PROSANCTUS INFERI - Pandemonic Ululations of Vesperic Palpitation CD
The joy of blackened death metal is it's audio inhumanity brought upon the unsuspecting listener who checks it out in order to get a thrill. Unfortunately the music inserts a maggot into the unsuspecting listener's skull which commences to consume all brain matter. That's why when you look at anyone whose spent a significant amount of time listening to it they have that painfully grim facial expression. We can all thank INCANTATION for various platters which were really weapons of brain mass destruction. PROSANCTUS INFERI follow a similar pattern albeit not as technical and there's no doom. PROSANCTUS INFERI is J. Kohn on guitar and vocals, an alumni of such other not so happy bands like BLACK FUNERAL and FATHER BEFOULED. Strange as it may seem I also consider those two bands favorites of mine. Thankfully I know what to expect so no maggots need apply.
Pandemonic Ululations of Vesperic Palpitation is the first proper full length by PROSANCTUS INFERI which doesn't spend much time seducing the listener. It's very fast with it's twelve tracks which doesn't give much time to breath. Kohn spent more time coming up with the titles of the tracks then recording em. Songs like "Lips of Plasma Vomiting Sanctimonious Pyx", "Pontifical Undulations of Blasphemic Gesticulation" and "Sacreligious Desecration in Excelsis" look like things you'd see on a restaurant menu in Hell while the waiter treats your dinner date to a satanic sexual sacrifice. Well there goes his tip. In all honesty even someone like myself, who has listened to enough blackened death blasphemies that churches explode into flames by just my walking past them, I kinda find this a little rough on the nerves. It's not the type of music being played but how the titles might be different but some of the songs sound alike. The drumming on here has a machine like momentum that doesn't deviate especially on the snare pounding. The guy had to of changed heads after recording each song which don't fall over the two minute mark by much.
Kohn's choice sick rhythms are akin to someone throwing scolding hot mud in your face and his solos are like hot pokers. I've listened to this seven times in a row while composing this review and I feel a little singed. I'm afraid to turn away from the monitor thinking that I'd see my office in flames behind me. You know technically that's a good thing but sooner or later I have to take the CD out of the melted stereo. I wanna save it to torture friends with. By the way I didn't mention Kohn's vocals because I wouldn't call what emanates out of his throat as singing by any means. He's not brutal sounding like so many of those kiddie "brootal" death/grind bands. Instead Kohn sounds ghastly as if his throat was the unwashed ashtray that your two pack of smokes a day hundred year old granny has on an end table by her favorite chair. OK so this dink is about to make it's eighth pass in my stereo and I'm about ready to run out my front door screaming "masochism, masochism" at the top of my one pack a day smoking habit lungs.