hands down, the best band i’ve listened to this year. sludge/technical/grind/doom. often a wall of noise that punches you right in the gut from the hellish title track, I Don’t Care Where I Go When I Die, to the crushing finish of Hospital Fat Bags, and the piercing emotion that explodes from tracks such as Slutmaker. It’s absolutely the best. on top of that the layout of the booklet is looks like one of lucifer’s art projects. Brutal band, check ‘em out. SEE THEM LIVE.
Metal Album Reviews[RSS]
coming from someone who loves grind and extreme music in all forms,
this is by far the best, most brutal, pissed off emotional release I have heard in a long time (since there ep “east”). the vocals are sick the riffs are insane and the experimental element is unreal. and the songs are long also, esp. for a grind album, they average from 4 mins. to over 6 mins long. overall one of the best extreme metal releases of the year.
Sounding like what ‘Bless the Martyr and Kiss the Child’ would have if Stephen O’Mally was twisting the knobs (well, minus a good bit of the breakdowns) or perhaps if Botch came from the swamps of Louisiana, ‘I Don’t Care Where I Go When I Die’ is as dense and noncommercial as metalcore gets. Though they have a bit in common with the rest of the Blackmarket Activities roster (Animosity, Ed Gein, From a Second Story Window) – the heavier, more intelligent riffs, not-too-clean-but-just-right production, and vocals that have a tendency to dabble in the more death realm – Gaza stands quite far above their aforementioned – if not utterly mediocre – peers. Perhaps it is the more sludge oriented sound complimented by the scattered Kurt Ballou-esque progressive parts (see the end of “Hospital Fat Bags”), maybe it’s the Hydra Head circa 2001 guitar sound? The idea of keeping the sounds a bit more on the midpaced side, not relying on all out speed every moment to keep things interesting (not at all sure why the term “grindcore” is thrown around so much, this record has absolutely nothing to do with the genre)? It could even be the fact that the vocals are strongly reminiscent of, ex-Norma Jean / current The Chariot frontman, Josh Scogin at his strongest. Whatever the reason, this is one of those records that should appeal to both the record buying masses as well as the jaded metalhead who would like something a tad different. At the very least, it beats the living hell out of recent releases by Job for a Cowboy, Ion Dissonace, and their ilk. A worthy listen.
!WARNING: HYPERBOLE TO FOLLOW.
this is the heaviest thing since Mare, which is quite an accomplishment. they have the same f’ed up melodic sense that makes it intensely emotional. except they grind it. which is awesome. even more awesome is the fact that they occasionally let the melody slowly impale you. (the end of ‘hospital fat bags’ for example)
there are also a few lyrics the really stand out for me: ‘dumber than a bag of hatebreed fans’ is pretty great to hear.
the highlight of the album for me, though, is a very satisfying expression of disgust for our “culture” which climaxes with a “seacrest out.” i think it’s in ‘hell crown.’ anyway, it’s amazing.
IF YOU ARE DISGUSTED BY THIS CULTURE’S BANALITY, HYPOCRISY, AND COMPLACENCY, BUY THIS RECORD. or just do it because it’s not corny.
A goat on the cover. I’m sold. I’m so easy. But this is not. Gaza is Dis-ease music. A+ for the flippant album title, especially considering they are from Utah. (Which I shall steer clear of, thanks Gaza!) The early eighteenth century term “Diabolus in Musica” (the devil in music) certainly lends credence to the whole abominable atmosphere of this ugly chunk of eeeeevil. Exploding in your ears at the outset in bursts of serrated tritones and detuned disharmony, this is probably the most genuinely frightening album I have heard since Today is The Day released Sadness Will Prevail. Death metal is probably a little too timid of an identifier for this band. I usually joke around with playing death metal or what scream you around my very sensitive and lady-like woman, but I know better with this album.
This music nourishes nightmares. Even the breakdowns sound like the harbingers of Gog and Magog; the two guitarists torturing ill shrieks from callously tapped fingers and twisted chords, the drummer trying to beat his kit into pulp, and the screamer making his point clear, even if most of it is incomprehensible, except for the track “Gristle” a stop start roaring..”Pray it’s malignant!” God I hope not! Its all very unnatural and hopeless. The only times of respite away from the the ear clawing screams of anguish, or the monstrously dissonant dual guitar scraping and slashing is when they slow down for a doom crawl, not really bringing the succor. I Don’t Care Where I Go When I Die is overwhelming to say the least, and if you haven’t been immersed in grind and filth for years, this is probably about as appealing as drinking the oily after-film from the bottom of a bucket of fish guts.
That said, this is for those who find that very thing delicious. The musicianship of all players is refreshing in their quest to find new permutations of bad and worse. The drummer thrashes his kit in constructing and deconstring cascades, off-timing his snares to create a jarring effect that settles in nicely with the rest of the cacaphony. Being that I am a guitarist, it is rather exciting to hear two guitarist make excellent use of a variety of intermediate to expert techniques, especially their multiple fingered chord tapping, and slides of evil and misdirection. As far as the vocalist is concerned, he needs to take a step back and really ask himself, is it that bad? I mean it must be. There is nothing in this record that would give you a conclusion otherwise. his lyrics are funny and disturbing, evoking images of rot and licentiousness in a world with no pity and less light. He also aims a few jabs at emo fans and apparently hardcore too. Not sure what its all about, I am out of the loop, but I am sure the kids kow what’s what. The bassist is buried a bit in the mix, but maybe because he’s tuned to like Z sharp or something.
I am pretty sure there is some riffage that may have been copped from Mr. Austin, but they tune down so low that the transposition renders said theft unrecognizable. And thats ok, because really, there is nothing new under the sun, and I believe it when Gaza proclaims they don’t care where they go when they die.