 |
 |
 |
Impaled
« The Last Gasp »
|  |
|
| |
 |
 |
| |
| |
| |
| 1 | G.O.R.E. 03:10
|
| | 2 | Sickness Is Health 02:50
|
| | 3 | The Visible Man 04:05
|
| | 4 | You are The Dead 03:20
|
| | 5 | All Gut, No Glory 04:58
|
| | 6 | Up The Dose 02:26
|
| | 7 | Torture of Duty 03:18
|
| | 8 | Masters of Ordure 03:30
|
| | 9 | Right To Die 03:02
|
| | 10 | Dawn of The Dread 03:21
|
| | 11 | The Last Gasp 04:40
|
| | Total playing time: 39:07 |
|
  
Sean McGrath - Minister of Medicine
Jason Kocol - Minister of Science
Ross Sewage - Minister of Filth
Raul Varela - Minister of Depravity
Additional musicians:
The St. Julien's Bourbon Street Players |
|
Drums recorded by Brad Koblyczak at Head Change Studios, May 2007.
Guitars, bass, vocals, and dixieland outro recorded by Jason Kocol at Hhhhey Studios, May-June 2007.
Mixed by Impaled and Brad Koblyczak at Head Change Studios, July-August 2007.
Mastered by Dan Randall at Mammoth Sound Mastering, September 2007.
Artwork:
cover and layout - Impaled and Ross Sewage
band photo - Ross Sewage and Scott Bryan
cover model - Shannon Lark |
 |
| 1. G.O.R.E.
[music - Sean McGrath, lyrics - Ross Sewage]
Gore
Offal issued forth is our
Repast
Effluvial froth causes a
Gasp
On this pitch, your roll is
Recast
Ending life as reeking gore
Gore
Orange agents make conflagrant
Rapture
Ensanguined steaming heaps, what
Grandeur
Osseal  |
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
| |
|
|
   
 |
 Интересно, на сколько обложек у Impaled хватит мяса и в каком направлении они пойдут – количества или качества (с противоположным знаком, разумеется). На предыдущем диске потенциально живой элемент составляли руки, на этом – голова, в слизи, но не деформированная. Что бы это значило?! Новый, юбилейный (10 лет в палате), альбом Impaled проносится свежим ветром после поделок других команд схожей стилистики с навязших в зубах идеями. Привычное увлекательное путешествие по операционным с шутками и прибаутками слушается, как и прежде, легко и непринужденно: легкий пафос и фамильярность в обращении с телами понять можно. Параллельно с этим стилистическая гибкость обеспечивает живейшее участие со стороны капризного слушателя. Ритм лихой пляски после смерти заводит и гитары, нарезающие риффы скорее первой свежести, которая, как известно, и последняя. Бас на равных правах участвует в создании специфического убийственного колорита: ну что за интрига целой композиции без его многообещающего хрустения под заговорщицкий стук? Дэт-грайнд у американских мастеров разнообразен на вкус по мелодичным начинкам, но все они относимы к разряду ностальгии: под эти мотивчики кто-то жил и радовался, а теперь… мертв и тоже не грустит. К соло, как и прежде, у Impaled бережное отношение: каждое названо и несет, надо полагать, особую концептуальную нагрузку. И последним и самым убедительным доказательством компетентности музперсонала являются вокалы, носители которого уж точно посвящены во все таинства тела и махинаций с ним. Союз горового благоденствия, утробного рыка со скримом, со знанием проводит в жизнь все самые безумные идеи. Открывая альбом афоризмом “This is no longer war… This is cold blooded murder” (которых и потом будет еще немало), Impaled переносят плотские страсти в сферу частного, индивидуального, которое работает на общее дело, именуемое «The Last Gasp». Вообще ребята знают, что для успешной работы необходимо четкая организация, поэтому у них, как видим на развороте диска, четкое же распределение зон влияния: каждый из них – министр соответственно медицины, науки, хм, пороков, извращений.
Приятно иной раз выделить лучшие песни. Скажем, на этом альбоме Impaled просятся быть названными открывающий трэк (просто из-за идейного веса) и стильный разноскоростной боевик “All Gut, No Glory”. Панковский угар тоже занимателен. Хотя в целом по хитовости этот диск уступает «Death After Life», а от такой группы всегда ждешь чего-то такого в каждом альбоме. Но в общем и целом коллектив остался верен себе. “Gore” или “G.O.R.E.” – выбирайте, но суть от этого не изменится. Предыдущий альбом был к тому же поэксцентричнее при большей же похожести, вплоть до цитирования, на Carcass, но и здесь Impaled не ударили лицом в грязь, а ударили им по обычаю в кровь… (Диск предоставлен фирмой Mazzar Records). |
 |
 |
|  |
| | | |
 |  |
Для тех из вас, кого не слишком впечатлил предыдущий альбом Impaled, «Death After Life», «The Last Gasp» будет глотком по-настоящему свежего (гор-грайндер со стажем, читай: «вонючего»!) воздуха, ибо помимо обязательной расчлененки, американцы предлагают еще и захватывающие хуковые мелодии. Кроме того, они отставили в сторонку заигрывания с концептуальным материалом, что присутствовал на предыдущей работе, и на этом, четвертом по счету, альбоме вернулись к своим чисто gore-овым корням. Это отличная, более цельная работа, и тому есть ряд причин.
Во-первых, здесь целая куча грувовых и неотпускающих низких скрежещущих риффов, как гитарных, так и басовых, что так характерно для жанра. Напоминающие поздний Каркасс, композиции интересны и, несмотря на отсутствие перепродюсирования, досадно имевшего место на прошлом альбоме, все же достаточно техничны. От своего предшественника «Последний Вздох» также выгодно отличают разнообразные мелодии, в которых так и маячит сильное влияние трэша и панка. Также присутствует характерный «двойной» вокал, который варьируется от маниакального визга до канализационного шкворчания.
Отлично получились и ударные. Однако, опять же, помня о «Смерти после жизни», не стоит ожидать того же постоянного бластбита. Нет, барабанщик все еще использует двойную басовую «бочку», но здесь намного меньше того сильно «протриггированного» и перепродюсированного молотилова, которое, к несчастью, «засорило» современный дэт-метал. Видно, что ударник старается играть поразнообразней, и это радует, а тупой четко прописанной долбилки и без того хватает на современном рынке музыкальной мертвечины. В целом, более естественное продюсирование делает этот гор-дэтовый продукт крайне вкусным и питательным.
Если вы ищете уникальный, радикально новый и супер-техничный дэт-альбом, то эта штука не для вас. А вот если вам по душе агрессивный, пропитанный горовыми настроениями дэт-грайнд старой школы, со всей дури бьющий промеж ног, и при этом не лишенный мелодичности, - берите и не пожалеете!
Выделяющиеся из обильного кровопускания и кишервоты трэки: «Up the Dose», «The Last Gasp» и «Dawn of the Dread».
Шесть синих вздувшихся младенцев из десяти. |
|
|
| |
| | | |
| |
|
|  |
просмотров: 6086 |
Rongeur
Ensmulting piles of turgid gore
G.O.R.E.
Is a force that gives us meaning
G.O.R.E.
Is a force that leaves you screaming
Gunned down at the waist
Out comes human waste
Reaping a battery
Exploding batteries
Gristle for the cannon
Offered for our canon
Relinquish your arms
Employing our arms
[solo: "Debris All That You Can Be" - S.C. McGrath]
G.O.R.E.
G.O.R.E.
Is a force that gives us meaning
G.O.R.E.
Is a force that leaves you screaming
2. Sickness Is Health
[music - Jason Kocol, lyrics - Ross Sewage]
The lowest dregs of humanity
With "bad blood" we recruit
Syphilitic beneficiaries
Ethical points are moot
Chancres observed on genitals
Lymph nodes begin to swell
Amelioration we will stall
Urination must be hell
Sickness is health
Observe the rashes, the meningismus
And broad lesional sores
Withhold the benzathine penicillin
The patient must die to learn more
Gore is peace
Vigor is slavery
Madness is strength
Sickness is health
Your sexual proclivity
A prejudice on which we wagered
Diagnosed, and we were stoked
To watch as your health wavered
Gummas form inside the marrow
It's all so interesting
The sight of your aortic collapse
You'll find quite arresting
Sickness is health
Health care administered to the death
As the bacterium eats your brain
Meningovascular infection
We sit idle as you go insane
Suffer for the common good
Assume uninformed consent
Gratitude for your sacrifice
At your autopsy, we present
Sickness is health
3. The Visible Man
[music - Sean McGrath, lyrics - Ross Sewage]
Deoxyribonucleic acid
Blueprint for life
Human genetic information
Causatum of strife
Polymer of nucleotides
Map every point
Sequencing the protein code
Ours to exploit
Encoding the chromosomes
A DNA bank
Profiling every base pair
Forensic mountebank
Codons replication to regulate
Data in slumber
Every man, woman, child
We've got your number
Humanity we'll dissect
Inhumane genome project
Encoding all that we can
Creating the visible man
Collecting every string
For tracking everything
Patenting all your genes
For vending your being
[solo: "DNA, RNA, the AMA, and an MBA" - S.C. McGrath]
Samples biological, questions philosophical
Privatizing eugenics to control the amoral
Ambitions are transfixed on the double helix
Bereft of a paddle, you're headed up the river Styx
Civil liberties exsiccate, driven by your fear
Fingerprints of disease and disorders engineered
Aggregating profiles of your Achilles' heels
Corporeal confidentials are ours to steal
Will of the Rxxx
Inhumane genome project
Fleecing all with our plan
Controlling the visible man
4. You Are The Dead
[music - Jason Kocol, lyrics - Ross Sewage]
Ticking off the subjects in a queue of the damned
Fungible commodities to hoodwink and scam
Devouring our meds as your body wastes away
The side effects are cancer, rotten gums, and decay
You can't control the nausea or diarrheic shit
We have a pill for that but it will cost you quite a bit
The tumours are spreading and they won't go away
Poisons are injected to keep them at bay
To counter the poison, we have here a pill
We can't make you better if we don't make you ill
As tens of thousands die, our profits are sky high
We'll drain your coffers dry; you are the dead
A sordid little tryst, we're in up to the wrist
It's useless to resist; you are the dead
Choking down the meds through a bolus of snot
If this is really living, I'd think you'd rather not
Picking at your lesions can be such a crushing bore
But our new antidepressant keeps you crying out for more
You'll need them when you find out how they've riddled your brain
The boys down in the lab are making something for the pain
You can't get to sleep until you've been sedated
The pain in your liver cannot be abated
Your kidneys malfunction and your nerves are a wreck
Just keep taking our pills and keep signing the checks
Metastisizing, the cancer devours
The Reaper grimly hovers
Admitted to a hospice to rot on a mattress
You'd better hope you're covered
Contagion; infection; solution: extinction
[solo: "Ethics and the Pharmaceutical Industry" - J. Kocol]
Necrotizing flesh makes a mess of the bed
The nurses don't care because you are the dead
Not long for this earth, you have to come to grips
They've taken out the feeding tube and intravenous drip
The light is slowly fading, the voices are unclear
This has not been your year
As tens of thousands die, your deductible's sky high
We'll drain your coffers dry; you are the dead
5. All Gut, No Glory
[music - Ross Sewage, lyrics - Ross Sewage]
Blubbering gelatinous mass of lipids and pendulant flesh
An ovoidal organism cursed with cognizance
Bereft of bones, nerves and veins, osmotically gorged
An abhorrent creation, by medical science forged
Corpulent meat, a shambling mess
Birthed in a test tube
Slathered on top with green jelly
For passing as food
[solo: "The Obesity Epidemic" - S.C. McGrath]
Suckling agar in a petri dish
G.M.O. fœtus
Oils are polyunsaturated
Man-made to nourish
Genetic recombination
The meal is now us
Guts excised, limbs paralyzed
Gamma knife neurectomy: all gut, no glory
Sickly obese, brain wave ceased
Excoriating autonomy: all gut, no glory
Once a part of mankind
By doctors, redefined
The spine removed from the back
Now a craven haversack
[solo: "Eat Fast, Die Young, and Leave a Bloated Corpse" - J. Kocol]
Guts excised, limbs paralyzed
Gamma knife neurectomy: all gut, no glory
Sickly obese, brain wave ceased
Excoriating autonomy: all gut, no glory
Gross protuberance
No time for foods masticated
Bio-tech fed with fluids
Frankenfood we have created
Eat! Barf!
Oleaginous being mired in diaphoresis
Left to linger, adipose, suffering in weakness
With genes from yourself and with a few from the zoo
The dish best served cold is you
6. Up The Dose
[music - Sean McGrath, lyrics - Sean McGrath]
Crestfallen and dejected
Wracked with disorder and guilt
Fleeting successes are empty and crumbling
On foundations of trivia, built
Pills to ease your suffering are Pyrrhically proposed
Clinically depressed or just feeling morose? Up the dose
A cursory inspection and you'll be diagnosed; up the dose
Anxiety eats at your stomach
A feeling you've come to accept
The ephemeral comfort of self-aggrandizement
A promise not easily kept
A life spent with banality and platitudes, engrossed
Clinically depressed or just feeling morose? Up the dose
A cursory inspection and you'll be diagnosed; up the dose
Apathy, passivity
Vexation is enshrouded in a chemical gloss
Impenitent, irrelevant
Your lack of personality is no great loss
The potions take their toll
Your will is bought and sold
And broken mind made whole
[solo: "Pills Before Swine" - S.C. McGrath]
Tablets imbibed with detachment
A fixed and emotionless smile
Reality looms with a tenebrous grin
From the dregs in the pharmacist's vial
Refill your prescription for the spectacles of rose
Clinically depressed or just feeling morose? Up the dose
A cursory inspection and you'll be diagnosed; up the dose
Drifting through life in a fugue state
Your brain all but rotten away
To audit behaviour was never an option
You opted for mental decay
Hazy dreams of life before your mind was comatose
Clinically depressed or just feeling morose? Up the dose
A cursory inspection and you'll be diagnosed; up the dose
7. Torture Of Duty
[music - Jason Kocol, lyrics - Ross Sewage]
From an abortive intifada
Combatants are persona non grata
Locked into dank isolation
Sequestered from the population
Made to repose in fæces
Excised from the human species
Walloped and left with hematomata
Disfiguring dermal substrata
Ministry of Love
Asylum of beauty
Fulfilling orders
A torture of duty
Your pain, my medical expertise
Fractured ribs make you wheeze
Calcitrating your abdomen
Beneath my boot, forever pinned
Smashing a sole into your wounds
With micturition, your head is festooned
Genital burns from phosphoric acid
Sizzling glans is permanently flaccid
A metal baton, you will now find
Securely fastened where the sun doesn't shine
Attached to the nipples, electric clamps
Two hundred volts make you crap your pants
In Camp X-Ray
A depraved deputy
Two years hate
A torture of duty
Elbow torquing
Water boarding
Positions stressed
Lago confess
Sanctioned pain from the state will persist
For enemy combatants who don't exist
Your pain, my medical expertise
Fractured ribs make you wheeze
Calcitrating your abdomen
Beneath my boot, forever pinned
8. Masters Of Ordure
[music - Jason Kocol, lyrics - Ross Sewage]
Head to the latrine because you are moved
By a stool wishing to be removed
The colon blows as fissures tear
An exit that's worse for the wear
Into the pipes the fecalith rushes
To join its comrades from 2,000 flushes
Mass of detritus culled from your bung
Aggregating heaps of the dung
Abdominal pain
Sphincter is strained
Sickening mass
Former repast
The sewage du jour
Masters of ordure
Cost-cutting measures are our pleasure
Problems addressed as profit's depressed
What's the solution for the pollution?
Human health stymies inhuman wealth
With feculent flow reservoirs grow
Halt sanitation, clean water privation
For the poor population
[solo: "Civilization and Its Dissed Contents" - J. Kocol]
Shit, filth, waste, bung
Crap, dregs, drek, dung
Filters removed from rivers of turd
Civic responsibility? Absurd!
Snaking its way through antique plumbing
Unaware of the shit storm coming
From your faucet, an aperitif
Reeking of chyme and bowel relief
Slake your thirst with dysentery
The taste is something exemplary
Returned to you
An E. Coli brew
Fill up your glass
It's fresh from your ass
Craprovocateur
Masters of ordure
9. Right To Die
[music - Ross Sewage, Sean McGrath, lyrics - Ross Sewage]
Terminal brain death, skin pocked by bed sores
Mockery of sentience on life support
A feeding tube to insert
Your last wishes to pervert
Dignity denied, an existence to deplore
Platitudes and convictions defending life, we'll offer
So long as there's no cæsura to bills that fill our coffers
Atrophy as muscles wither, alive with decay
Pulmonary function maintained by machines everyday
Vile secretions are collected
Hydrating saline is injected
Hopeless is the cause, still we grind away
Rest in peace we deny
You can have no right to die
Diatribes to deny
Your amoral right to die
A conscienceless will not perceive prolonged suffering
Your pale, half-dead corpse employed for a martyring
A somnambulist to parade
During our right-wing tirade
For us, your vegetative state is all empowering
[solo: "Operation: Life... Sucks" - J. Kocol]
You have lost your right to die
Right to die
10. Dawn Of The Dread
[music - Jason Kocol, lyrics - Ross Sewage]
Mucous dripping from your rectum
Tears roll down your cheeks
Deviating your septum
Halitosis reeks
Organs will ensmultify
Out the maw will flow your sick
As rectal pain intensifies
"A sweeping viral pandemic!"
Tapping your spines, weak and resigned
Dawn of the dread
Imagineering a plague for fearing
Dawn of the dread
Hematomata dot your skin
Anal fissures crack and peel
Blood congealing from within
Parasites attack with zeal
Leaking pox and gruesome boils
Burning fever rips your brain
With excrement, pants are soiled
"Dementia drives you insane!"
[solo: "Universal Health Scare" - S.C. McGrath]
A neurosis from parti pris
Dawn of the dread
Misrepresent maladies present
Dawn of the dread
[solo: "The Sickness Assurance Industry" - J. Kocol]
Weeping pus from every pore
Pearly pyodermal clots
Unnamed sickness to abhor
"Hope is all for naught!"
Marshall power making you cower
Dawn of the dread
Prevaricate disease to create
Dawn of the dread
11. The Last Gasp
[music - Sean McGrath, lyrics - Ross Sewage]
You are the chosen ones
Dubious honor to endure
Castigate your beggared homes
As filthy and unpure
Gorged on dihydrogen-oxide
To depollute
Your domiciles are sanctified
No longer dissolute
Awash in discharged fluids
Their lungs are now imbued
Succumbing to the big drink
A poly-chemical stew
Tongues are soaked in oil
Bowels evacuating gore
The future of this ghetto ward
On Davy Jones's floor
Gale waves unleashed
From the levee that we blew
We did it all years before
Back four-score minus two
Drown the poor like rats
With our tæniafuge
This is the final gasp
Give heed to the great deluge
[solo: "Unchained Malady" - S.C. McGrath]
[solo: "Killing You Swiftly" - Jason Kocol]
Corpses swell to burst
Drenched down to the bone
Survivors left to rot
On rooftops all alone
Atrophying in the sun
They'll expire and putrefy
Then destiny is manifest
Our spoils are purified