When you look at the album cover, does it look like some plastic post '94 'Black
Metal' album? Or a liberal vegan crust punk cover? No, it doesn't, discerning reader, because everything about it just says 'solid Death
Metal, how about a Heineken?'
Give this Dutch piece of death-slab a spin, and you'll most probably think it's the cutting edge of present day death metal with Erik Rutan pulling the puppet strings. Not so!
What makes this chunk of
Saxon slashery so good is that it's an entertaining album. Here's a nice metaphor:
Death
Metal is like a zoo. You walk from
Morbid Angel's display of ghouls crushing holy priests and plastic souls rolling in the
Absu, to
Deicide wacking Jesus on the soles of his feet with bamboo poles, and you look for acrobatics. You look for those Trey solos, you look for
Inferno's sticksmanship; you can't just have a continuum of riffs and what comes with them.
Sinister do this well: they blast, they writhe and drink from all sorts of unholy chalices, and with a pinched harmonic they dive straight into breakdowns with some impossible time signature. The breakdowns aren't anything Job For a Cowboy-ish, by the way, they're legit.
Worth a listen and a place in your evil, steel heart!
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