Prowler in the Yard

The only true way to understand this album is to read the lyrics while listening to the music. This way you experience the lyrical mindfuck, along with the heavy blasting and grinding of the band, totally immensing you in the feeling of utter despair.

With over-tones of a concept album ringing in your ears, somehow each track seems to link together, but you can't figure out how. The riffs grab you by the balls, wrench them off, but then suddenly calm down and go into a massaging groove. You start to headbang along, but they blast off again, leaving you dead in the water, with no chance of catching up. Each mindfuck comes one after the other. There's no escaping it, you have to listen to this album fully to understand it, otherwise you just get left with riffs, screams and noise, asking yourself over and over 'Why?'

I'll tell you why. These lyrics are some of the most discordant I have ever read. They dart from place to place, never staying on any certain subject. And they shouldn't. They come at you from everywhere, leaving you no escape, no safety, just pure horror and insanity.

The riffs. Holy shit, the riffs. As I said before, they grab you, throw you around, and don't let you go. You think you're about to die, until... BANG. We've found a groove, and we're going to stick to it for the next twenty seconds until the song is over. That's right, the songs here barely edge over two minutes, because they're just pure horror composed as beautifully as possible into episodes of music. Ready to rip your head off. If you don't manage to survive, the next song comes along and rips the flesh of your lifeless corpse, and the next bleaches your bones, until you're nothing.

You are nothing compared to the mindfuck on this CD. This is horror. This is insanity. This is Pig Destroyer.