Blue Holocaust
Twitch of the Dead Nerve
6.1
A lot of music elitism, if not most, concerns supposedly having a sophisticated palette, developed to the extent that allows the listener to appreciate music that most people would dismiss as total tripe. Granted, this is a pretty generalized statement, as it also suggests that the music that's appreciated by the most people is somehow superior. Either way it goes, everyone's known someone that pretended to enjoy some CD made by a genetically defective horror writer from Cape Town, farting into a microphone and reading words out of the dictionary, or something equally as stupid. While Blue Holocaust don't come nearly as close to as ridiculous of a concept, I can see underground grind enthusiasts everywhere staking their claim on them as their new favorite band.
With production values that would only satisfy a band on Earache in 1988, Blue Holocaust tackles the now familiar genre of drum machine grind, only the sole member of this outfit adds a creative twist - there's horror movie samples, and it's unintelligible! Could it get any crazier? Yeah, I know, obviously Twitch of the Death Nerve isn't meant to push the boundaries of music or coax anyone into dropping acid, but like the entire genre of goregrind, which I enjoy immensely, this is fairly silly. So needless to say, the wall of distorted growls, the simple repetitive riffing, and the mechanical blastbeats are just about perfect for this style. These songs just take on the classic goregrind mentality and push it a little further, making it even more difficult to listen to than the bands like Repulsion and Impetigo that paved the way for this method. There's still excellent writing though, and a flawless use of an assortment of odd retro-sounding samples. I'm hoping some day, the man behind Blue Holocaust decides to somehow mesh that strange ominous 80's music into the unflinching grind. Given the style, it's hard to cite individual songs, but "Dancesteps on the Edge of a Razor" has an excellent hardcore/thrash break immediately, and "7 Orchids Stained in Red" has a cacophony of distorted growls that become overwhelming until you're released from their terrible grip. So while I understand the decision to keep this so under produced, hearing a song like "She Met Her Fate on a Cold NY Night" makes me reach for the volume nob to start torturing everyone in the neighborhood, until I angrily realize that no matter how much I turn it up, I'm not going to be able to hear it any clearer.
Released twenty years ago, this would easily be something hailed as a classic and sought out on Ebay for exorbitant prices. Probably when people read the words "drum-machine grind," they already have an idea on whether or not they're going to investigate further. With my admitted elitist mentality on shit like this, I'm fully aware that this isn't going to suddenly blow up and need multiple re-pressings. Keeping that in mind, anyone who's fond of the origins of grindcore, or modern mechanical grindcore acts have absolutely no reason not to own this.
