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Sergeant D's perverted European cousin. - 68%

hells_unicorn, March 7th, 2011

Those who have followed the early days of Mayhem will obviously note that, in spite of all the graphic lyrics and shock value at play, there was always something of a comical element to the equation. This started to fall away after Euronymous came to the decision that dark aesthetics were a more interesting road than trying to one up the most profane death metal bands at their own art of gore mongering. But before the days of paving the way for Cannibal Corpse and company with their “Chainsaw Gutsfuck” and “Necrolust” concoctions, the famed and dearly departed purveyor of all things black and his buddy Necrobutcher decided to join forces with a few members of 2nd tier Teutonic thrashers Assassin for what could be described as one of the goofiest fits of cult music pandemonium ever not heard by the most people.

Given the high level of lyrical profanity, most of it utterly gratuitous, and the sloppily played and utterly minimalistic punk/thrash riffs going on here, my assumption is that this Nordic and Germanic union heard some of S.O.D.’s material and thought they’d put a European twist on the concept. Granted, unlike the polished product that became “Speak English Or Die”, this is about as low-fi and messy as they come, though this is definitely in character insofar as Euronymous’ early works go. These songs will often consist of slow to mid paced verses with a distinctive though highly repetitive riff, followed by a blurring chorus with the song title shouted over and over ad nauseam. The vocals sound akin to an intoxicated German at a tavern after about 15 shots of hard liquor and 4 packs of cigarettes, shouting in an often arrhythmic and barely coherent matter.

This isn’t the sort of thing that lends itself to repeated listens, but might be good for a singular spin and a quick chuckle. If nothing else, it shows that not every moment of Mayhem’s history is consumed with weird stories of violence and suicide, and that Euronymous had something resembling a sense of humor. This is what most in the business would call a cult release. It is for the trustees of early black/thrash worship and them alone, being perhaps their only excuse for a hearty laugh in between all of the agony and hatred.