Reviews: Goatwhore, Cabal, Jetski, A Wake In Providence (Reviews By Matt Cook)

Goatwhore - Angels Hung From The Arches Of Heaven (Metal Blade)

Contrary to what it might sound like, Goatwhore is not a blasphemous black metal band from Eastern Europe. The joy of this band, which formed in, of all places, Louisiana, is not only longevity (the four-piece formed back in 1997), but also their ability to adeptly meander through black, death and thrash metal in such a succinct way. Angels Hung From The Arches Of Heaven is Goatwhore’s eighth full-length to date and contains 12 songs which underscore the group’s propensity to excel at whatever style or genre they decide to latch on to. 

The party starts with the rollicking good time that is Death From Above, a right bouncy number. Born Of Satan’s Flesh masks its groove under a crusty, mud-caked mess. And The Bestowal Of Abomination’s tendrils of hooky music embrace you with the genuineness of a long-lost lover. The flip side of that rollicking good time is a penetrating, dreary sludgfest. The relentless pacing on Voracious Blood Fixation and the toe-tapper Ruinous Liturgy will activate delayed onset muscle soreness in your calves before you know it. 

In an age where there seems to be a new sub genre birthed on a weekly basis (hello, cybergrind), sometimes it’s fulfilling to listen to a band that can’t be pigeon-holed as easily as others. Goatwhore do follow a clear schematic on their decades-long trek of spreading disgust and destruction; but to singularly call them death metal, black metal or thrash metal dilutes the southern stalwarts’ success. 

Angels Hung… has all the makings of a well-rounded, jack-of-all-trade undertaking. It’s further evidence of Goatwhore’s authenticity and devotion to their individual style that’s best consumed without feeling the need to slap on a subgenre. 8/10

Cabal - Magno Interitus (Nuclear Blast)

Fuck your clean singing. Take your soothing melodies and shove it up your ass. Get out of here with that acoustic guitar. Thrashy death metal beasts Cabal don’t have time for anything that isn’t punishing, erratic and earth-shattering. Magno Interitus plays reminiscent of the band’s label’s name. 

The music is sinister in that the very sounds emanating from the speakers represent tangible, predatory behavior. If I Hang, Let Me Swing conjures cheeky, antagonistic volatility. Its wonky, distorting electronics compounds the threatening nature. Existence Ensnared is sizzly and zany. And even Insatiable, with its “melodies” sound troubled and pugilistic. Think of a ballad performed by a Siberian Greywolf. If by now you’re wincing at Cabal’s output, you’re probably on to something. 

Blod Af Mit is industrial noise terror. It’s weird. It’s fucking disorienting. And it’s hard to be annoyed by it since, before long, Exit Wound follows it up with throaty, pompous vocals. Like Vultures carries the baton of unsettling noises nestled between slaughter and doom. There is scant room for sentimentality or feel-good moments on Magno Interitus. Cabal blast out windows and shake foundations. They answer your smile with a dead-panned expression. At no time should you feel safe or secure. 8/10

Jetski – For The Family EP (Self Released)

Even though summer is over and the fall season with its cold morning and chilly nights is slowly taking the reins, Jetski came through with a mint EP which features three songs – each of which has its own fitting setting in which to be played. The Sheffield-based fourpiece concocted a bevy of intricacies in only 10 minutes. The tracks independently carve out clear-cut purposes. The opener to For The Family – Joey And Zoey – is warm and appealing, aided by a friendly melody and Charles’s peaceful singing. With a subtle tambourine, it also elicits lots of body moving and rounds out to be quite a busy song for only three-and-a-half minutes. This one can be played whilst sitting out back smoking a cigar and grilling burgers. 

Jack’s Song teases a ballad and allows a soft drum line to enter the mix. Though it picks up nicely and gains an edge in what is a wonderfully organized song, it has the makings of a track you share with your friends and/or sing and play along to sitting around a cliched campfire circle. The EP closes with Curbside, which again teases a ballad and eventually touches upon elements of post-rock, and conjures images of introspection, exploration and inquisitiveness. Spin this bad boy when lying in the grass at night looking into the universe and escaping the noise and light pollution of the bustling 21st Century. 

From the start, Jetski had in mind a mini-release which is as easy to consume as those burgers you should be grilling. No flashy filler or unguided tomfoolery will be found here. The group simply hunkered down, etched out a multitude of activity-guided soundtracks and conclude before you even have the chance to snap out of the trance the three compositions will undoubtedly lull you into. 8/10

A Wake In Providence – Eternity (Unique Leader Records)

As much as humanity would love to believe otherwise, too much of anything has adverse effects. Water intoxication is a very real thing. Sleeping in until 2 p.m. ends in a groggy morass of lethargic misery. And who hasn’t been relegated to the bathroom floor after a just-too-heavy bong rip, frantically panicking and feeling like their heart is imploding? Or is that just me? Let’s get to the point: A Wake In Providence, a more-than-serviceable deathcore act, have saturated Eternity with an over-abundance of symphonic elements. In fact, I struggled to find a track that didn’t mellow the harsh. 

Overall, the record is volatile in its intensity, but the 43 minutes dragged on as the deathcore agenda faded away in favor of more flashy electronics. The Horror Ov The Old Gods is unrelenting and doesn’t give an inch for most of the song. We Are Eternity follows up with slicing screams and muffled, soft-gargled vocals. Though not until the fifth song – The Hunt Of The Wraith – is a guitar solo and distinguishable melody uncovered. By that point, the aggression has been tamed. If that’s your cup of tea, though, all the power to you, because you’ll be handsomely rewarded. 

If you were hoping for a pound-for-pound world beater, this missed the mark. I shouldn’t be listening to an album for the first time anticipating when the next orchestral or symphonic section is going to rear its ugly head. As any caffeine fiend (95 percent of the population, if I had to guess) can attest to, just because pounding Americanos is satisfying at first, after the second or third drink, your heart is going to hate you and your eyes are going to disregard what your brain is telling them. It's not that the arrangements are crude or jangled; it’s the volume in which they’re brought out. 6/10