Brain Drill
Apocalyptic Feasting
8.1
Speed, people. Speeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed.
While most noteworthy death metal releases of late have been driven by the power of the lead, Brain Drill spits some serious, serious speed. Not mindless, blast-your-balls-to-boredom speed. No, this is sickeningly intricate, cripplingly technical, cohesively crackin', rockin'-ass velocity. What we have here is a massive blast of gorified fun.
The level of said fun is hinged on whether you're keen on hyperfuck tech-death (if you aren't, you should be), and are previously familiar with the exploits of Brain Drill. Those privy to their 2006 EP, The Parasites, are in for a bit of a letdown, as six of this album's ten tracks have been cut from its carcass and re-recorded. However, the million-and-a-half notes n' whacks on that exhibition could only be mentally recounted by Raymond Babbitt himself. As such, the existence of recycled tracks is a minor issue. Brain Drill's trepan isn't something that will remain embedded in your skull after the listening session has finished. But the band's tirelessly impressive nature renders catchiness and memorablity moot, and their astonishing level of power simply commands repeat listens.
Let it be stated that Apocalyptic Feasting is the absolute pinnacle of freakout deathnicality; the crushing dexerity found here will fuse the death metal community's collective cerebellum. Despite keeping the trigger pulled the entire time, these four dudes display a perplexing sense of dynamics. Each member steps up to the plate at the perfect time, dancing and meshing with each other in a 500 mph traffic-weave o' death; their interplay saves this from becoming an exercise in banal wankery. Vocalist Steve Rathjen keeps the rig on the road with a flawlessly executed screech/belch combo that finds a happy medium between an ultra-animated Corpsegrinder and a less-giddy Julien Truchan. Basically, if Odious Mortem had a head full of rageaholic endorphins, a superior arsenal of riffs, and, well, a pulse, they might sound like this. In reality, the band has dialed in nearly every cool aspect of the sub-subgenre and jacked 'em up to ridiculous levels.
One aspect where the band is lacking, however, is the lyrical content and imagery. Maybe there's some type of idiot savant juxtaposition here that is going over my head, but I really don't see the point of bestowing titles like "Swine Slaughter" and "Force-Fed Human Shit" onto mind-numbingly awesome works of musical art. I suppose it's an effort to tap the goregrind vein that runs through the album, but it's simply not eccentic or quirky enough to be humorous. This is the the only off-putting element of the album, but it's enough to hold the band back from creating the complete package.
Brain Drill is not a band that will pen a classic album; they'll never ascend to the DM throne. However, if this cannonball of cacophony is a precendent, they shall certainly be the princes of crazytech-but-snappy audio craziness. Apocalyptic Feasting gives that Spawn of Possession-esque stunner after it's over... the whole "What the fuck just raped my face, and why can't I remember any of it?" type of quizzicality. But it lends itself to many wash/rinse/spin/repeat cycles when the mood strikes. \It's kinda like getting Jager smashed and waking up next to a semi-sexy barfly. You can't totally wrap your head around what transpired, but you knew it was fun; and you'll definitely have another go-round when the opportunity presents itself. This is a hyperspeed blackout deathride, hangover-free.
Like death metal? Take this thing out for a night on the town.
