Sadistic Thoughts of a Serial Killer

There is something to the visual of Sloth from The Goonies wielding a meat cleaves and a handful of human entrails that screams derivative, regardless of whether the death metal be of the old school or modern slam persuasion. Naturally first impressions are not the whole story, but in the case of the fairly young California slam act Homophobic Fecalpheliac, it is largely an accurate depiction of what is going on with this band. In a field full of cheap knockoffs and few bands really willing to break down boundaries, it's tough to make it as a run of the mill, groove-based brutal act with a generally genetic approach to things. To be fair, what this band brings to the table on their first LP Sadistic Thoughts Of A Serial Killer is a fair bit more inventive than the poorly produced drivel that typified most of Waking The Cadaver's career, and there are even some points of intrigue buried beneath the sea of obnoxious pig squeals, diarrhea painted muddy chugs that pass for riffs and hypnotic groove beats that dominate much of this album.

Being fronted by the infamous bedroom black metal proponent Neil Andersen, aka Leviticai, it's a forgone conclusion that this would be a vocal-centered listening experience, and suffice it to say, he goes way overboard. Credit should be given for his ability to manipulate his voice into such an inhuman array of vocalizations, but his consequently schizophrenic approach and overly exaggerated execution gets pretty obnoxious after the first couple of songs. Arguably the worst offender in the vocal department is the nails on a chalkboard overuse of pig squeals like an ice pick to the ear drums that rounds out the otherwise semi-decent thrasher "Defecation Asphyxiation", though it gets some notably stiff competition from "Ice Pick Castration", a genuine shame given that this song also features some truly brilliant lead guitar work and some stellar riffs that recall the stronger points of Cryptopsy's tumultuous career. There is a guest vocal slot by barely legal front man of Operation Cunt Destroyer Calum Forrest on "Excrement Experiment" that is a tad more on point, but overall it's a crap shoot that further detracts from a decent instrumental performance.

To the band's credit, they definitely don't take themselves too seriously and employ a fair amount of humorous pop culture bits that come off as fresher than the usual samples from iconic horror/slasher/splatter flicks. Arguably the best song on here from a vocal standpoint (aka something that doesn't just live off pork and brie) "Back Alley Abortion" features an iconic bit from South Park that inspired a playful giggle in yours truly, and the somewhat long and involved "Pre-Pubescent Murder Spree" somehow manages to work in that classic Family Guy gag featuring Cleveland being interrupted during bath time. This sense of comedy is likewise painted with a level of genre honesty in their cover of Slayer's "Disciple" in which they turn a crappy groove/thrash dud into something fairly decent by brutal standards, blazing guitar solo and fast paced yet comprehensible interpretation not withstanding. With a bit more direction and a vocalist that is more willing to let the instrumentalists around him shine a bit more, some of these songs could stand toe to toe with Pathology's recent offerings.

The final verdict on this album is that it is just way too mixed up and in love with its own excess to really be anything more than a passing fancy while the tape is rolling. It almost feels like the band is being held back by their singer, though the potential is definitely there and it may well be that even the likes of Leviticai could learn the value of the phrase "less is more", though his past recording exploits suggest that he has been consistently averse to such a concept for the better part of 2 decades. For all the overuse of cliche vocalizations, there is more at work in the background aside from the usual tricks of the trade, and particularly the guitar work of Alex Ippolito could stand to have a little more time in the sun as what is on display during the brief forays into shred territory reveal a guitar god just waiting to be born. Hard core fans of the more deathcore-like fringes of the brutal scene may go for this, but the broader death metal community will likely find this wanting.

This review is dedicated to the memory of Christopher Santaniello, aka Diamhea. (R.I.P.)