For some reason whilst listening to this a quote from the late, great Anthony Burgess came to mind “Great Music, it said, and Great Poetry would like quieten Modern Youth down and make Modern Youth more Civilized. Civilized my syphilised yarbles.” It just seemed apt and as far as civilized is concerned there is not a hint of it to be found here. Indeed if young Alex had been subjected to the music of Profanatica he would have undoubtedly found it a real horrorshow. Pioneers of the USBM scene Paul Ledney and John Gelso have been spreading their filth on the unsuspecting since way back in 1990. After taking some time out it has only been since 2007 that they have actually been active on the album front and this is their 4th full length release following quickly (by their standards) from 2013 release ‘Thy Kingdom Cum.’ Having been innovators in this guise as well as in other acts Crowned in Semen, Havohej and The Royal Arch Blaspheme to name but a few it’s probably fair to say that those who enjoy wallowing in utter musical filth have been looking forward to this. Time to take a deep breath and prepare for a disharmonic shit shower.
If you are new to this cult it’s probably best not to go into it looking for all out ultraviolence. Sure, Profanatica do attack but do so in a stealthy form and go for the slowly torturous kill. A long note slithers out as we are ‘Ordained In Bile’ and the foul sermon crashes in with drums booming hollowly out. The production here is fearsome and massive with the bass tones thick throughout and the guitars grating and grinding away. Background rasps coat it all in a malevolent coat of ghastliness and it sounds as though something is being summoned from the unholy bowels of hell. The pace is leaden and deadly, getting into a pulverising gnarly tumult which is actually full of underlying melody and not quite as claustrophobic as I have found previous works. The blackened doom definitely gets right under the skin though, make no mistake about that. The first few tracks march on with steadfast determination. There are words formed like oozing slime beneath the gravid stomp but making them out is impossible, it’s probably just as well. Ledney’s drumming is particularly forthright here, it may not be fast but it gains attention rolling in and adding definition at the start of songs like ‘Magic and Muhr’ before the bass tones brood, shake and tremble going right through the ribs in search of the heart, almost as though determined to grip hold, squeeze and extinguish all life.
As the album progresses it has a real mesmerising and hypnotic feel about it drawing you right in to its covert blasphemies like a dangerous cult leader persuading you to sign your soul over to them. Tracks are not overwrought and are just the right length to fill you with dread and terror. Some razor sharp riffs on ‘Host Over Cup’ suddenly stand out from the bass heavy heft and strangulate and the track adds some dreadful spoken words in the background sending shivers of fear down the spine before the track batters into final submission. Long elongated riffs form as possibly the most volatile and deadly track ‘Rotten Scriptures’ drives everything into a more aggressive peak, drums hammering and vocals becoming ever more possessed. The twisting riffs and slewed atmospheric dread continue to rigidly consume and things thunder away with different degrees of hostility leading up to the finale and longest track the ‘Curling Flame’ itself. Some subtle squealing riffs and a huge concussive drum furrow doomily brutalise to the end and the feeling of unease will remain long after silence has tried to install a sense of peace to your fractured psyche.
I am yet to listen to this on headphones, yep I really have chickened out so far in getting quite so personal and at one with this but Profanatica have again proven that they are one of the most grim and grimy listening experiences you are likely to encounter out there. My yarbles will never quite be the same again.
(8.5/10 Pete Woods)
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