Not to harp on recent governmental moves towards regressive fundamentalism, but does this now mean that these (sorta) Belgian death metal greybeards aren’t allowed to exist in Texas after six weeks? Are Lone Star State residents at risk of being strung up for a cool ten grand if they’re caught blasting any of the band’s eleven deep discography? In the end, does any of it matter because the half of the population that doesn’t get felled by COVID are probably going to keel over from BBQ-induced artery clogging and heart failure? Or will the power grid fail with weather extremes and fry everyone in the summer who didn’t freeze in the winter? And just how did a review of the Aborted’s latest album meander into a slamming of Texas (however deserved it may be) anyway?
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Unfortunately, these are the contemplations that were discovered to be bouncing around my cranial dust chamber as ManiaCult ambled and wheezed around in the background. Aborted’s eleventh full-length makes it discouragingly easy to find oneself distracted by external stimuli and invasive thoughts. The disengagement factor is high with this record as you wait for something to leap out and power slam your earholes into the filthy floorboards. Ultimately however, you’re kept waiting.