Deicide - Till Death Do Us Part Review
by Matt Hensch
Deicide's ninth full-length record blows chunks, even after being hailed as a mixture between The Stench of Redemption and Legion. How sad, right? The band hit a homerun with the melodic intensity of The Stench of Redemption and was actually idolized when Legion twisted brutality into new forms. Sadly, Till Death Do Us Part is a parody of those great works, serving as a haven of comical emotions if nothing else. Being serious, this effort resembles yesterday's death metal superstars becoming a horrendous flapjack of their own image; this album a grotesque stab at reclaiming an outdated crown by enlisting nothing new, original, or even decent. In fact, I am officially divorcing Deicide from my CD player after hearing them degrade so painfully during this atrocity.
Till Death Do Us Part can be summed up in one phrase: tasteless death metal that provides the very definition of unoriginal feces. Jack Owen and Ralph Santolla once again wield their chainsaw guitars, but a new toxin of egoism and narcissism consumes Owen's identity while slowly overshadowing his work on Till Death Do Us Part. Furthermore, his great riffs and solos completely fall beyond Santolla's upcoming popularity. Something seemed missing, so I checked the inner booklet, and here is what it says on EVERY song: Lead Guitar – Santolla. Jack is listed only a few times, while Ralph and even Steve Asheim (the drummer) solo more; that is how Deicide treats its icons, I suppose. Looking already pompous and arrogant, simple riffs one can find on any death metal release contaminant the music all around with useless melodies and pseudo-heaviness, minus any intelligence, of course. Tell me where former guitarists Eric and Brian Hoffman are instead, please?
Glen Benton's unilateral lyrics meanwhile, are a betrayal of the album's credibility. I personally foresaw a new frontier in Deicide's evolving nature when Benton announced his Satanic/anti-Christian charade would finally meet its end this album. A conceptual tale about the horrors of marriage, Till Death Do Us Part ironically penetrates a laughable paradox right when "The Beginning of the End" finishes its instrumental attack. Soon after, Benton's worn growls pathetically rant against Christianity while circumnavigating dull descriptions of love. Our cracked idol then desperately tries stitching each category together, a method producing an effort that receives divorce papers before its vows. I guess utilizing different turbulences is just too much work for these "legends," even on something as simple as lyrical themes.
Musically, everything looks equally disappointing. Steve Asheim, for one, has no presence on his kit. Using identical patterns from The Stench of Redemption, we see minimal change besides frequent blasting and a cluster of slowed textures that can honestly show up whenever the generic "death metal" label is present. Benton, as expected, sounds like himself, which is fine, but I am not soiling myself over it.
Till Death Do Us Part is a failing collection of jugulating anthems lurking throughout its stone halls, and Deicide's lack of bohemian qualities slowly chips away at the listener's patience, leaving all metal fans disappointed and bored. As Deicide continues to truck along throughout their ninth opus of one-dimensional plastic, things start weak, and never improve; they have officially cheated on all poetic abilities detectable on prior offerings for senseless death metal. Marriage sucks, and so does this album.
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