Bish, bash, bosh, blasphemy! That’s the short review and if you are looking for anything in the way of significant changes in the sacrilegious craft of this long serving USBM act you are not going to find them here. Historically heretical since 1990 albeit with time out for a decade or so, there has been none more god-bothering than drummer / vocalist Paul Ledney or as he likes to refer to himself here Mayhemic Slaughter of the Heavens. If you have caught Profanatica live as we did recently at Incineration Festival, you will be aware that both on stage and recorded there is absolutely nothing subtle or in the way of compromise found about their revolting brew of deathly-black metal. They have always been about the “shock” and leave many so called rockers who at any point in their career considered themselves thus floundering in their own poo. Music for Alice Cooper fans this is not and you are not going to find any born again members putting themselves up for anything but a baptism of filth here.
Ominous sounds rumble out the speakers before the first abrasive attack ‘Condemned To Unholy Death’ hones in. Destroyer of Holy Hymen (guitars) and The True Perversion of the Heavenly Father (bass) are on hand to grind and churn out a shit-shower of strings. The sound is abrasive and heaves in a volatile spew as Ledney hits things hard and gurgles away. It’s probably best the lyrics have not seemingly been printed and the song titles are at times enough to have their perpetrator cast down into the very pits of hell. Occasionally there is a brackish and bouncy punkish beat as on ‘The First Fall,’ providing absolutely nothing in the way of grace. One neat trick of losing the guitar and bass and then allowing them back in shows just how dense a sound they make. The music is not always a pummelling and coarse act of impenitence, things occasionally slow into slime-laden crawls through the sewers and coat you in all manner of inhuman waste, ‘Compelled By Romans’ is a prime example and just leaves you feeling nasty and in need of a thorough wash.
Despite the occasional tempo change those not of an extreme nature will probably find things a bit repetitive as this hateful doctrine blossoms forth and steams through its 3-minute mangled hymns. Vocally it’s a case of snarls and gargles with the occasional low grumble from our inverted pulpit preacher and there’s absolutely no denying his conviction. If you think ‘Wipe The Fucking Face Of Jesus’ with its sudden odd guitar sound unravelling is going to be the least likely song to charm a nun wait till you encounter ‘Cunts Of Jesus,’ on this Stations of the (very) Cross themed album. Some may say all this is not big and clever. Ledney may have just about pulled off rocking with his cock out (literally) in his formative years but now he has embraced his 50’s he’s no longer just a very naughty boy. Then again the same could be said about someone of similar age enjoying (if that’s the right word) and writing about this! If you survive till the end of final track ‘Division Of Robes’ you are actually rewarded by a bit of an ambient outro with celestial choral part, which actually sounds quite nice. Not sure what that’s all about, maybe it signifies the rise of hell and destruction of heaven, demons molesting penitents and skipping on their roasting entrails. That probably sounds like paradise to Profanatica and a good point to make our escape.
(7.5/10 Pete Woods)
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