I love death metal; I would just like to make that abundantly clear. I love the old school tenacity of Deicide and Morbid Angel. I love the old-school-with-a-twist tenacity of Suffocation and Immolation. I love the sneering but melodically juicy bits of At the Gates, Carcass, Entombed, Arsis and the Crown. I love (LOVE!) old Cryptopsy. Hell, I love everything Cryptopsy did up to this year. I love the subtle virtuoso intensity and devastating slams of Dying Fetus. I love the decidedly non-subtle virtuoso intensity of Necrophagist, Decapitated, and Psycroptic. I love the outside-the-box thinking death metallers like Nile, Vital Remains, and Portal (though I understandably spend a lot of time defending the latter). I love other death metal bands and sub-genres (along with sub-genres of sub-genres) I’m probably forgetting. It is with this love that I say that Death Rituals, the latest album by Six Feet Under, is a fucking abomination. It taps into everything that makes for bad, bad death metal to an extent where if it were a hair worse, it would be a war crime. But instead, it’s just bad. Even shameful. A cancerous mole on the ass of death metal. Simplicity is one thing, good sirs; an apparent lack of any sort of effort is another.
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