Nasty blackened filth here from the “corpse” that is Poland’s Trup. I was rather expecting this though having encountered the Warsaw based trio on previous EP Szmula and lockdown induced album Ke. Having come out of that to relative freedom the group sound as embittered as ever here and if anyone was expecting a lightning of mood on what I described as a “depraved filthy, glorious noisy bastard of an album” they should think again. Trup still don’t give much away here though. Although we can discover the initialised players are active in other projects such as Taxi Caveman and Black Tundra there are no clues as to what their songs are actually about simply carrying on numerically from previous releases. Here we have numbers 29-33 with the exception of number 32 being dispensed for the album title. Nie being simply “No;” negativity abounds.
Drumming hammers in without subtly bringing a bouncing and bruising noise as instantly as play is pressed. This goes on for a little while before harsh yapping snarls bark out vocally sounding like they are being spewed out in utter disgust at the state of things, whatever they may be. This is blackened and crusty with no smooth edges, the sound of harrowing turmoil and discontent. A guitar spirals out sharply piercing and some flailing slices cut the spaces in-between before the next ghastly sermon ploughs in. After having given us a destructive force with nothing in the way of mercy over the 1st couple of numbers 31 starts off with a different mindset and turns things on head with a melodicism previously unexpected. If anything, its depressive sounding post-metal that is the structure here and although it still very much gets under the skin the trio have definitely loosened up from the previous suffocating clamour. Not that it lasts for long as the savage vocals are back in the fray and the drums batter hellishly after a while. There’s some low grunts and shrill almost whistling screams amidst it all as everything is mangled and pulverised into scrapyard wreckage.
Having survived this Trup brood into the sludgy morass of the last couple of numbers bringing a real doomy slow beat to the fore. It’s no less torturous though and is equally as harmful in its protracted eviscerating morass. The yells from the vocalist are full of hatred and the listening experience is as nasty and vile as before. The monstrous conclusion number 33 at over 12 minutes in length is likely to fray the nerves of the unsuspecting casual observer encountering it by accident. It’s a gloomy and depressive slice of anti-life music set to have you in the pits of despair. Of course, this is not a criticism and for anyone who wallows in such bleak abandonment Trup have again hit the mark with a moody and expressive half-hour of despair and anguish. I just wish I knew exactly what it is that got them so pissed off in the first place!
(7.5/10 Pete Woods)
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