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Obituary - Darkest Day
Chad Bowar may beg to differ, but this is another in a long line of goddamn woefully mediocre Obituary records. Xecutioner’s Return (2007) showed brief signs of life, mostly in the Mystery Machine styled “art” courtesy of Andreas Marschall, but eventually motherfuckin’ flat-lined. Not since 1994’s World Demise has Obituary truly submitted a top-to-bottom solid program, and the band’s continuance to tinker with laughably bogus takes on “Hardcore” or the sort of “Needle-Rock” typified by Eyehategod rip-off drones, Sourvein, fits their stinky feets with concrete. Some of these choads hail from Gibsonton. Been there? I have. It’s Interzone’s inner core. Even fuckin’ Wikipedia dwells on its designation as a carnie destination; “they’ve even got a post office with a counter for ‘dwarves,’” quacks some Internets cuckold. Life drops anchor at River’s Edge Lounge & Marina, though, a wife-swapping, weekend warrior magnet as potent as they come. Rained way out of saltwater fishing, I spent nine hours draining flat draft and bottom-shelf whisky shots surrounded by midgets, morbidly obese twins, anglers of various shade and stripe, a pro white power negro, and a fleet of post-40 gearhead ladies clad toe-to-sagging tits in leather and Harley paraphernalia. One of the darlings, replete in Obituary tee, asked me why I reeked of pussy. It’s squid, honey. Squid. Been fishing. Or trying to fish until the sky fell. I asked her about Obituary. Did she still like ‘em? Hell yes. Did she still go see ‘em play out? Fuck yes. Did she buy their records? I just download ‘em off the Internet, kiddo. My position, summed perfectly. Darkest Day starts as it should, with the Bros Tardy sorting the dead. John Tardy still has the Mike Dean/Blaine “Fart” Cook vox down pat, and Don, while not the bitchwhipper he once was, is accomplished enough to garner play-along legion via YouTube, fatpants and coral necklaces included. “List of Dead” is fast, but a quarter of the speed of ___________ off Slowly We Rot. This is an aging crew, folks. They even ape the nasal tone hawked here and there by every wigger with a gothic script waistline tatt. “Blood to Give” is the H-nod, let’s-go-steal-more-copper-pipe spiel but rendered even less convincingly than a horde of “Nola” wannabees. It’s painful to witness. I still haven’t heard the entire track. In anyone’s book, a 13-track record with six great tunes is a fuckin’ failure. Darkest Day is a fuckin’ failure. Do I still like Obituary? Hell yes. Will I go see them play out? Fuck yes. Do I buy their records? No. I just download ‘em off the Internet, kiddo. [Stewart Voegtlin]
Obituary
type: reviews
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lhp029,
river's edge,
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rotten crotch,
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i don't care,
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That said, there are some bands which continue to grow and experiment which can hold my interest. Entombed springs to mind. I buy everything they put out. Not because I know it's going to be good, but because I know there will be something different. Their old stuff had such a profound affect on me that I feel close enough to them to take an interest in current output. They would have made more hardcore fans happy by rehashing their first two albums to this day. Had they done that, I would've quit buying them the same day I quit buying Obituary records.
I, however, am that type.
Love Florida, especially the Ft. Lauderdale airport bar, The Beachfront Too [sic].