Apocalypsis Damnare

The sonorously named Rigor Sardonicous delivers unto us its "third" album of crusty apocalyptic doom metal (actually a re-release of its first album of the same name) with the sleepy dinosaur vocal, the gallows humour and the out-of-tune cymbals. After a suitably po-faced exordium called - what else? - "Exordium" which is played on organ, the band whose members apparently include "?!" on drums and percussion plunges into its trawl through a scum-laden swamp of bass-heavy, mud-filled steel guitar buzz that mostly heaves up and down like a marsh monster content mainly to snooze beneath its cover of leaves and muck, its back lifting its extra skin up and down above the mud's surface. Trudging programmed beats and what sounds like an array of gongs, cymbals, garbage bin lids and cut-out bottoms of metal pots and pans that cover the whole scale of crashing tin complement the guitars which move at a slow pace. If all this music doesn't sound thick enough for you, fear not for it is all overlaid by RS leader Joseph J Fogarazzo's unique vocal which is akin to a prehistoric dino-critter's gizzard afflicted with a bad case of dyspepsia after its dim-witted sauropod owner swallowed too many stones to grind up its food and now the rocks are crumbling up against each other the wrong way.

Thick and lava-like as it is, the band's sound isn't so thick that it overpowers the percussion and rhythms which turn out to be the most varied and interesting part of the band's style. The cymbals have a clear sharp sound which contrasts with the guitar noise ooze. For this kind of sludgy rolling guitar noise, the entire record's ambience is surprisingly clean, clear and open so every muddied nuance of Fogarazzo's rumble-mumbled lyrics can be heard fairly clearly. The strings operate within a narrow range of deathened doom sound and mostly steer clear of anything resembling ego-laden flash like a five-second lead melody (at least until the last track where a thin solo lead guitar can be heard), concentrating on playing repeated riffs that provide the backbone for the songs. It's up to the percussion to provide excitement and the cymbals certainly rise to the occasion on tracks like "Human Rot" where it seems every corner of the RS swamp world has a metal disc ready for bashing no matter how badly it's tuned or set up. Other worthy tracks in the rhythm department are "Holy Suicide" which features some industrial rattle and is quite fast in parts, and "Misery" which chops along at a speedy clip with sharp if minimal drumming and a machine-gun rhythm at the beginning. The guitars are work harder and faster with a more complex melody and this encourages the cymbals to bang and crash at a higher and more demented level of activity.

In case RS has fans out there who actually wish to sing along with Joseph J (it might help if you graze on some gravel to get your throats prepared), the musicians kindly provide printed lyrics which revolve around death and dying. The words veer a little to the overcooked side but I guess it's the nature of the deathly doom beast the RS guys are dealing with that demands stuff like "... Nocturnal, desolate obeisance, condensed state of consciousness / Existence writhing of flesh - forgotten sorrow / Stench of remains reeks - eternal tomorrow ..." ("Human Rot") and "... Unborn malaised yearning / Putrefy to life's end / Stagnant breath and blood / Virulent circle ..." ("Pandemic"). The imagery is quite vivid and I'm starting to get a whiff of the decay and gases coming out of stomachs as their dead owners start to swell. I believe in a previous life Fogarazzo studied mortuary science and worked as a licensed funeral director for a while so he sure knows his subject matter well.

In its own way this is a fun and hilarious recording with tinny cymbal crashes coming at you from all directions and Fogarazzo's laboured lamentations gurgling from deep within a gargantuan gut vying for being the most comic aspect of the RS style. Jeez, writing about this album is overcooking my own thoughts and words. The general thrust of the music tends to be minimal and rather low-key so listeners must not expect any great sparks from the guitars until later in the album when the strings do spring into life and become aggressive and sharp. They're not so much in the style of doom metal as they are in the style of slowed-down death metal with an industrial influence which becomes more obvious on faster songs like "Misery". Whoever's working the drum machine and other gadgets churning out the beats and rhythms, and is also in charge of the sheet metal orchestra, has the unenviable task of keeping listeners interested and this fella delights in wacking and banging the tins with glee, not caring if the results are all off-key and are driving some people nuts.

As with their second album "Principial Sardonica", the Rigor Sardonicous men dedicate this slab of unhealthy and thickened doom crust to themselves. How could you not love these guys?