Fleshgrind - Murder Without End (2003)

Had Fleshgrind delivered an album that improved upon The Seeds of Abysmal Torment as much as that had vaulted past Destined for Defilement, then we might have been looking at our first genuinely worthwhile experience. Instead, Murder Without End is rather a step in reverse, seeking instead to inhabit the aesthetic space between the first two albums. That this ultimately proved to be their swan song is not surprising, since the wells of inspiration seemingly suffered from drought conditions and the band were at best writing a mixture of half-decent riffs in the vein of their sophomore, or incredibly mediocre note progressions that went absolutely nowhere; emphasis on the latter! I can't pinpoint exactly why, but whenever I see this album I think back on all those moderately uninteresting discs that choke up the Malevolent Creation discography; Fleshgrind were writing at a similar level of abuse, albeit with a slightly more guttural relish.

The novelties or new ideas here are reduced to a few piano intros and outros, a few chord textures that I don't recall from the older works, and one very surprisingly melodic tremolo riff sequence that erupts in the middle of the track "Displayed Decay", which wouldn't have been out of place on a power metal or melodic death record. Otherwise, the most I can say for Murder Without End is that its got a more accessible, approachable mix than either of the other albums. The guitars are denser with a lot of punch, but are very often belting out 2-3 note patterns that leech any possible interest or inspiration from the listener, since any death metal band with even a modicum of experience could compose 150 such riffs in a few jamming hours without thinking twice. This was the one studio album with Derek Hoffman on drums (he had played on that Stabwound Intercourse EP circa Gorgasm), and he implements a lot more straight blasting and admittedly drives much of the energy and enthusiasm; but without good songs, it's all in vain. Guitar progressions vary between entirely forgettable chugs to faster, vapid blast parts with tremolo picking that remind me of some of Krisiun's least inspired tunes. Certainly a bit more of a Napalm Death 'grind' undercurrent, but that's nothing to write home about when its very originators can rarely make heads or tails of the style.

The bass is audible, carving out a cleaner tone not unlike that on the debut, but other than the occasional line of interest its not sticking its neck out very far. Rich's vocals were less interesting as well; a series of grunts that sound like Barney Greenway communicating with pigs, with a few raspy, snarling rodents occasionally chiming in when accidentally stepped on by the bacon aspirants. Again, this definitely all sounds fine and dandy if you're looking for generic brutal death band of the 'oughts #1,768, but significantly less 'brutal' and promising than the cuts I was hearing on The Seeds of Abysmal Torment. The composition is more athletic and aggressive than Destined for Defilement, to be sure, yet so is the gunning of most motorcycles. Sadly, while it remains almost as tightly knits as its predecessors (each album is expanding about 3 minutes), there is just too little value here, and 'meh' lyrics and boring grinders like "Pistolwhipped", "Enslaved to My Wrath" and an updated rendition of their 1993 demo track "Holy Pedophile" do their best to ensure that some of the less obnoxious efforts here get muddled down to oblivion. A handful of worthwhile riffs against a whole lotta derivative and mundane friction. The story of many brutal death metal acts' lives.

Verdict: Indifference [5.25/10] (forever choking)

Fleshgrind - The Seeds of Abysmal Torment (2000)

While it wasn't a dramatic improvement, and there was a pervasive reek of 'keeping up with the times' populating the album, The Seeds of Abysmal Torment was a much needed step forward for Chicago's Fleshgrind in three important categories: musicianship, composition, and of course, brutality. The writing was far denser, punishing, and though I wouldn't dub it adventurous, it was clearly exploring more of the latent potential within its constituents. Arguably, the sophomore could have been an entirely other band. The riffing, hostility, and even the vocals aren't quite like Destined for Defilement, but the deviation is not so broad that they couldn't interchange the songs in a set list. No, this is simply a hallmark of growth for the Midwest murderers, and in truth it's the strongest album of their catalog, even if it doesn't quite distinguish itself from its influences and peers.

From the top down, this was a case of evolution into a more tense and busy entity which could compete with a lot of the younger brutal and technical death acts coming out of both the US and Europe. Still very much redolent of Suffocation, but there's also running parallel to American stompers like Internal Bleeding and Dying Fetus. The guitar tone is more textured. Ruddy and pungent, from the grinding progressions to the unusual and interesting breakdowns. It feels both filthy and claustrophobic, but the acrobatic chugging of Steve Murray ensures that there' no shortage of tempo alternation. The drums likewise are more condensed, with the toms and bass drums far more energetic than the debut. Note sequences often shift between low end grooves, pinches and squeals to flights of very surgical sounding death/thrash ("Monarch of Misery", or the wonderfully and aptly titled "Hogtied and Hatefucked") that puts me in the same head space that I was on Pestilence's debut, Malleus Malifecarum. Nowhere near as catchy, mind you, but the very presence of these passages is enough to keep the music from quickly stagnating. The rate of hit to miss guitar riffs is quite higher than Destined for Defilement, though the album is almost equally concise in its overall length.

Bass is still not a dominant force, but it's definitely deeper and contributes more to the overall aesthetic, which in itself is far more low end and slamming amidst the more aerobic guitar work. You can feel it constantly brooding and bumping along in the muscular murk of the percussion. Rich Lipscomb's vocals are also changed: his lower guttural is comparable to the debut album, but he's alternating this with a sustained growl that sounds like a less ghoulish John Tardy; and in addition, there are a lot more petulant little snarls cast into the mix to create a morbid schizophrenia. The pacing is pretty interesting throughout the album, ranging from an all out clusterfuck assault on the listener's senses and sensibilities, to simpler patterns that emerge; thrashing breaks, chunky grooves. Certainly this is an album that serves as another precursor to the vastly saturated, international brutal and slam death scene we know today, and I wouldn't be surprised to find this in the collections of many of the Russian and Indonesian bands who have been churning out such works of late.

Another advancement was in the lyrical material; even the sadistic "Hogtied and Hatefucked" and "A Legion of Illusions" were better managed than most of the comparable tunes on the debut, and in general the messages and imagery here are more matured and better 'arranged'. They didn't just feel like another garden variety Cannibal Corpse knockoff. Obviously the three years between the debut and this, as the band signed to the (largely underwhelming) Olympic Recordings imprint, were well spent in refining their sound. The Seeds of Abysmal Torment might not be a memorable album, but it was headed in that direction, and anyone sporting a hard on for classic 90s Suffocation or Crytopsy's None So Vile might at least want to hit this up once.

Verdict: Indifference [6.75/10] (imagine such lunacy)

Fleshgrind - Destined for Defilement (1997)

Fleshgrind was one of those 90s arrivals that I almost wanted to throw my support behind simply on principle, but then found the sentiment at odds with just how banal and ineffective their music was, not only in the long term, but after a mere few tracks of exposure. They seemed for all purposes like a humble group of guys doing what they loved, but despite Destined for Defilement's intriguing, H.R. Giger-like biomechanical cover art perversions, a decent moniker and logo, there was just nothing they spewed unto their genre that hadn't already been inseminated by far more interesting outfits. This debut had 'also-ran' smeared all over it, both lyrically and musically, and while Fleshgrind was not particularly awful at churning and chugging and exploring gruesome concepts, we'd already heard far better from bands like Cannibal Corpse, Cryptopsy, Suffocation and Deicide. Which would not be a problem if they were writing songs with riffs that dug into your flesh like the meat hooks that inspired so many of these bands' concepts. Which, sadly, they were not.

Destined for Defilement is essentially a poor man's None So Vile traveling at a more moderate speed and sharing its lane with Pierced from Within and The Bleeding. The most distinguished component throughout the brief 29 minute run time would be the guttural belching of Rich Lipscomb, which was more or less like a natural evolution of the Chris Barnes style into more brutal, amphibious territory. 'Swamps of the Mutilated' Lipscomb could occasionally dial this back to a more dry, Floridian bark, so there was actually a potential for some variation, syllabic lines shifting between arid and saturated intonation, but where a superior set of songs might have really supported and highlighted his performance, we are instead delivered vapid riffing structures that utterly fail to leave an impression. The real detrimental constant to Destined for Defilement is its inability to generate any sort of menace or excitement. It's not trailing along like a slug, but the overuse of mid-tempo, staccato chugging occasionally interspersed with older school tremolo riffing just seems like it was pulled off an uninspired blueprint. The riffs jar and crash into one another with little unity, and you might be able to snatch a few from one song and then transpose them into another and not notice a difference.

That's not to say that, by 1997 standards, this music was entirely generic or unwelcome. It obviously has yet to run its course, since a lot of today's lords of underground brutality are still working off the same blueprints, but there's very little flash or finesse to fill in the creative gaps evoked through many of these riffs. I'm serious when I say that it wasn't until the fourth track (of nine) on this album, "Sordid Degradation" where I felt that the guitar had written anything even remotely catchy, and even there it's pretty standard death/thrash without a concerted, memorable hook or evil melody. All of the instrumentation functions as intended, like a gang of tire-iron-wielding miscreants beating in the carapace of an automobile, but the composition is modular and ultimately insipid, with the note progressions lacking anything disturbing, dissonant or ominous. Sort of like some phoned in, post-shark jumping horror flick sequel that comes laminated in a frightening package, but very soon collects dust on your DVD shelf. A brutal bore, but a bore nonetheless.

Production is also not the forte here. The drums have the requisite level of double bass muscle and some sub blast acceleration, but the kicks feel like someone hammering away on a vinyl seat cushion with their feet, and the snares and crashing percussion feel overly polished and plastic. The bass playing is honestly not that bad when you can hear it, but it's too often subjugated by the prim punch of the rhythm chugging, and even when it cuts through, the tone is just too dry. Some heavier distortion there might have helped to offset the sterility of the rhythm guitar, which is also just too clean to really leave a dent. The sparse, frenzied clinical melodies that erupt also feel subsumed by household bleach or other chemicals; they definitely have a tint of the tone of Death's mid to late 90s progressive death output, which I was not always incredibly keen on, but then again they're not able to generate with riffs on a Schuldiner level anyway. On the whole, Destined for Defilement lacks power and intensity due to its introverted mix.

The lyrics weren't exactly the worst out there, but then they're really just a pastiche of subject matter and phrasing circa Cannibal Corpse, Mortician, and Obituary, with the usual misogynistic and necrophiliac focus, but never too disgusting or convincing. Nothing inherently awful of distracting, but nothing that gets a blood rise in any organ. In the end, it's difficult to think of Destined for Defilement as anything more than a coathanger-armed coattail-clinger to that stubborn wave of gore and brutality that thrived in an underground where many other metallic niches had dissolved in the 90s. It had its collectible shock value, and was pretty cool to look at, but in terms of depth or individuality it was just another in a herd of livestock being goaded along by the prods of inspiration that predated it by about 5-7 years. I've heard worse, but that's far from enough compulsion to revisit or recommend this.

Verdict: Indifference [5.25/10] (the swelling starts)