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S-hit - 15%

GuntherTheUndying, February 2nd, 2009

Sepultura died a long time ago. I believe many, many folks in our fantastic metal community can agree they’ve been down and out since “Roots,” and haven’t put out anything worthwhile since 1991, although improving a little during “Dante XXI,” but still no cigar. However, hasn’t that vile consistency morphed into the gift that keeps on giving? After all, Sepultura waddles on with their loyal tribe of semi-stupid fans proudly creaming over whatever shitty record this awful group shoots out. So what’s left? Try a few Brazilian assholes rolling in wads of cash once another abomination is created. What a shame. Sepultura inspired countless bands throughout those glory years, and now, we always prepare for the worst, as we shall most likely receive it.

Is there any hope for this Brazilian (plus one American) faction? Why yes! It’s the same band that popped out “Beneath the Remains” and “Morbid Visions,” and YOU dare doubt their abilities? “Dante XXI” showed new characteristics emerging within our good friends…still groove-laden dung, but improvement is still improvement, and now they’ll carry it over throughout “A-lex” with utmost power. But hold the fucking phone, there’s more: it’s a concept album about Clockwork Orange! So now we celebrate the illusion that writing a concept album instantly grants a flavorful effort like so many tools suppose! Oh praise the gods!

Don’t be shocked to know the truth: “A-lex” is a steaming dump. Wow, what a surprise: it’s STILL groove metal without any sense of intelligence! Now someone trying to defend Sepultura in this situation (and they’ll try, trust me) will respond by saying the following:

“No way, faggot! The riffs are heavy as shit, drums are cool, and I JUmPDAFUCKUP!!!1!”

To tame this profoundly retarded argument, simply begin musical dissection. First off, you’ll need to point out that every song throughout “A-lex” has only one simple riff consisting of a few notes per cycle, lasting for minutes on end. Likewise, some little kid they selected for percussion duties proves his worthlessness as any beginner on the kit could easily perform everything performed by junior here. Overall though, Sepultura’s poor gamble bankrupts their identity even more than before, because ”A-lex” starts awful, stays awful, and ends awful. And yes, the guitar distortion is heavy. Big fucking deal.

From this point on, Derrick Green will now be known as Peniscake. Since entering the picture after “Roots,” Peniscake has transformed Sepultura into a groove/hardcore faction responsible for such abominations as “Nation” or “Against,” with “A-lex” continuing his otherworldly storm of diarrhea, now mightier than before. Peniscake’s shouts reek of a poor hardcore vocalist stuck in a tough-guy tone, almost like he’ll slug someone for no reason. It works pretty well for about two seconds, that is, before Peniscake becomes laughably bad. You’ll laugh, find him annoying, and wish Sepultura had gone six feet under after the golden days were over. Thanks for kicking a dead horse, Peniscake.

To my amazement, “A-lex” occasionally provides good, honest passages that actually represent a real band playing music instead of a sell-out bucket of crud practically touching the scrotums of those modernized idiots following Sepultura. For instance, “Moloko Mesto” has a real thrash riff kicking off the record quite noticeably. Sure it’s dull and generic, but for modern Sepultura, that’s a step into the unknown. And I guess “Ludwig Van” deserves a shout for its loopy expenditures and symphonic edge, even despite (you guessed it) the obsolete instrumentation rendering the entire concept of an orchestral cover useless. Ah Sepultura, you never fail to fail so hard.

If you were expecting some incredible rejuvenation of Sepultura’s glorious pastime, forget about it. This album is a powerful contender for the worst item this faded group has ever conceived, even on par with “Roots” and “Nation” in terms of piss-poor ideas. “A-lex,” on one hand, provides a slight stint of musical improvement throughout thin sections, but what doesn’t look good really blows, even for Peniscake-era standards, which frankly demonstrates how awful this whole recording is during all eighteen tunes that preach worthlessness instead of concrete substance. Basically, it’s modern Sepultura doing what modern Sepultura does best: sucking like a hooker with an anteater trunk.

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