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Jungle Rot goes gangsta - 80%

Zero_Nowhere, June 9th, 2010

Cumbeast are a bit of an oddity. A brutal death band that's all about the grooves, sports over the top song titles and fields a gurgling vocalist who wouldn't be far from home in Devourment... yet they're not playing slam. What they have here is far more along the lines of what Jungle Rot would play if they were dosed up on hip-hop and NYHC. Or if Dying Fetus suddenly lost 50 IQ points and started imitating Vomit Remnants.

You know those grooves a lot of BDM bands throw in to seperate the blasts from the slams without giving everyone whiplash? Cumbeast live in that zone, rarely stepping up to a tremolo-worthy pace or down into traditional slam territory. Even when the drums go up into blasting, the guitar rarely follows. They intersperse the whole thing with samples, a good chunk of which are actually part of the song rather than simply signalling another oncoming assault.

Speaking of the samples, Cumbeast are clearly fucking around with people when it comes to selecting samples. From the opening to Schlong Kong (see, I told you about the song titles) where they layer one of the thousand and one war movie intros over the top of an equally ubiquitous porno sample, to the closing sample of Blasting the Bling Bling where the narrator is shown as anything but a fearless badass, they seem to almost mock the usual wigger slam image.

If anything, that's an idea solidified by the vocals that appear on Blasting the Bling Bling and Dr Dongledore, where one of the band members seems to have recorded his best impersonation of the stereotypical helium-voiced nerd and snuck it in as a joke. Any gang shout where the line 'Cock with butterfly wings' shows up is going to inspire some amusement anyway, but right on the back of the offkey wailing it's downright funny. Add in that the entire song seems to be about nothing more than a mad doctor creating his own frankencock and there's no way this could be anything but a piss-take (the rest of the album is on the same level lyrically. Including a song about twin fetuses raping each other and one about a leprous man managing to rip off both his arm and dick while jacking off). The same thinking seems to hold for Spewing The Jungle Semen, where the drums adopt an almost African tom-heavy style in one section. It may be a joke but a fair amount of thought obviously went into this album. Albeit from people whose collective IQ may not exceed room temperature.

There's not really a huge amount to say about the instrumentation. The guitars have the usual downtuned, scooped tone that hammers away at you, the bass is still terminally buried and the drums, while as groovy as they come, don't really do anything new – they're still using the same old kick-and-snare patterns every band since Suffocation has been borrowing. Just with a pinging snare and more abuse of the heavy cymbals.

Vocally, there's some variety. Gurgles, the guttural pig vocals of BDM (as opposed to the cleaner inhale squeals popular as of late) growls, low shouts, the aforementioned out of key whiny nerd vocals which really have to be heard to be believed and the odd shriek. Even a rap section in the final song. If you don't like the guttural approach they won't do anything to convince you otherwise but they're on the competent side for the genre.

Purists will hate this. Those who demand the appearance of utter seriousness in their ludicrously over the top music will hate this. Those who like brutal, catchy music and can stomach a bit of Immortal style over the top imagery will love moshing out to this.