Register Forgot login?

© 2002-2014
Encyclopaedia Metallum

Best viewed
without Internet Explorer,
in 1280 x 960 resolution
or higher.

Marriage Sucks, And So Does This Album - 20%

GuntherTheUndying, May 25th, 2008

What’s there to say? It’s Deicide’s ninth full-length record that blows chunks, even after they called it a mixture between “The Stench of Redemption” and “Legion.” How sad, right? Deicide hit a homerun with the melodic intensity of “The Stench of Redemption” and were actually idolized when “Legion” twisted brutality into new forms, yet “Till Death Do Us Part” is a parody of those great works, making it a haven of comical emotions above all else. Being serious, this effort resembles yesterday’s superstars becoming a horrendous flapjack of their own image; a grotesque stab at reclaiming an outdated crown by enlisting nothing new, original, or even a degree of decency. I’m officially divorcing Deicide from my CD player after hearing them degrade so painfully during this atrocity.

Here’s “Till Death Do Us Part” in one phrase: tasteless death metal that defines unoriginal feces. Jack Owen and Ralph Santolla once again wield their chainsaws, but a new toxin of egoism and narcissism that consumes Owen’s identity slowly overshadows “Till Death Do Us Part,” as his great riffs and solos completely fall beyond Uncle Ralph’s upcoming popularity. Something seemed missing, so I checked the inner booklet, and here’s what it says on EVERY song: Lead Guitar – Santolla. Jack is listed only a few times, while Ralph and even Steve Asheim (the drummer) solo more; that’s how to treat an icon, I suppose. Looking already pompous and risible, simple riffs you can find on any death metal release contaminant all around with useless melody and pseudo-heaviness, minus any intelligence, of course. Tell me where Eric and Brian are, please?

Glen Benton’s unilateral lyrics are, however, a betrayal in the album’s own sense of identity. I personally foresaw a new frontier in Deicide’s evolving nature when Bigfoot’s self-proclaimed buddy announced his Satanic/anti-Christian charade would finally meet its end for a conceptual tale about the horrors of marriage, which ironically penetrates a laughable paradox right when “The Beginning of the End” finishes its instrumental attack. Soon after, Benton’s worn growls pathetically attract rants against Christianity while circumnavigating between dull descriptions of love, and then our cracked idol desperately tries stitching each category together, producing an effort that received divorce papers before its vows. I guess utilizing different turbulences is just too much work for these “legends,” even on something so simple like lyrical themes.

But on a musical view, everything looks equally disappointing. Steve Asheim, for one, has no presence on his kit. Using identical patterns from “The Stench of Redemption,” we see minimal change besides frequent blasting and a cluster of slowed textures that can honestly show up whenever the “death metal” label is present. Benton, as expected, sounds like himself, which is fine, but I’m not soiling myself over it. As Deicide continues to truck along throughout their ninth opus of one-dimensional plastic, things start weak, and never improve; they’ve officially cheated on all poetic abilities detectable on prior offerings for senseless death metal. Marriage sucks, and so does this album.

“Till Death Do Us Part” has a failing collection of jugulating anthems lurking throughout its stone halls, and Deicide’s lack of bohemian qualities slowly chips away at the listener’s patience, leaving all metal fans disappointed and bored. Efforts like “The Stench of Redemption” and “Legion” clearly remain dominating in Deicide’s camp, so making an attempt to combine the immature and adult forms of Florida’s famous squad resulted in a bastard child only looking helplessly retarded; these cited influences are barely prevalent, or absent in totality. Nothing else can be said about “Till Death Do Us Part,” so unleash your own judgment appropriately. And ignore what Bigfoot says. He’s biased anyway.

This review was written for: www.Thrashpit.com