As shown by their previous trio of albums, listening to Russian brutal death metallers Aborted Fetus is a savage and uncompromising experience which you either embrace or flee from. New and fourth album Private Judgement Day is no exception, the ten track pestilential slab of sonic corruption a pernicious and brutal onslaught. Following its acclaimed predecessor Goresoaked Clinical Accidents of 2012, the new album continues the presence and sound found through previous releases which to be honest does not carve out any dramatically new ventures for band and genre, but with discomfort an imposing embrace and barbaric seduction a healthy toxicity, the album is a tantalising proposition for all extreme death metal fans.
As their 2010 album Fatal Dogmatic Damage, the new sonic scourge is released via Comatose Music and engulfs the senses in scarring riffs, vicious rhythms, and swinish vocals. Mercy is undoubtedly not in the vocabulary of the band, the album even in its ‘quieter’ moments unleashing pure corrosive venom, and from the first full breath of opener Savage Dominance, the quartet engages in bestial rabidity. The first song emerges from a cinematic drama, a visual plague engulfing the imagination before the band explodes out of the landscape with pure sonic predation from the guitar of Alexander “Meatgrinder” Chernishev. Courted by the heavy malevolence of bass from Roman Kozodoy and the rhythmic antagonism of Andrew, the insidious vocal delivery of Alexander “Implant” riding their onslaught with primal vitriol, the track is a swift and punishing thorn in the senses.
The strong start is just as violently followed up by Necropolis Demography and Garden of Kidney Stones, the first charging head long through the ears to scorch the senses before switching gaits with a slower rapacious tempest and then returning a ferocious speed into its again brief stay. Most songs on Private Judgement Day offer a fleeting fury in length but make up for it in intensity and vehemence. Its successor prolongs the hellacious suffering with its gore encrusted rampage of synapse flailing rhythms and flesh skewering riffing whilst the vocals drain its creator of every ounce of bile.
Fuck In a Pesthole alternatively rages and stalks thoughts and emotions, drums an arsenal of severe bait and guitars an acid spewing rankling of the imagination. The track like the album arguably offers no real surprises but feeds genre needs with skill and sonic poison before passing the creative dagger to the excellent title track. Opening with a Saw like sample of individual punishment, the track slowly unwinds its murderous intent and incendiary guitar coaxing. Eventually the beast inside cannot be held back and the song turns into another tirade of blistering rhythmic cruelty matched by guitar spite and air depraving vocals. Providing greater enterprise and adventure to its longer stature, the song is a notable peak on the album even if leaving on an unsatisfying fade out.
The pair of Malignant Pregnancy and Gastronomic Confession suffocates the senses all over again in their similar but distinctive inhumane guises whilst Brown Totem offloads a brawl of mentally spearing sonic atrocity off of a great cinematic keys sculpted intro. The third of the trio emerges over time as a strong moment, its breath finding a restrained but certain variation from the others and an almost gloating swagger to its sadistic incitement.
Guinea Pig makes another impressive scar on the album, its virulent groove spawned riffing and gut wrenching vocals a magnetic slavery to the emotions within another rhythmic bombardment. Its impressive assault is matched by final track Morning Inferno, the song an equally harsh and destructive slice of savage enjoyment. They both provoke a richness of satisfaction to match and push further that of the album. It is a release which maybe does not go far enough to truly ignite the passions, its sound as expected from the band and comparable to the likes of Disgorge and Devourment, but undeniably it pleasingly delivers brutal death metal in its rawest exacting form. Private Judgement Day is not a classic encounter and has some issues with production of the drums, which at times just distract with the strong tinny snare sound, but it is nevertheless thoroughly enjoyable, in a masochistic kind of way.
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