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Okay, remember that black guy who used to play trumpet and (if metal equals not being an idiot) was sixty milion times more metal than the mastermind behind Lich King? Yes, that's right, Miles Davis. He had that series of albums such as Relaxin', Cookin', Diggin', and so on. Well, applause for the first act that sucks so badly that it deserved first place on the platter of one-word stinkers!
The fact that makes every bit of criticism to worsen things is that Lich King needs attention. It's the personification of the Paris Hilton inside each and every of us. If one said that Lich King is a worthless and wholly disposable listening (truth!) there would still be several voices screaming that it's not that bad, and maybe the guy behind the act would be even more pleased claiming that it is in fact the best album that ever took birth on Earth, so that the casual metal fan and the specialist get mad typing that he is an asshole. The sheer pompousness that surrounds this band is doubtlessly a parody of everything concerning metal music, and the interest of metal fans in goofiness mixed with Burger King beanslicer thrash shows that there is no person on Earth that does not get fed up with metal at times.
Technically speaking, this album is one of those poorly recorded masterpieces, with a frightully anorexical guitar tone and a relentless drum machine, programmed to drain the soul from your ears. Aside of this tiny flaw, the whole album is filled to insanity with little holes disguised as riffs and compositions. The "Cheesy Metal Intro" is so successful, that I couldn't prevent myself from thinking that Lich King would do a much better job as a second Manowar than trying to pose as a first-hand thrash revival act. Remove your testicles, lube your neck and pump some roids, and you would have much more metal cred.
Attack of the Etc.hits us over the head with a hyperspectacular riff to draw over rehashed thrash riffs galore, and that's more than enough to describe the rest of the album: an assortment of razorblade generic riffs, guitar leads that are being played as if they were really meant to represent the stereotype of metal itself, plenty of start-stop timing (ah, I sense some Vio-Lence, too bad that this is centuries ahead in hollowness) that also plagued Lich King's first album (recyclable materials can be plagued too). IF you were just lifted from Evanescence and Korn's universe and you need a good introduction to thrash, for example, this album will do its best to fuck you over with its massive chunks of monotony, and if you are a thrash devotee, you will only be able to sigh in front of this sad depiction of your fave genre. The vocalist got even crazier an more unbearable, mixing the hardcore delivery (bad hardcore) with lyrics made to entertain deaf people.
Well, in the end, I wouldn't be happy preventing you from hearing this album. There will be people who will like it anyway, because it's so thrashy. The dark side of the problem is that by listening and praising such music, one gives a thumbs-up to cliches and encourages this kind of filler to exist.