Blind Equation – A Funeral in Purgatory Review

By Kenstrosity

When I reach for something blindly, I hope for the best. As it pertains to the acquisition of promo, I calculate my chances of enjoying whatever I select as little as possible. Impulse reigns supreme, instinct takes precedence, gut feelings have the final say. This process ultimately led me to Chicago, Illinois’ Blind Equation. Originally launched as a chiptune-heavy cybergrind project, mastermind and main songwriter James McHenry steadily integrated other influences that distinguish this material from that of the greater subset. With A Funeral in Purgatory, written in the midst of great anguish and struggle on McHenry’s side, Blind Equation create their heaviest, most brutal, and yet most vulnerable and earnest work to date.

Resembling acts like DEATHTRIPPA, Blind Equation’s current iteration diversifies its palette with elements of goth and emo, death and doom, synthwave, and melodic black metal. To these ears, those attributes recall everything from AFI, Fires in the Distance, Silhouette, Gunship, and Labyrinthus Stellarum. Depressive tones and desperate wails reminiscent of Ghost Bath or Acathexis also meld beautifully with a hopeful atmospheric counterpoint—a reflection of McHenry’s use of songwriting as a mechanism for catharsis and healing during his darkest moments during A Funeral in Purgatory’s development. Brutal outbursts reminiscent of Anaal Nathrakh or Igorrr, and the occasional deathcore gravity blast, provide an additional dynamic that brings immense metallic heft to an affair that, to my knowledge, doesn’t utilize a single guitar. Unified, these myriad characteristics coalesce into something stylistically unique, instrumentally fascinating, and emotionally compelling.

More importantly, A Funeral in Purgatory is an absolute joy to experience. With contrasting numbers as divergent as my personal favorites, the blisteringly fast and exuberant “Flashback (ft. Strawberry Hospital)” and beautiful death doom closer “Incomplete,” you might expect A Funeral in Purgatory to be disjointed and haphazard. But the opposite is true. Blind Equation’s masterful, meticulous detailing brings unity and adhesion to the record, such that when I hear the eviscerating brutality of “… in Purgatory” juxtaposed against the vibrant gallop of “Flashback,” or the goth-soaked “Nothing” against the metalcore-breakcore mashup “it feels like the end (ft. JOHNNASCUS),” it feels natural and invigorating. An increased presence of slower, more dramatic passages in “A Funeral… ” and “Relinquished Dreams” allows Blind Equation’s heart-wrenching roars and introspective tones to shine through as the brilliant light of higher-pitched synths and chips fade, enhancing what are already compelling songs by creating deeper valleys and taller peaks. Ultimately, this approach to songwriting permitted me very little opportunity to correctly predict what happened next, while still capturing my attention so completely that with each new song I was ready, almost desperate, for the next twist to whip me into another dimension.

However, not all dimensions are created equal, and there are a couple here that don’t quite reach the same echelon as Blind Equation’s best. First and foremost are the interludes, “⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆✟⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺” and “still.” Musically, they are pretty and offer plenty of emotion, but don’t add enough to the storytelling to feel essential to the overall experience. I could argue the former brings novelty to the split title tracks “A Funeral… ” and “… in Purgatory,” but the requisite connective tissue is flimsy all the same. In a similar manner, “mourn” is somewhat lackluster compared to its album mates. This could be an unfortunate circumstance brought about by its barebones instrumentation, which is a stark departure from everything presented over the previous seven tracks. It could also be that its core ideas feel a touch underdeveloped by comparison. Either way, it represents one of A Funeral in Purgatory’s minor weak points. While in no way a detractor on their own merit, Blind Equation’s AFI-esque clean vocals, which only feature in the first three tracks, would bring even greater cohesion to the whole if they featured more consistently throughout.

It goes without saying that I didn’t expect what Blind Equation delivered, nor did I expect to like it this much. At the same time, I really shouldn’t be surprised at all, considering nearly all of my favorite records this year have been wild and unorthodox. A Funeral in Purgatory represents another entry in that varied category, of which there is no doubt. But it’s also one of the most fun and engaging electronic music releases I’ve encountered this year. So if you don’t mind your metal chipped to oblivion, laced with ecstasy, dressed in all black, with a raven perched on its shoulder, then A Funeral in Purgatory might just be your poison.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Prosthetic Records
Websites: blindequation.bandcamp.com/album | facebook.com/blindequation
Releases Worldwide: July 18th, 2025

#2025 #35 #AFuneralInPurgatory #AFI #AmericanMetal #AnaalNathrakh #BlindEquation #Breakcore #Chiptune #Cybergrind #DeathMetal #DEATHTRIPPA #DoomMetal #DrumAndBass #ElectronicMetal #FiresInTheDistance #GothicMetal #Grind #Grindcore #Gunship #Igorrr #JOHNNASCUS #Jul25 #LabyrinthusStellarum #MelodicBlackMetal #Metalcore #ProstheticRecords #Review #Reviews #Silhouette #StrawberryHospital

Chestcrush – ΨΥΧΟΒΓΑΛΤΗΣ Review

By Tyme

Chestcrush is what happens when you fuck around and find out. These three blackened death dealers from Edinburgh, Scotland, formed in 2020, released their independent debut album, Vthelygmia, in 2021. That’s when Chestcrush caught my ear for the first time, penning one of my favorite songs, “Different Shepherd, Same Sheep.” After swapping original vocalist Thomas Blanc for Topias Jokipii, who debuted his wares on 2022’s Apechtheia EP, Chestcrush is back with its sophomore prüno-piss and vinegar-filled platter, ΨΥΧΟΒΓΑΛΤΗΣ. Translated from Greek to mean ‘soul extractor,’ ΨΥΧΟΒΓΑΛΤΗΣ metaphorically describes an experience or person that is so incredibly tormenting to you that it feels like it’s pulling your very soul out through your mouth. Will I need my jaw re-aligned after listening to ΨΥΧΟΒΓΑΛΤΗΣ, or is this dog just a toothless barker?

Chestcrush executes its misanthropic, anti-everything brand of nihilism by fusing blackened deathgrind with sludgy, doomy industrialism on ΨΥΧΟΒΓΑΛΤΗΣ. And even with the grindier bits dialed back, ΨΥΧΟΒΓΑΛΤΗΣA sounds like a bloodied blend of Anaal Nathrakh, Immolation, and Napalm Death sprinkled with an extra vitriolic dash o’ Nails. Evangelos Vasilakos crushes chests and eardrums with an onslaught of riffs full of brutish chugs, crusty sludge, and deathly density (“Existence is Punishment”). Drummer Robin Stone (Ashen Horde) brings the mutha-fuckin’ skulls to the yard with his rib-rattling, Anaal Nathrakhian double kick work, which often serves as a tempodic counterpoint to Evan’s wall of sound bass and guitar destruction (“We Shall Be Devoured by the Offspring of Our Own Flesh”). Topping off this sundae of fuck-off-fun-day decimation are the Mikael Åkerfeldtish vocals of Jokipii, whose roars and guttural growls bring an altogether beastlier edge to ΨΥΧΟΒΓΑΛΤΗΣ‘s throat work. Chestcrush will not make you feel good about yourself, nor will they have you looking hopefully into the future.

Speaking of hope, if not abandoned wholly before entering Chestcrush‘s world, it will be by the time “Every Single Word That Comes Out of Your Filthy Hole Is an Infectious Lie a Spreading Disease” invades your earholes. It is a punishing, anti-religious anthem full of chunky riffs, dissonant tremolos, Stone’s inhuman drumming, and Jokipii’s tortured growls and screams, prefaced by an ominous warning, ‘Until the last stone, from the last church, falls on the last priest.’ And as the screechy, staticky ending of “Hang Them! Torch Them!” gives way to the tolling bells of the sludgy behemoth and album closer, “As the Damned Writhe in Eternal Woe,” it is clear that Chestcrush hates us all. ΨΥΧΟΒΓΑΛΤΗΣ has no high points, no zenith; it is a cavalcade of sorrow, a series of nadirs plumbing depths subterranean of Dante’s seventh circle.

From the very Hellraiser-esque cover art courtesy of Vladimir Chebakov to the forty-minute runtime, Chestcrush‘s ΨΥΧΟΒΓΑΛΤΗΣ is infinitely more mature than its predecessor, Vthelygmia. I attribute this leap in maturation to two things. First, Chestcrush‘s songwriting has blossomed like a blackened rose, resulting in fully developed compositions that wend, wind, and weave within themselves, an ebb and flow of drama that casts a pall of abject hopelessness over the entire affair. Second, the addition of vocalist Topias Jokipii, whose beefier delivery and propensity to stay in his lower, more guttural register better fit Chestrcush‘s aural aesthetic. I have little in the way of criticism for ΨΥΧΟΒΓΑΛΤΗΣ, but there was something that stood out, which is a brief screech of feedback that rears its head throughout the album, mainly as an exclamation point. It works when employed to create an intersong dynamic (“Every Single Word…”), but it becomes grating when tacked on the end of nearly every track, sometimes twice (“We Shall Be Devoured…”).

Chestcrush has penned a dirge celebrating the death of humanity and is the human embodiment of existential hate. You’ll not be blasting ΨΥΧΟΒΓΑΛΤΗΣ poolside this summer, cracking beers and seltzers with your buddies and their wives, crisping flesh in the sun. Chestcrush is of darkness, despair, and destitution, and that is where ΨΥΧΟΒΓΑΛΤΗΣ will take you. I have committed several hours to ΨΥΧΟΒΓΑΛΤΗΣ in preparation for this review, and this time has left me spent, my jaw firmly wired shut, soul removed. I think I need to go and listen to some Fellowship now.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 4, 2025

#2025 #35 #AnaalNathrakh #Apr25 #BlackMetal #Chestcrush #DeathMetal #Immolation #Nails #NapalmDeath #Review #Reviews #ScottishMetal #Sludge #ΨΥΧΟΒΓΑΛΤΗΣ

Marrowomb – Phisenomie Review

By Tyme

While you might not be familiar with the name Frank Lato, you may have heard some of the Chicagoan’s work. Contributing bass duties to the now defunct Polyptych in addition to the ongoing concern Headshrinker—the former was praised here in 2016 by Eldritch Elitist for Defying the Metastasis, while the latter’s Callous Indifference received a rare 4.0 from Steel in 2021—Mr. Lato has decided to slide out of the shadowy rhythm sections of his other projects to stand in the blazing light of judgment as a solo act with his new venture, Marrowomb. Alongside session drummer Kevin Paradis (ex-Benighted), who covers all the kit work, and a few friends contributing guest guitar solos, Marrowomb readies to independently release Phisenomie, a debut album nearly five years in the making. Reminiscing on many of the things I enjoyed from his previous contributions, Lato’s metal credentials excited me, but that doesn’t mean Marrowomb would get a pass. So I dove into Phisenomie with some reserved anticipation, ready to pounce if things went south.

If Benighted had gotten pregnant during some ancient Anaal Nathrakhian sex rite, the child of that ceremony would share audial DNA with Marrowomb. While at first blush this might sound intriguing, ultimately, Marrowomb lacks the histrionic technicality of Benighted and the all-out, brain-searing intensity of Anaal Nathrakh. Still, it’s blast furnace riffs scourged over machine gun blast beats (“Sickness unto Life,” “Black Gossamer”) that primarily serve as the sonic foundation for Phisenomie’s hierarchy of blackened death. Marrowomb‘s slight forays into bass-moody interludes (“Vicarious Visage”), experiments with tech-twitchy riff patterns (“Veil of Cold”) and full-on deep dives into doom pools (“Despairloom”) combine with sparse synth work to bring atmospheric variation but ultimately fall short, a result of Phisenomie‘s most significant flaws, which are its construction and the mix.

Like its digitally assembled cover art,1the music on Phisenomie sounds cut and pasted together. Dissonant leads come out of nowhere (“Phantasia Kataleptike”) as do awkwardly incorporated solos (“Black Gossamer,” “The Mirror”) like tin-eared tails mistakenly pinned to a riff donkey’s neck. This immature cohesion and lack of integrality enshrine Marrowomb‘s guitar performances as weak, a negative further spotlighted by the mix. Phisenomie is pretty loud, and as a result, much of the bass and guitar work is left muddied. Solo work at the beginning of “Despairloom” suffers most from this mud-bog mix as much of the interesting guitar runs garble as if played through a wet towel.

As a general liker of things,2 I’ve perhaps been overly harsh with Marrowomb, but not everything here is as dire as I’ve portrayed. A case in point is Lato’s vocal performance. I’m not sure if he ever contributed vocals on any of his other projects, but he’s got a decent ability to spit growls and rasps alike. I hear more of Dave V.I.T.R.I.O.L. Hunt’s grunts and shrieks in Lato’s delivery than I do the “Reee Reee” stylings of Julien Trouchan, but suffice to say, the man’s voice is compelling. Paradis’ kit performance, another highlight, is full of pummeling double bass bashing, frolicking fills, and enough snare abuse to remind you that, yeah, this guy played on Ekbom. These things give me hope that not everything about Marrowomb is lost.

Marrowomb‘s debut album, Phisenomie, is not what you’ve been waiting for. I enjoyed Polyptych‘s output and look forward to hearing the next Headshrinker for sure, but Marrowomb hasn’t done enough to sell me, and I can’t recommend this album as a result. I am, however, a fan of Frank Lato’s ability, which is inarguable, and I respect him for taking this project on and getting more of his work out there. With a more fleshed-out guitar vision and the chops to back it up, there could be a promising release in Marrowomb‘s future; Phisenomie just isn’t it.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 21, 2025

#20 #2025 #AmericanMetal #AnaalNathrakh #Benighted #BlackMetal #DeathMetal #Feb25 #Independent #Marrowomb #Phisenomie #Review #Reviews

Feind – Ambulante Hirnamputation Review

By Kenstrosity

Sometimes fate deals a winning hand. I’m just taking a little stroll around Bandcamp, browsing for new hotness but not expecting to find anything in particular. A sick piece of artwork catches mine eye. With no idea of what’s in store, I clock seventeen tracks before me. What? Oh, they’re all a minute or less; that makes more sense. Now I know that this has got to be grindy, and I’ve had a hankering for a sleazy bit of grind for my whole goddamn life, it feels like. I smash that heckin’ play button. Hair? Blown off the dome. Pants? Fully shitted. Spine? Oh, you mean that little pool of bone GoGurt that just exploded out of my butthole into my aforementioned pants? Yeah, that’s a lost cause. All thanks to German deathgrind anomaly Feind’s Ambulante Hirnamputation. I really should’ve sprung for the premium health plan…

A debut LP that defies every expectation for overall quality, Ambulante Hirnamputation manages to do something that grind hasn’t done since 2018: activate the patented Ken hype machine. The anonymous, extremely hard-to-find German trio launch an all-out assault on institutionalized religion, late-stage capitalism, Internet culture, and any number of other societal dysfunctions in a scant thirteen minutes, and yet each new assassination makes a memory. Wielding the sheer intensity of grind legends Napalm Death, the indelible wacky hooks of Anaal Nathrakh, the mad experimentation of Cripple Bastards, and the uncompromising technical heft of Aborted, Feind hammer every rusted spike into the coffin with a wildness that would make even those who eat nails for breakfast (without any milk) feel threatened. There’s just no stopping this monstrosity, and its destructive nature demands my full, undivided attention.

Knowing that only three songs on this rabid beast dare cross the minute line, picking out standouts and lowlights poses a distinct challenge, but the solution turned out to be simple. There are no lowlights. Ambulante Hirnamputation is a singular triumph of creative riffs, adventurous structures, and subversive whimsy. Take my favorite track, “Planet der Affen,” as an example. Fifty-six seconds of techy, almost melodic deathgrind about Jeff Bezos being a dick and doing ridiculous things with his vast fortune, “Planet der Affen” swaggers with a downright bluesy second half that wraps up with a silly, but immediately memorable chorus. “3DPD” makes light of gross misogynist men trolling on the internet immediately after the preceding title track closes with a cutesy anime sample that I don’t recognize. Earlier in the runtime, “Originale Nichtskönner” slams, jams and grinds with the best of them, all to desecrate the ground with a viscous loogie. Moments like these show how irreverent and cheeky Feind really are. Musically, Ambulante Hirnamputation stands up without any cheap gimmicks or frivolous frills. Killer hits like “Es ist Muttertag,” “Arbeistiere,” “Toxic Positivity,” “Christlich Demokratische Ulcera,” and “Natur pur erleben,” among many others, wipe the floor with lesser grindcore acts via devastatingly gnarled riffs, unbelievably versatile vocal performances, and a vast assortment of percussive patterns.

Finding points of improvement or opportunities for criticism with Ambulante Hirnamputation presents a herculean task for this reviewer. The record’s minuscule runtime and blistering pace are partly to blame, but neither is a bad thing. In fact, they’re yet another way that Ambulante Hirnamputation seals the deal. By structuring the record in such a perilous manner, Feind guarantee that I’m going back to spin it again. Some records of this kind don’t offer much to reward repeated spins, but this one peels back layer after layer after layer. Throughout those deceptively detailed layers, Ambulante Hirnamputation moves with an inhuman athleticism and flexibility, allowing the band to perform acrobatic feats of songwriting gymnastics worthy of Olympic accolades. And yet, I want more. What should absolutely be enough content to satisfy even the most ravenous grind craving falls just short of sating mine.

I never expected to come across this record. It wasn’t even a properly sourced promo. Even so, I wasn’t about to wait several months before I could hype it up in an official capacity. Ambulante Hirnamputation is an unqualified triumph of fun, brutal, cantankerous deathgrind. This review is just another excuse for you to check it out. Scratch that. It’s an order!

Rating: Excellent!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self Release
Website: feind.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: August 5th, 20241

#2024 #45 #Aborted #AmbulanteHirnamputation #AnaalNathrakh #Aug24 #CrippleBastards #DeathMetal #Deathgrind #Feind #GermanMetal #Grind #Grindcore #NapalmDeath #Review #Reviews #SelfRelease