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Thrash the way Satan intended it. - 100%

MurderNArson, August 23rd, 2006

Thrash is genre that lately seems to be giving people some trouble, for reasons I cannot fathom. All manner of bands (mostly of the mainstream metalcorish variety) get that label just because they have fast songs. This is, I think, mostly because somebody told the VH1 crew that Metalica's old stuff was called thrash and since we all know that the best way to get a band some credibility is to call them the next Metallica, thrash began to be just another word for "this band is totally heavier that Slipknot and will be the defining metal band for decades to come or at least until next week when when we find a new band to hype."

If any of you have found yourselves confused by this new (and mistaken) definition of thrash, allow me to point you to Bonded By Blood, which is the textbook example of what thrash was, is, and ever will be. Harsh, fast, abrasive, violent - in short, everything thrash is supposed to sound like. Listen and weep, Shadows Fall kiddies - because this shit is PERFECT.

There is absolutely nothing to fault this album for. You might make the case that there are better vocalists than Paul - and this is true - but I can't think of anyone whose voice would have worked nearly as well with this music. Sure there are more talented and showy bassists than Rob, but he and Hunting provide the perfect backing for the guitarwork. And WHAT guitarwork! You will find some of the most amazing riffs on this album including the opening riff of the title track, which I will go so far as to call the greatest riff of all time. Yep, folks, that's it - the pinnacle of riff-writing achievement. In 21 years as of this review, nobody has come up with a riff that slays quite like that one does.

Aside from song tempos, which range from fast to blisteringly fast, here's not much variety on this album, but there doesn't need to be. After all, why bother fucking around when you've already achieved perfection? It's all brutal, mean, catchy riffs, unforgettable choruses ("And Then There Were None" and "Piranha" come to mind), blazing solos, and of course Paul Baloff's frenzied shrieks, which, by the way, waste no time on the teen-angst that seems to be so popular in modern "thrash" lyrics (*cough*Slayer'sGodHatesUsAll*cough*), and instead focus on such things as raping and murdering your wife. We do get a brief respite in the acoustic intro to "No Love," but other than that, it's more or less a 40+ minute-long skullfucking that you'll never forget.

If you do not worship this album, there is something wrong with you.