Labia Minora

I wasn't expecting this astounding work of art to grace my virgin ears. I mean, the cover looks cool, and the logo is unreadable, so what exactly could go wrong?

The intro is pretty nice and atmospheric (albeit being pretty long), and after it you would expect a cool pagan/black/doom/whatever metal album to begin. But no! Angelblood have settled on something very unique with this album- a form of psychedelic-blackened-avantgarde metal. When you think of these genres combined, you probably think of bands such as In The Woods, Deathspell Omega, and Oranssi Pazuzu, right? Instead, you get a middle aged drug addict screaming nonsense in a voice that would encourage you to punch yourself in the face, with some decent instrumentation in the back.

Riff wise, there are some cool ideas here. "Bellowed from Risen" has a solid riff section, with the tremolo parts being pretty solid, and some Bathory/Darkthrone inspired leads every now and then. Unfortunately, these and the pretty ok bass work are the only bright lights in this album of burnt bulbs. The drums aren't capable of staying in time, and sound like they were programmed by a 14 year old kid who just downloaded his first MIDI kit. The song mentioned before is actually the only song in this album where the drums do actually keep in time, the riffs shine the most, and the vocals are bearable for a split second. It actually sounds like an outtake from Peste Noire's first albums, but a bit shittier. The rest of the songs are laughable, and especially "Fire on the Mountain" with its pseudo-folkish riff, and "Bloodchant" for heaving the "wasted tribal drum teacher" drum style presented at its glory throughout it. The riffs and the rhythm section who accompany those songs are laughable too, and don't have a significant worth of their own since all the attention is given to the crappy vocals.

Let's get back to the vocals. Whoever thought these would be a good idea totally deserves an Ig Nobel. Remember that creepy old woman who used to hang out at the shady playgrounds in your city, who you were afraid of in your childhood? So that's how they sound like, but are accompanied with tragically worse female "choir" vocals. Just listen to "Fire on the Mountain," and you'll know what all the complaints are about.

This album is a weird one, and not in a good way, for being the musical equivalent of a failed acid trip that hasn't managed to spawn a decent album. Listen to this if you like the HIV virus.