Funerot
Invasion From The Death Dimension
8.3
Synopsis:
“Bre-e-e-eathe, the Metal in the air! Fe-e-e-el, the power everywhere. Ta-a-a-aste, here’s a double dose - TO TAKE!! - a fix of POWER THRASHING DEATH!!!”
If you know the above referenced lyric, this is the album for you. If you don’t know the above referenced lyric, fuck you, go back to Thrash School and do your bloody homework.
Review:
Washington State’s Funerot have effectively breathed their fetid, toxic, spore-riddled breath into the husk that is my Thrash lung, and brought the beast in me back to life. It’s been a long time since a Thrash album has blown me away, and Invasion From The Death Dimension has done just that. In fact, I can count the number of Thrash albums from new bands I’ve bought in the last 10 years on one (middle) finger – Municipal Waste. Now I can add another bundle of joy to the warm bosom of my ancient Thrash Metal collection.
The fellers in Funerot have apparently given up on the rest of the world, crawled up into a giant Thrash womb, and existed solely on an umbilical cord dropping heavy doses of D.R.I., Whiplash, Tankard, Wehrmacht, Cryptic Slaughter, Laaz Rockit, destructive robot movies, bathroom cleaning solvents, beer, tinfoil, and massive amounts of trans-fatty soaked carbohydrates. Only a putrid diet such as this could spawn such a throwback, balls-out Thrash attack. In the scant 28 minutes that is Invasion From The Death Dimension, there is not one pubic hair’s worth of evidence linking this album to anything “new” at all. The album fits so snugly next to my Thrash albums of the mid-to-late 80’s, it’s fucking ridiculous, which is truly impressive considering the oldest member of the band is motherfucking 22.
Not only is the homage the band pays impressive, but the musicianship found on Invasion From The Death Dimension is topnotch as well. From start to finish the album boasts finely honed, razor sharp Thrash riffs, ensconced seamlessly within the solid, heavy walls of Maximilian D. Gore-man’s outstanding, bubbling Bass playing. The longer songs (nothing over 3:30 here folks) feature some solid breakdowns, which I certainly foresee causing random fist throwing in grocery stores, subways, classrooms, family reunions – generally any public place that has the misfortune of containing a person listening to this album through good headphones. By God, if you can find yourself standing still during numbers such as “The Man With The Megaton Mind”, “Death By Draino”, or the title track, “Invaders From The Death Dimension”, then you must be a goddamned lifeless Midwestern housewife watching Dr. Phil and eating Cheetos. Period. Also nestled cozily within the mayhemic attack is the beautiful acoustic interlude “Radioactivation”. This tune holds such a simple, sad little heart…it could easily bring a tear to the eye of any elderly European woman looking at the world through her tiny, filthy window. Things close perfectly (but perhaps too quickly) with the slowest, dirtiest, dirgiest cut of the album, “Aftermath”.
Probably the only drawback to Invasion From The Death Dimension is the album’s brevity, which is saying a hell of a lot. I simply don’t remember a time when I’ve heard an album that sent me charging faster to my closet to dig up my Thrash classics. Fans of the genre should be hauling ass to their ATM’s RIGHT-FUCKING-NOW.
