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Disharmonic Cafe - 58%

cinedracusio, September 21st, 2007

Here we have an obscure German band playing screwy discordant black metal. Therefore, my expectations from this album were damn high, but I got my ass to shreds, falling from Schoenberg's palace to a wintry (and very hard) ground.
I don't feel like writing a review of this album's aces and drawbacks, since we don't have quite a traditional metal album here (okay, despite increasingly dubious avantgarde acts popping out every day, making even avantgarde itself a tradition). The sound of Winterblut doesn't fit the atmosphere well, the guitars have a too lifeless molten fuzz. Jesus Lizard dealt with discordance and dirges, but hell, they handled it a lot better, even without being metal. Winterblut should have given up on this cotton guitar tone, cause it makes everything sound like a lazy-assed bourgeois dicking around with his cup of Ice Tea among resurrected chopsticks at an Alban Berg concert; and a clear, ferm tone would have been more effective. It doesn't get menacing, it doesn't get filthy or morose, it's just bored.
Things got shittier when I realised that the melodies are similar in patterns and notes. They are highly rhythmic, and they do not possess a bit of the inventivity that was the godfather of that genre called "jazz". For gumheaded avant-jazz, I suggest one also checks out Kayo Dot... However, the bass player did his job pretty well. Don''t expect Bill Laswell on this album, though.
The drum patterns (ahm!) are mostly one mid-paced groovy-as-shit pattern, with several interesting variations, like the one on Qualenduster. They are highly rhythmic too, a thing that makes the so-called "jazz" thing too bland for someone expecting more improvisation skill.
The vocals were the last nail in the coffin, since the vocalist had a drink with the guy from Urfaust and ripped (or tried to rip) him off. This is a recitative type of moaning, joyously irritating, but the shrieking moments are good, reminding of Lugubrum a bit.
This band got with one foot in a turd and the other in another turd: they simply couldn't be able to craft neither a jazzy style, nor a furious, black metal one. Get it for the lyrics, or get it for the moans that get your girlfriend lubed. Nothing else is that relevant.