hungers not for decay? / My advice? / Start saving for your own funeral". Words to the wise; listen up.