Review of Fleshgore - May God Strike Me Dead

As far as albums like the third release from Ukrainian annihilation squad Fleshgore goes, picking out missteps isn’t an easy thing to do when it comes time to break out the magnifying glass and talk some shit. This young three-piece was first brought to my attention a couple years ago with the promising Killing Absorption album which, in hindsight, pretty much laid down a blueprint of what was to come with their newest wicked endeavor, May God Strike Me Dead. All of the many positives of their second album have been intensified and tightened on this newest slice of turbulently grinding technical death metal, and while it hasn’t left its predecessor in the dust, the band must have been listening carefully to whatever helpful advice has been given to them over the past 2 years. Not only is May God Strike Me Dead a more mature album, it’s also a more coarse and violent effort overall, with the goal of doing nothing but eroding any nearby surfaces into powder.

A collision between some truly strenuous wrist torture, lumbering groove and expertly calculated time signatures, virtually every tune on this disc crushes with skittish riff patterns which are constructed, deconstructed, and recomposed cyclically alongside an abundance of sudden tempo changes. The momentum of the riffs alone is enough to handily carry atom bomb tunes like the schizophrenic “Greed” along at a staggeringly dynamic, frenzied pace, but the beauty of marching off-timed stompers like “Obtrusion” lies with the attention which is given to groove, and the layering of rhythmic textures in complex yet understandable patterns. “No Way Out” also breaks into a massive and pummeling non-metalcore breakdown, changing up the vocals and alterations of tempo at an exhaustingly merciless rate, and the tremolo flourishes which open the fuming closer “Twisted Reality” and recur as the passage continues effortlessly through precise alternating left/righthanded crabwalking, swirling blastbeats, and thickly fabricated staccato demolition to end the album on a dizzying, insidious note.

Beyond being just technically adroit and brutally agitating, May God Strike Me Dead is cohesive like the smothering consistency of freshly mixed concrete. The songwriting is impenetrably firm despite some shrewdly understated complexity disguised as barbarity. Whether they’re blasting along with vigorous precision, or systematically turning molten rock riffs into mountains of cauterizing groove, Fleshgore have assembled quite an exciting collection of fresh raw meat to dine upon with each new sitting revealing something new to feast upon. The production sounds professional and natural, at once clean, razor sharp, and heavy enough to warrant its own crash zone. The guitar tones are simply lethal, the bass has a really nice bold but sharp sound to it, and, for once, the drums don’t sound like windup teeth clattering across a linoleum floor. Go figure.

While I usually find the pig belching vocal method to be laughable under most circumstances in every high and low form, the multiple varieties of crazed and almost entirely indecipherable types of “singing” actually adds to the intensity of the disc instead making an “Animal Farm” soundtrack out of things. Fleshgore have unearthed one nasty pitbull of an album with May God Strike Me Dead, one of the most pleasantly heinous surprises I’ve encountered in weeks, maybe months. You’re going to have to find your own copy, because you’ll only get mine after you pry it from my clammy, decomposing hand, and I expect you to take note of this band soon because they’re certainly worthy of obtaining your focused attention now instead of later. What an abusive display.

Release Details

Fleshgore

May God Strike Me Dead

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