disincarnate

Missed Connections 2018 Edition: Three Overlooked Anniversaries

The end of any year begs for reflection, and what better way than anniversary articles to celebrate the music community. Invariably, we missed some crucial anniversaries last year — so, sticking to the rules for this retrospective round-up, at least a decade must have passed for inclusion, and the number of years between original release dates and 2018 must end in a zero or five.

As with every list of this nature, I chose a fraction of a fraction of deserving albums; feel free to share others that you deem worthy in the comments section.

DisincarnateDreams of the Carrion Kind (1993)

James Murphy earned notoriety as a guitar god with stints in Cancer, Death, and Obituary, but only with Disincarnate could he flex full songwriting muscle and craft one of the greatest death metal albums to date. Riff after memorable riff levels listeners with nightmarish tones containing crumbs of Murphy’s previous experience reformed into a unique pastry. Drummer Tommy Viator nails every twist and turn without invading the songwriting, while vocalist Bryan Cegon provides an example of how to both growl and complement the music. That’s all fine and dandy, but we really came for the guitar solos, which reach Randy Rhoads-grade on the genius scale. Had death metal’s initial wave thrived beyond 1993, Disincarnate may have released more material… but in the meantime, relive Dreams of the Carrion Kind above.

Morte MacabreSymphonic Holocaust (1998)

Just as Fantomas later achieved on The Director’s Cut, Morte Macabre impressively reinterpreted cult movie scores on Symphonic Holocaust but with considerably less bludgeoning of the source material than the Patton-led troupe. Rather than swallow all available oxygen, this Swedish group played to the compositions and unearthed the dread lurking around every corner, an approach highlighted through both bands’ interpretations of “Lullaby” from the film Rosemary’s Baby. Comprised of members from prog bands Anekdoten and Landberk, Morte Macabre set their stage through an occult rock filter and excel at restraint. The result, aided by the heavy use of a mellotron, could have been convincingly released at any point in the past 50 years (or even the next 20.)

Killing JokeKilling Joke (2003)

Not every band can claim two self-titled releases in their discography, but then again not every band bore the name Killing Joke. After a six-year hibernation, Jaz Coleman and company returned with ardent intellectual masculinity poised to topple any agency stupid enough to stand in their way. No interpreter could mistake their stance: they do not like nor approve of the perceived global takeover, and they want you, the listener, to rage and rebel against its momentum. To achieve this, the band transfers pain, aggression, and chaos at every step. Coleman sounds absolutely possessed behind the mic and filled to the brim with equal parts love and hate. Even if you don’t share his experiences, you’ll raise your lighter to his struggles during “You’ll Never Get To Me.” Geordie Walker writes riffs with which you can shave: lean, clean, and perfect. These two function as one, but Dave Grohl steals the show, pounding his kit with the ferocity of a youngster whose livelihood depends on this gig. Walker and Grohl together bring down the house for “Asteroid,” a convincing soundtrack for a drunken midnight brawl in a crowded strip club.

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