Ethmebb – La Quête du Saint Grind


The band’s Facebook profile tags their sound as epicleptic power death / progressive metal; a description which pretty much does sum up the anarchic fun of the Ethmebb if still leaving their imagination short changed. Their music is crazed, it is drunk on almost schizophrenic adventure, and at times it certainly leaves the imagination intoxicated but as shown by new album La Quête du Saint Grind, it is also a myriad of flavours, skilfully sculpted, and downright fun.

Apart from emerging in 2012, apparently from “the still-smouldering ashes of Grindcore band Ethmeb”, there is little more we can tell you about the Paris hailing quartet but then again their debut album does all the talking. Wrapped in the fine artwork of Nicolas Dubuisson, the release swiftly makes a potent impression, first track Tathor, l’Echalote de ses Morts soon feeding and adding to the intrigue already sparked by its cover.

Opening up a tale of a mighty warrior and his adventures as he tries to get back his Grind stolen from him “so he can get laid again”, the starter is an atmospherically suggestive, melody caressed instrumental. It is ‘similar’ to many imagination stroking starts that metal and progressive releases seem to hold but a vibrantly pleasing one, its more straight forward body a deception to the mania to follow.

ethmebb-album-artwork_RingMasterReviewrvbThat creative ‘insanity’ is uncaged through Lost my Grind. Riffs rifle the senses immediately, their enjoyable invasion soon joined by the dawning of melodies and floating harmonies as wiry grooves entangle the progressively nurtured blossoming of the track. A tenacious blend of power and death metal with that progressive nature envelops ears though it is only part of the picture as symphonic elements merge with grouchily aggressive and subsequently blackened essences, not forgetting various other unpredictable twists of fun. The vocals of guitarist Rémi Molette are a guttural trespass enjoyably tempering and complimenting the melodic quest of his and Victor Tunidjah’s guitars, their sonic web radiant and evocative within the epic nature of the song.

It is an excellent start soon eclipsed by next up Orlango Blum. From caressing harmonies it surges through ears with cantankerous riffs and majestically flourishing keys. The bass of François Santenoff throbs provocatively in the midst of the enticing tempest as the rapier like swings of drummer Damien Baissile pierce the folkish lined melodic death canvas. There is a touch of Trepalium to the song, 6:33 too, but quickly it stretches its already riveting tapestry of sound and imagination into something irresistibly unique and compelling. Melody soaked passages are oases in the storm yet every imposing second is a conjuring of raw aggression, creative ferocity, and seductively bedlamic enterprise.

The warrior’s quest continues through GPS: Gobelin Par Satellite and A la recherche de la découverte de la quête pour trouver le Saint Grind, the first a thrilling mix of the raw folk ‘n’ roll of Ensiferum and the creative psychosis of Carnival in Coal involved with plenty of other strains of imagination while getting involved with a great array of clean and dirtier vocals. Its successor is just as eclectic, from an acoustic stroll weaving a colourful intrusion of extreme and melodic endeavour all bound in an unhinged devilry.

It is fair to say that the Ethmebb sound is not going to connect with those only hankering for straightforward metal but for an appetite for creative boldness bordering on the meshuga; it is manna for the ears as proven yet again by next up Pirates of the Caribou. Concussive in its touch, promiscuous in its flavours, the folk/power metal fusion roars with drama and prowls with venomous intent, guitars spinning another inventive web as vocals anthemically unite and melodies swagger with boozy spicing. Its ebb and flows in intensity are just as masterful and alluring, as too its aggressive invention and multifarious nature.

Bruce Lee mena l’Amour brings the release to a close, the track probably the most loco of the lot though smouldering in persuasion initially before growing into its inventive skin with every passing minute to heartily convince. With a growing theatre of sound it is a fine end, though listen out for the Pryapisme like hidden track, to a thoroughly enjoyable and impressive debut album from Ethmebb and the beginning here to a greedy appetite for their insanity kissed world.

La Quête du Saint Grind is out now and available through

Pete RingMaster 01/02/2017


Haut&Court – Troffea

H&C_RingMaster Review

As 2012 turned into its successor, a thrilling senses stripping violation was unleashed by French noise spewers Haut&Court. It was their debut EP La Vie, a fury of sonic magma which had us declaring it “one of the most promising and rewarding releases in a long time” whilst cowering in the corner. Now the Strasbourg band has released its highly anticipated successor in the brawling violation that is Troffea. All the potential and qualities that marked the first Haut&Court onslaught have been realised and pushed masterfully on in their new twelve track animus. It is nasty, vicious, and physically and emotionally painful but equally with whiplash causing grooves and at times a truly ravenous swing to its body, the release is an essential beating all raw thrash, violent crust and hardcore punk, as well as rabid noise and grindcore fans should be looking at devouring.

Formed mid-2012, the threesome of vocalist Arnaud Diemer, guitarist Bernard, and drummer Ravindranth Saint Jean quickly whipped up potent attention with La Vie, its unique tempest of sound a corrosive and merciless confrontation bred on striking invention. Now a quartet with bassist/vocalist Benjamin ‘Merko’ Simon and guitarist Bernard ‘Skud’ Zurletti alongside Diemer and Saint Jean, Haut&Court has dug with new zeal deeper and explored further into their imaginative hostility to conjure a creative rage rippling with contagious enterprise and virulent invention with the invigorating sonic abrasion they are already renowned for. Troffea startles and abuses, savages and seduces as the band weaves a host of styles into their unbridled aural rancor. It is a dance for the apocalypse, a perpetual festival caked in destruction and crippling ferocity swinging alluring creative hips that invite all to partake in its revelry.

cover_RingMaster Review     Troffea opens up its malicious charm with Sea of Shit, band and song initially immersing the listener in thin but intrusive sonic smog from within which hefty beats and swirling grooves spring their raw tempting. Quickly, as the bass of Simon spreads its hearty malevolence, the raw vocal squall of Diemer brings distinctive ire to the already infectiously imposing bellow of sound and spite. It is a minute and a half which ravages and incites the body, a thrilling infection of sound and emotion putting the imagination and appetite in the mood for contagious war.

The following Putin continues in similar vicious vein, its individual tsunami of intensity loaded with catchy bait. A hardcore wind roars through sound and vocals to buffet the listener but its impact is perfectly tempered by the fiery grooves and rhythmic enticing which equally takes no prisoners. Of course this is not going to be for everyone, the whimpering behind as these words are cast evidence, but if the flavours mentioned above hit the spot, lustful greed is the swift and sure reaction, and only gaining pace and ardour as Caligari emerges from an earthy bass lit shadow to spin a demonic and intoxicating web of sonic bedlam pierced by technical prowess, searing grooves, and brain damaging beats. The song is an infestation, every aspect despoiling the senses, seeping under the skin, and laying a scourge on the psyche for pure pleasure.

Meursault provides no let up straight after, even as guitars cast a venomous melodic trail within the excruciating storm, the track is bestial as its charges through and crawls over the listener with open antipathy for all. It also confirms the great unpredictability and often understated but constant imagination and creative ingenuity frequenting each track. With a Coilguns like cacophony ripe with twisted slithers of grooving and acidic sonic tang, 1518 straight it is determined revelry in the face of punishing adversity; its bedlamic drive almost dervish like in energy and intent whilst Ostinator is molten extreme metal bent and brutally coaxed into another unique and grievous Haut&Court punk assault; both tracks offering their own impossible to predict and easy to enjoy trespasses.

To be honest every track within Troffea carries those rewarding qualities, no moment ever less than open exploration or offering respite in breath-taking adventure, the outstanding Chosta alone, debilitating grindcore whipped proof scintillatingly backed by the seriously bruising and tenaciously busy Hienes. One of the longest tracks on the album at three and a half scorching minutes, it is a jungle of barbarous rhythms and predatory bass animosity with vocals to match, a torrential sandstorm of toxic guitar enterprise equally helping it ignite the passions with ease.

The salacious prowl of the doom soaked Swing comes next unleashing another raw avenue and depth to the Haut&Court songwriting to bring more unique diversity to the album, its ruinous presence as much cerebral as physical. Though the track admittedly does not quite spark the same richness of ardour as elsewhere, it gives potent food for thought as to where the band may go next, though time to think comes later as swiftly the exceptional Feed the Fat with its funky savagery ignites the lust before Goetz spills its harshest grudge led by undulating hostility on the listener, more than likely leaving them in the fetal position.

Completed by the gang brawl of JMLP, a warring anthem to shade most others, Troffea is simply superb. All the great things of La Vie have been intensified and twisted into new tempting, then aligned to a broader and richer but no less blisteringly vehement proposition. Haut&Court is a band to be feared or loved. We choose the latter; time for you to decide…if you dare.

Troffe is out from October 1st on download and vinyl @

Pete RingMaster 01/10/2015

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RazorRape – Orgy In Guts

Bandphoto Studiocrew_RingMaster Review

Sure to split as many opinions as it will ear drums, the new album from Swedish metallers RazorRape is one riveting horror show of visceral intensity and sonic pestilence rapped in carnivorous grooves and a vocal delivery bred from the fiercest wildlife. A fusion of death metal and gore grind further loaded with a creative devilry best described as an aural equivalent of a Hieronymus Bosch painting, Orgy In Guts sees the Malmö duo of drummer/vocalist Martin Schönherr and guitarist David Mauritzon dripping blood, sex, and mayhem from every savaging masquerading as songs. It quite possibly is the band’s finest moment; certainly it is their most compelling, starting immediately with the outstanding Illustrious / Robert Zimmermann created cover wrapping its torturous landscape.

From opener Bonesaw Facefuck, band and album descend on ears and psyche with brakes locked off, the track unleashing a violent tirade of rabid riffs and corrosive rhythms. It is soon breeding increasingly enticing if senses searing grooves whilst vocally Schönherr spills his guts, though as hinted in the song and more inventively across the whole of the album, there is a rich and powerfully pleasing diversity to his delivery which at times even outshines the musical variety on show. Lyrically who knows, words all come out as a pestilential torrent of texture and sound. We cannot even say if it comes in Swedish, English, or Mongolian but we can testify it, as the ravenous sounds, just gets under the skin to spark ears and imagination.

The impressive start continues through both A Beast of Human Waste and Holy Gory Glory Hole, the first a predator from its first breath and growl. Staggered swings and riffs merge to share the assault with all out ferociousness across an ever developing scenery, the track inventively mixing up the carnal savaging before its successor thrusts the listener into a sense stripping, flesh devouring, sonic wind-tunnel. It too is unafraid to fling a tangy groove into the tempest as well as jumble up its gait and fury to fine effect.

RazorRape - OrgyInGuts COVER_RingMaster Review     As with numerous similar genre offerings, there is a surface similarity which often cloaks the individual character of some songs but as incitements like Spinal Cord Impalement and Vomit Drenched In Mucus reveal, let the ravishments consume, and at times numb, whilst delving deeper into the slamming turbulences only leads to the discovery of generally unique identities. Both tracks offer such proposals, they as next up Choking On Feces and indeed the album’s title track, sharing many traits within their unbridled riff driven hostility but equally uncage plenty of twists vocally and musically to set each aside of another.

To be honest at this point RazorRape have got the job done in drawing plaudits and appetite but they only dig deeper, the previously mentioned song Orgy In Guts an offal strewn bloodbath of sound raising the ante before Black Flood Of Body Fluids swings its thick bones and pus spewing animosity in a rancorous swagger complete with sonic and acidic corruption. As great as they are both have to submit to the glory of the outstanding Bitch Butcher Boogie, a song best described as Cajun grind. Throwing itself on to ears with a rockabilly groove aligned to country bred melodic flames which further erupt within its nefarious shuffle, the track provides two minutes of dirty, insidious, and mercilessly addictive primal depravity.

     It is a pinnacle few tracks can match though the likes of the breath-taking, energy eroding Grinding The Dead and the just as hellacious but even more merciless and crushing Rampage In Red give it a more than fair try whilst Rot In Excrement crawls over the remains with its scourge of sonic malevolence and cancerous devilment.

Lady Gagball comes equipped with sonically toxic but contagious grooves which wind around a leering wall of rhythms and riffs. There is great bedlam to the song, especially with the unpredictable and psychotically varied delivery of vocals, which helps provide another major moment upon Orgy In Guts before Hey Whore, Let’s Gore storms over and chews up the barricades with its addictive violation of body and soul.

The album closes with Tennis Racket God, the only track which does not quite work for these ears, RazorRape offering a classic metal spawned finale with relatively clean vocals and melodic tempting. It is a fair enough offering which is easy to go with but within its first half minute a longing for the return of the sonic bloodletting and swinish/ throat blistering squeals and growls were steering reactions.

Nevertheless it cannot derail a thoroughly punishing and enjoyable trespass on the senses from RazorRape, Orgy In Guts providing grind in any shape it comes something to get down and relentlessly boogie with.

Orgy In Guts is out now via Rotten Roll Rex @

RingMaster 17/07/2015

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Unrest – Grindcore


If there is one perfect example of something doing and providing what it says on the tin then it has to be the debut album from US aggressive fury Unrest. Called Grindcore, the twelve track ravishment is the genre in full voracious assault, a vicious and hostile incitement as raw and uncompromising as it is virulently compelling. It and the band has a sound which is stripped bare of all unnecessary deceits, a proposal revealing the raw heart of the songs and inspirations breeding their fury and voice. It is an incendiary persuasion embracing caustic vocals and a primal passion, and one of the year’s mightiest insatiable roars so far.

The album has been one long awaited and highly anticipated offering, its origins going back to 2006 when vocalist/guitarist Steve Jansson and drummer Chris Grigg unhappy at the demise of Nasum, decided to try writing their own grindcore thickly inspired by said band. They soon enlisted friend and bassist Brooks Wilson and produced a horde of songs, played numerous live shows, and recorded their debut album in 2011. It was an offering never released, the band deciding it would need to be heavily recorded at some point in the future. Other projects and opportunities came up for members in the meantime, Grigg continuing with black metal band Woe which he founded in 2007, whilst Jansson and Wilson went on to found TrenchRot, Crypt Sermon, and Infiltrator. Last year the original mixes to the album were re-discovered and found to be usable. New vocals were recorded that summer, followed by the album’s new mixing, and now via Unspeakable Axe Records, Grindcore sees the cold light of day, and in return gives us a merciless snarl.

unrest cover     As soon as opener We’re Calling You Out unleashes its rage and sonic ire, thoughts of Nasum, as intended, surge forward, as do hints of bands like Napalm Death, but equally and continuing over the rest of the release, there are plenty of new essences and blistering invention which makes it so much more than a homage to its inspiration. The first song slips in on a piercing sonic lance of pain, threatening and gripping attention ready for its subsequent forty seconds or so of grindcore toxicity. All three members bruise ears in their individual ways, rhythms a hellacious onslaught whilst the guitar singes the senses. The infernal raging led by Jansson’s vocal squall continues into You Take and beyond, the second song battering ears with a muscular rhythmic intent from its first breath, inviting a carnivorous bassline and tone within the next, and casting a rabid assignation between it and the psyche thereafter. The bass grooving is pure predation, equalled by the furious scourge of guitar enterprise and its own grooved tempting, but ultimately the track is a malicious conquest of senses and emotions.

The seriously brutal Inaction, as well as the following grievous violation posing as Quit raises the ante and intensity of sound and pleasure. The first is a riveting tsunami of spite and rancor which merges sheer unbridled savagery and slow venomous stalking into one addictive raging. Its inhospitable hardcore tendencies only add to the gripping persuasion whilst its successor is simply bestial in tone and aggression, carrying a rancor which makes the brutality of its predecessor almost lightweight in comparison. Once more the trio toy with gait and ideation within an intensive tsunami, never deviating too far from its core rampage but bringing plenty to challenge expectations and ignite the imagination. The track flows straight into Protest Culture, though it is no simple continuation but an individual torrent of musical bad blood bred from the same inventive and instinctive grudge.

Through the tangy and provocative, almost doomy terrain of Faith Is A Hearse, the thrash/death tirade of Anything To Shock, and the swaggering violence of Nothing (That’s All You Have To Give), band and album uncage further creative adventure, merging new stirring flavours and spilling thicker antipathy across the individual grudges. Each offers a new twist in sound and invention within the album too whilst still flourishing in that Nasum inspired base camp, and all leave ears and appetite greedier, a hunger Identity In The Internet Age and Consumption feed with their respective blackened hardcore ravaging and thrash fuelled rabidity. Both are also virulently contagious as they bruise and scar the senses with their ruinous appetites.

The album comes to a formidable close via firstly the exhausting and sonically scalding False Brotherhood and lastly with the rhythmically addictive and antagonistically crabby Drown, and though neither quite matches what came before, both bring a fine slab of delicious nastiness to create a thoroughly enjoyable close.

There are some tracks upon Grindcore which hit the sweet spot more than others but all impress and prove the long wait for the album, indeed a release from Unrest, was really worth waiting for. Hopefully the band can remain an on-going provocation hereon in with more sounds bred in thrilling and pungent toxicity.

Grindcore is released on CD March 24th via Unspeakable Axe Records @

RingMaster 24/03/2015

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Nervous Impulse – Time To Panic

Nervous Impulse Band Photo

Even the most battle hardened grind fan might burst into cold sweats during listening of Time To Panic, the new album from Canadian sonic assassins Nervous Impulse, but equally they will bask in the rewards of one hellacious and viciously compelling treat. The fifteen track fury is pure aural violence yet has an addictive character and contagious underbelly which lures you back time and time again into its excruciating bedlam. It has few charms to lure anyone with passions lying outside of death grind it is fair to say but for those with the right appetite, band and album are destructive manna.

Formed in 2007 by drummer Yan Chamberland (ex-Empathy Denied/Obscene Crisis), Nervous Impulse was soon stirring up sweat and tears with their ferocious sounds and debut album Enough for Dementia in 2009. With a line-up completed by vocalist Eric Fiset (ex-Empathy Denied/Obscene Crisis) , and guitarists Robert Guimond and Vincent Malo, the Montreal band swiftly drew potent and praising attention with the release. On its inception Chamberland had a clear vision of the band’s intent, “to produce the most insane and destructive musical achievement he could ever imagine in his extreme musical mind.” Enough for Dementia successfully went a long way to achieving the aim though hindsight now shows it was merely a starting point for greater hostilities. Live too the band left no one standing without support, bringing fans to their knees and bliss with shows which probably should have carried a health warning, much like Time To Panic. Line-up changes saw bassist Felix  Bourcher and guitarist Bruno Mercier join the band before in 2013  Nervous Impulse signed with Nova Scotia based label Blast Head Records who now uncage their latest pestilential treat.

Recorded again with Hugues Deslauriers, who worked on their debut, Time To Panic opens with the bedlamic Intro before tearing out senses and psyche with Oil Spills. A battery of riffs and beats pummel from the first breath whilst vocals are a tirade of squalling rage. Whatever they are venting about who knows but there is no escaping their malice and rancor even within the strenuous winds of the sonic tempest. It is not all sheer violence though as grooves come with a virulent contagion and rhythms despite their insidious nature, are instinctively anthemic. The track is simultaneously insufferable and infectious just as the following Prorogued Democracy, an even more brutal and noxious confrontation. Gutturally swinish vocally and with an inhumane swagger, the track lurches with addictive magnetism as it tears the senses asunder with rapier swings of the drums and violates with carnal grooves amidst searing sonic enterprise. There is no Nervous Impulse - Time to Panicsense, as across the whole album, of what is coming next or from what direction but whilst whimpering in sore bliss, the hunger for more overrides the suffering.

Both the visceral carnage of Syrian NATO Meat Grinder and the toxic antagonism of Wing Clipper keep ears and imagination enthralled, both with individual characters working from a similar template, as most songs to be honest. They are soon spreading unique infestations of sonic abuse and rhythmic vehemence deep into the psyche, the latter of the pair developing a delicious bestial groove from which a melodically cast antipathy squirms whilst inviting richer involvement from its victim.

The insidious enthralling reflections of Nostalgic Memories, a track with more twists then a nightmare of slinkies, sets down a new plateau for the album. It is a web of varied vocal expulsions and tantalising grooves relentlessly bewitching the senses whilst the album’s following brief title track is sheer pain, and totally ravenous much as 9 Meals to Anarchy-Riot Solves Everything which follows and My Right to Medicate straight after. The first of the pair savages with drooling riffs and covetous grooved intent, every second and grunt an iniquitous temptation whilst the second is smog of evil and corrosive tenacity. For every tsunami of malignant noise upon the album though there is a whirlpool of fascinating invention and unpredictability, stronger in some than others but always working away seducing as impressively here or again in the barbaric onslaught of Eclipse of Personality with its rhythmic enterprise and predatory imagination.

As the heavy-duty malefactions of the deceptively catchy Overwhelming Positive Vibe, the aurally fearsome The Last Call, and the punk brawling of The Neighbor’s House Is on Fire come and go, thoughts and emotions continue to be buffeted and incited, the middle of the three especially gripping with its excellent bass endeavour. The final one of the trio is a hardcore/grind bred fest of hate and bad blood offering more diversity to the enmity of the album.

Completed by the excellent Dead Jeremians 2014 with its blood soaked twang and a fine cover of Vexed from Agoraphobic Nosebleed, Time to Panic is grind at its insatiable and creative best, and certainly in its most addictive form. Technically too, and at times hidden by the sheer erosive turbulence cast in songs, the band is a striking and impressive proposition. It is easy to understand the buzz around Nervous Impulse listening to their second album, but not so easy to remove the ringing in the ears and the bad dreams it inspires.

Time to Panic is available now via Blast Head Records @ and

RingMaster 11/02/2015

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Bind Torture Kill – Condamné


Stalking, violating, and corroding any sense of safety in ears and psyche, Condamné the new album from French metallers Bind Torture Kill (BTK) confirms there is a group of serial sonic predators out there which know how to seduce and abuse with relentless ferocity. The successor to the band’s self-titled EP of 2013; BTK’s debut album creates a pestilential scourge bred from hardcore, death metal, and grindcore. To that though the band loads in grooves and hooks which entice and reassure whilst the rest of their sound is stripping senses bare and flailing emotions. It is a proposition destined to send a great many running but equally incite a new masochistic passion in just as numerous souls.

Formed in 2007, the Lyon hailing BTK emerged with an instantly confrontational sound sculpted from the intent to “practice a darkened, raging, violent music.” The first few years saw instability in the bass department as the band honed and evolved their increasingly distinct and intrusively oppressive sound and presence. The early weeks of 2013 saw the unleashing of the previously mentioned EP, whilst the latter months of that year brought the departure of another bassist from the ranks. From this point deciding to continue as a trio, the founding members of vocalist Olivier Alexandre, guitarist Yann Alexandre, and drummer Benjamin Garçon undertook numerous shows which confirmed the new set-up was just as potent and brutal as ever before settling down to start recording Condamné last March, a self-released fury now setting its rage upon the world.

It opens with Labyrinthe de Mort and instantly a sonic brewed noise is engulfing ears as inciting rhythms gather in the background before bursting through with a tirade of composed but malicious riffs and searing, spicy grooves. Immediately there is contagiousness to the threat and rancor of the track, which rather than tempers the raging violence of the song seems to incite it to greater antagonistic intent. As discovered across the whole of the album, band and songs are also unafraid to juggle and twist things in gait and intensity, never letting the listener off the hook but certainly constantly giving them fresh food for thought and fascinating hostility to brave.Cover Front

It is an impressive start with the squalling ire driven tones of Olivier Alexandre a merciless abrasion within the equally volatile maelstrom of sonic and rhythmic vindictiveness, a tempest matched by the enthralling Bain de Sang. Again the heart of the song is violent but the textures and scenery it employs as inventively gripping and tantalising as it is destructive. There is a striking technical craft and flirtation to the band’s music which is just as potent as the black hearted tsunami driving it, this track superbly epitomising and embracing these strengths as does the following Abattage and even more so the album’s title track straight after that. The first of this pair opens with a brutal smothering of the senses through raw riffs punctuated by cancerous chords and rhythmic swipes before broadening into a seriously testing climate and landscape of creative tenacity. The grindcore bred new Evisorax album offers one of the most cyclonic storms in a long while and Condamné in its own unique design easily stands beside it with songs like this. The second of the pair similarly prowls and courts the senses, inviting and transgressing their defences simultaneously. Vocals and drums are insatiable as they vent their anger soaked angst and sinew moulded antagonism whilst the guitar of Yann Alexandre weaves a tapestry of imaginative enterprise and furious provocation through melodic invention and flesh scorching turbulence.

Bestial is exactly that, as the album an uncompromising primal assault but again binding its bad blood with infectious grooved tendrils of temptation and short hook lined scythes of unpredictable adventure. Ferocious, fast, and at times sonically feral, there is plenty within the outstanding track’s bluster which almost soothes the wounds as they are savagely incurred, a technical almost mathcore lined exploration around tempestuous structures making for riveting enticement.

The closing La Faucheuse takes its own route to capture imagination and emotions. Its haunting melodic start is bound by inescapable hostility but creates a magnetic slip into dark depths and cold caustic ambiences for a compelling and at times almost warm trespass of the listener. It is a fierce and absorbing adventure providing an evocative finale to a richly punishing and exciting release. Vocally maybe there is a wish of slightly more diversity to match the sounds yet they are the core of the animus fuelling songs and release, and effectively project the intent and emotion of the French sung proposals making up the excellent Condamné. It is not a merciful or easy listen but Bind Torture Kill has uncaged one of the most exhaustingly exhilarating sonic ravishments you will come up against this year.

Condamné is available now digitally and on CD @

Grab a free download of the album’s title track below

RingMaster 28/01/2015

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Evisorax – Goodbye to the feast…welcome to the famine


If grindcore is the kind of thing which ignites the passions then the bracing winds of Goodbye to the feast…welcome to the famine are sure to inflame the senses. This new sonic assault comes from British trio Evisorax so of course we mean viciously searing torrents of sound in regard to the six-track violation, especially as the line-up of vocalist Simon Wright (also of Krokodil), guitarist Daniel Lynch, and drummer Simon Bishop (Ex-Narcosis) have unleashed their most imposing theatre of violence yet.

The follow-up to 2011 album Isle of Dogs, which in turn succeeded Enclave of 2008, the band’s Scott Hull mastered third album is as blisteringly brutal and hateful as music comes. Evisorax’s furious expulsions of undiluted and math grindcore has already pushed the threesome to the fore of the genre and ‘audio violence’, but now the new ravaging of Goodbye to the feast…Welcome to the Famine takes it all to a new level, as evidenced immediately by the vitriolic tempest of opener Greedy Pig. The track is a tsunami of spite and rhythmic punishment, a ruthless seduction enhanced by the hate spewing raging of Wright amidst a corrosive blitz of caustic riffery and tangy toxic grooving. Barely a minute of rancor, it is straight away matched in voracity and aggression by Blood Fucking Blisters. The second track has real bad blood running through its veins and an addictive nature in its grooving and jabbing beats within the expected and always unpredictable sonic animus which pours from the songwriting and hearts of Evisorax

   The Last Horrendous Concubines provides thirty six seconds of sonic execration next whilst Locust Breeders takes over with a minute of its own similarly impassioned malevolence musically and vocally. The track also finds a swing and contagious grooving to its infestation and scorching of the senses, feeling almost light in comparison to its predecessors and the following End Users (Directors Cut) where the drums, as in the previous song, add an addictive almost anthemic swagger though the likeness ends there as it turns into an invasive jaundice of sonic pestilence and desensitising enterprise.

The album’s pinnacle comes next, So many Fat people during the Famine revealing a magnetic twist in the attack of the release with melodic toxins and a slower groove bound gait. The violence and lyrical/vocal loathing is still a running torrent but Evisorax take it into doomier, sludge kissed scenery with clean vocals and sultry climates. With deranged twists and flirtatious scythes of guitar and short spicy grooves, the track is a bewitching temptation as it takes its pound of flesh from ears and sanity from the psyche.

All the best bits, they left out of your death brings the album to a close, its insatiable anger and technical causticity a fitting and scarring end to a blissful and blistering confrontation. Goodbye to the feast…welcome to the famine is a treat and must for all grindcore extreme punk fans but for the rest…well they best run and hide.

Goodbye to the feast…welcome to the famine is available now via Bones Brigade Records on 12” vinyl @ with a T-shirt/cassette bundle available @

RingMaster 27/01/2015

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