Sometimes there's no deeper meaning to a piece of art. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, right? Metal is definitely prone to beard-stroking pontification, with regular sounding albums being explained by the band as a concept album about the cycle of life and death, or the history and downfall of some fictional civilization that nobody but the writers care about. Bands like to go on about philosophy and psychology and tend to try exploring those themes on a surface level, but ultimately just write more tunes about death and satan. And hey man, that's all cool! I've read Camus, I have deeply held beliefs and interests, my worldview is shaped by many things that I'm sure I'd want to inject in my music. I'd love to write music that delves into the intricate lore behind the writings of Lovecraft, Howard, and Smith, it's totally natural.
But sometimes it's just nice when a band drops the pretense and just aims for naked filth from the opening notes and makes no intention of hiding what they're about. And when the opening notes of a track called fuckin' "Baptized in Filthy Semen" first tore through my speakers, well let's just say I knew exactly what I was going to get and Grave Violator fucking delivered on that front.
Back to the Cult doesn't really do anything interesting on a musical level, it's just by the numbers black/thrash with raspy vocals and razor sharp riffs, and that's all something like this needs to be. The entire appeal here is the same as an early John Waters flick like Pink Flamingos or something. It's just pure, unrefined trash with no other purpose other than shock value, and while it lacks the sardonic wit of GWAR or something, it makes up for the lack of cleverness with sheer unabashed attitude. Odes to debauchery, sacrificial murder, and bumfights are abound in a style reminiscent of the primitive, bone shaving ravenousness of Sarcofago or Impaled Nazarene. Back to the Cult straddles the line between black/thrash and metalpunk at times but tends to land firmly on the thrash side of the equation. The whole point is to just rip you to shreds with frantic riffing and manic tempos, and that's all it tries to do. There are a few atmosphere-building acoustic sections but they're brief and always give way to more blasphemy and degeneracy. This is offensive stuff, even to me personally! I'm a virtue signalling soyboy cuck so lyrics about raping whores does make me uncomfortable deep down, but I've said long ago that you're going to be a simpering joyless turd if you're into metal but can't take tongue-in-cheek shock value for what it is. So yeah I can't defend the lyrical raunch on the basis of the words themselves, but it's so clearly not played straight and performed by a band of clear goofballs whose EPK includes promo pics of them braiding their hair and peeing as a group. It's low level trolling, and that's fine if you hate that sort of thing, but these guys are clearly here to have a good time and absolutely shatter the barriers of good taste, and I can get down with that.
This may not surpass their obvious heroes like Nifelheim or Sarcofago, but punk-infused speed metal like the title track or vicious biting thrash like "Knife Fighter" is just too much fun to put down. It's poo-flecked trash that was rolled around in glitter and used IV needles but sometimes that sort of raunchy, wild west lawlessness is a fucking blast. If there's any sincerity to be found (and obviously this sort of high-speed irreverence is not known for sincerity), it's that I fully believe that these guys are a bunch of perpetually hammered oogles who get their kicks by chugging Olvi and throwing shoes at passing nuns. Do they contribute to society in a positive way? Hell no, but neither they nor I want them to.
RATING: 79%
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