THE SUMMER OF THE DIABOLICAL HOLOCAUST

I titled this one that because it is pretty representative of how things have been going, despite the fact that of course it is the title of a Darkthrone song I love and I think the same thing about the summer every damn year for that fact alone. This one has really been a doozy... actually the whole year, but with the coming of the summer it seems to be at its apex so far. Within the last month I've taken a fall which resulted in a compression fracture of the T-12 vertebrae in my spine, which means no work, (probably) no more job, and a reversion back to Unemployment Mode for old Curt here (sleeping nine hours +, random eating, too much damn laying around in front of a screen). This seems to have made similar parallels with friends having discs slip in their dog's back, moving to shitholes where they can't find work and not being able to tour, losing their partners and homes, etc. So basically everything has not been so peachy, and I could go further back into the horror of the rest of the year but there's no point in that. This is me being Mr. PMA, and everyone who knows me knows that that ain't me, but I am gonna digress from my usual nihilism (TM name redacted) pessimism (TM Schopenhauer) and cynicism (TM myself) for some reviews of some cool, interesting shit. Get with the love! It's all you got. If you aren't a sewer-dweller like me (or are!), get with some Al Green, some James Brown, some Marvin Gaye and some Smokey Robinson and live it up. But if you need some of the hard stuff, follow on...

AUTOPSY - TOURNIQUETS, HACKSAWS AND GRAVES

Well, what can I say. It's Autopsy. The greatest, dingiest, most completely stoned, doomiest, and most incredibly repulsive and disgusting death metal band of all time -- the one that all other greats bow their heads to in reverence. If you know a death metal band that either A. doesn't like them, or B. doesn't know who they are, then you are probably well out of the league of anyone with taste or talent, and should treat them as such. This isn't as good as their last dive into the maggot-pool, The Headless Ritual (which contained several stone-classics like "She Is A Funeral" and "Coffincrawlers", the latter of which would send anyone who played Splatterhouse on Turbografix-16 or Sega Genesis back in the day into paroxysms of nostalgia) but it's still pretty strong and heavy on the doom influence. I wasn't quite sure about their reformation initially because Abscess had been going well sounding like an Autopsy-that-wasn't-Autopsy but after the last album they convinced me to stick around, and this one does the same. I really can't reiterate it any better: THIS IS DEATH METAL. Give up your 'gravity blasts', your 'slam parts', all the shit that constitutes most modern death metal. These songs have actual atmosphere and I will give that for a thousand other shitty bands and their polished, mosh-it-up material. It may not be as good as Mental Funeral (or even the last album) but it's better than most anything else bearing the name right now. Bow down, Chris Reifert is speaking.

KILLER MIKE - R.A.P. MUSIC

From one extreme to another... I'm not making any apologies to anyone for loving hip hop. You don't like it, FUCK OFF.

Anyway, this album is flat-out awesome. This is the first collaboration, far as I know, between Mike and DJ El-P, mixmaster of great renown. Their collab last year Run the Jewels was quite possibly the best new album I heard all year. That might speak to my burn-out on metal and punk (or the lack of talent screaming through thereof... or both), but they put together something great that built off this album which starts fairly basic and by midway dumps its lyrical politics and social opinions on you in great force, combined with absurd lyrical gangsterism and beats that are at once intricate and dumb as fucking shit. If you listen to the record without a subwoofer you get all the small bits; with, the ridiculous Bass 305 thump of El-P will numb you like a gummy of coke. Smart work and a flag held high for Mike himself, a standard to say what's to come in the future. Which is probably some sick shit to bump in your ride without feeling like an idiot.