Chaotic deathgrind with proggy leanings from Buenos Aires. OK this is a bit different. From the get go this is not the stereotypical South American lo fi blast fest that my cynical and foolhardy ears expected.

It’s a jumble of influences and a cut and shut of styles all of which more raw and rusty than the others. Grindcore blasts? Sure. Powerviolence tempos and breaks? Why the hell not. Brutal fucking old school death metal crushing riffs and slams? Yeah, they have grabbed their combat shorts and jumped in as well. Elements of noise and industrial blunt the cutting edge as well to make sure that the wounds they cause will never heal.

Fuck me this is brutal. It is pounding away as I type this and it is leaving me with feeling of slow dread, like walking down an alley late at night in an unfamiliar part of town. There are figures approaching. What do they want! ?

Five band members. Five tracks. Thirty and a half minutes of chaos is the gift these clandestine folk force upon me.  I can remember the first time I heard Cryptopsy – some 20 years ago- I commented on air that the drums sounded like they had been pushed down the stairs and then the rest of the band jumped after them. It was meant as a nervous compliment by someone who was just dipping their toe in newer “extremity” after years in a thrash, punk and goth world.

There are moments in this album that those words loom up like the spectre of King D’s Abigail from the foot of the staircase. Opener “Errar” has passages where Matteo Cassullo unleashes his inner Gene Krupa and Pete Sandoval at the same time like a crazed Octopus attacking his kit like he wants to kill every single skin and cymbal. The rest of the band attack what is left of the writhing carcass with spikey tech barbs which surely must put the poor blighter out of its misery. Meanwhile Matias Fontana narrates the assault in the harshest tones.

This is not sit back and relax music. It is also not jump in the pit and beat the air or ground with bloodied fists music.

This is “sit in its path and be blasted and ricocheted back and forth”- the sonic equivalent of a fairground ride built by a sadist with ADHD.

“Herida”, up next hits hard. I get a Primitive Man on crystal meth vibe from it. Bleak and oppressive but with the impending doom rushing at you with a razor blade instead of slowly suffocating you. The inclusion of cleanish sounding grindcore/japcore style vocals over a heavy industrial riff at one point spins my little bald head out. Things then slow to a proper sludgy pace – oooooooof!

“Odian” mixes big dirty riffs with discordant guitars, tempo changes and some harsh but angelic electronics that are as mesmerising as they are brutal. This is an assault on the senses, the colours and even smells that it conjures up go well beyond being “just music”. Bright lurid primaries mix with shit and piss tones and the smell of ash and rotting flowers is tipped into my brainbox. “Ulcera” has the guitars so stretched and fucked up at first, I think they have brought a cornet into play and have to rewind it to double check.

“Ciego”, the climax of the album, is like a sonic cement mixer. D-beats and blasts are slung in with prog death stylings and tech riffs and a terrible but wonderful din pours out the other side.  The discordance is such that there is no time to relax or try and undertake any other activity (including writing this cursed review) . The tempo changes and jerkiness render any “get into the groove“ moments obsolete.

Tumba de Carne have created a short scabby cacophonous mess that boxes your ears, kisses you on top of the head and then leaves you wanting more.

(8/10 Matt Mason)

https://www.facebook.com/Tvmbadecarne

https://lavadome.bandcamp.com/album/decatexis-perpetuo-altar