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I like to think I don't scare easily. Many a fight have I picked
with the odds stacked against me*, I've jumped out of planes, ran
across an angry bull's field, liberated dozens of massive spiders
from the bathroom without even flinching. I've been to raves on
crutches and I've been in mosh pits without an inhaler. I could
tell you of dozens of times I've cheated death without even missing
a beat. I played Hosannas from the Basements of Hell, the new album
from veterans Killing Joke, once and now I'm too scared to turn
the lights out. It's all I can do to stop myself running of to cower
behind the sofa.
This is probably the most aptly named album there
has ever been (unless Coldplay happen to have released A Collection
of Crappy Songs to Kill Yourself To at some point.) The fantastic
Bosch-esque cover art is also a pretty good indicator of what to
expect. Never mind Slayer or Marilyn Manson, this is what Satan's
got playing round his gaff, make no mistake. In fact I could readily
believe that Jaz Coleman's guttural snarlings are emitted by the
devil himself. The music conjures up images of some vast, cavernous,
grotty dungeon, filled with scowling demons and Marshall amps. The
bass sound is particularly menacing, at times sounding more like
a jackal's skull being pounded against a hundred foot of wrought
iron guttering.
As long as you like your music heavy, industrial
and gothic, this is the album for you. Personally, I find the pace
a little bit too plodding and at times the songs are crying out
for some haunting tender female vocals - my tolerance level for
gravely roaring is higher than most as well I bet. What I loved
about this album was the epic and strangely uplifting Implosion,
which springs forth like hope out of Pandora's box; the chugging
riff and general air of foreboding in Walking with Gods; and the
aggressive simplicity of The Lightbringer.
Better go now and paper over my bedroom walls and
window with pages from the bible
*never won mind you
words: Harry Harris
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