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Epicrise/Ballgag - Kublo 69/Tales of a Cornered Bitch Split


Rating:
8.7

Country: Ukraine/USA

Release Date: 2007

Record Label: Ukragh Productions

Track list:
Epicrise
01. Diving Into Curd
02. With a Finger to the Mouth
03. Milk & Dumbells
04. Fatal Anal Error
05. Plexus 69
06. A Girl with the Scrotum
Ballgag
07. Slut Chunks
08. 20-Inch Rimjobs
09. Beef, Beer & a Bitch
10. Douches Wild
11. Man Steak Womanizer
12. Don’t Cum In
13. Triumph
14. Messy Faggot
15. Buffalo Bitch Steamroller
16. Meat and Greet
17. Muf
18. Think About it Later


Band Website: Epicrise/Ballgag

Epicrise/Ballgag - Kublo 69/Tales of a Cornered Bitch Split

 

Epicrise are:

Max - Vocalzzz
Slawko - Guitarzzzz, VoKillzzz
Mychaylo - Bazzzz
Eugen - Drumzzz

Ballgag are:

Pissy - Vox
Mr. Friday - Guitar
Lee Gorebanks - Drums

 

If you're like me, a kind o' red-eyed, slobbery-gobbed reprobate in a holey, stained t-shirt emblazoned with a pus-dribblin' logo, with rather a large penchant for groovy Porno/Goregrind entertainment, then you ought to be highly appreciative of this split! Just look at the ridiculous cartoon cover! Hahaha! What an abundance of pink, wobbly bits. Both bands bulldoze along in a bulbous, groove-laden manner to bring catchy song-throb that dilates ‘n' contracts with chug-engorged adrenal momentum and chaotic blasty clatterment, replete with multifarious vokill inventories! I'm tryin' to focus on keepin' reviews a bit slimmer at the moment, so seein' as I've got two bands to tell you about, I'll try to keep it short ‘n' sweet!

Lets start with Ukraninan outfit Epicrise, for no other reason than that they start off the split, and say that they play some wonderfully over the top, splashy Goregrind, with plenty o' spaff-splattered riffin', a lot o' bowel-slackenin' thud beneath tightly clenched snare clang, lengthy porno-clips and plenty of intra-abdominal gags ‘n' sub-glottal sloshery. Most o' the time, the tunes churn out two textures o' sonic slurry; one is of the runny, cloudy and rapidly gushing variety, whilst the other is chunky, viscous and steady. The vokills spew a colourful pool containin' all manner o' repulsive substances; the guttural portion includes pitchshifted burble, crustulated roars and frowny growls, while the higher end goes from rotten falsettos to hideous whimpers, right the way up to horrific bitchscreams. Whilst revellin' in the human filth, you'll find yourself overwhelmed by fast-runnin', aqueous sewage until a steamin', concretous riff-coprolith ascends from the liquefied turdulence, allowin' you to clamber on for a fun ride down the reekish rapids.

You can expect to hear obtrusive elements of favourite Goregrind acts on this, a nice ‘n' easy example being Dutch luminaries Last Days o' Humanity; you've got the roarin' low-end catchiness of their old stuff along with just a few hints at the skull-splinterin' blastulence of their later works. The vokills carry a distinct, smegulated aroma of Gut and Mucupurulent, employin' that timeless call and response combination o' gentle-giant grunts and snotty, glottal falsettos. At their most feverish, the latter come across like Hemdale-style yelps with the slack daftness o' Purulent Spermcanal, often hittin' bitchy high-notes previously reached only by infamous Pornogore/Noisegrind imbeciles, Intestinal Disgorge. There's also a Squash Bowels feel to some o' this, takin' the accessible groovy euphoria o' The Mass Rottin'…The Mass Sickenin' then playin' it in a sloppier style akin to that of their split with Malignant Tumour or something. Of course, you'll also taste the foul stench o' rotten ol' Regurgitate records, along with the standard Dead Infection odour.


San Antonio scamps Ballgag follow suit with a similarly splattery sound, which offers a batch o' flux-encrusted compositions that use seethin' speed and frantic clatter alongside slithery grooves and chugular bounce, with a nice contrast to the simple formula provided by the stylistically plethoric vokill accompaniment, which is a wobblin', slobberin' fleshy-mass o' day-glo mouth spume! Sloppy, chaotic lines are traded off between scruffy gutturals ‘n' soggy inhalations, with remainin' lyrical (?) matter shared amongst crusty bellows, horrifyin' bitch-screams, laryngeal rasps and miscellaneous vokill absurdities. If the vokill track ‘n' bouncy music is not enough to convince you that Ballgag are a trio o' silly bastards, then look no further than the studio-banter, with which the material is liberally laced. Song-intros consist of puerile toilet-humour monologues, whilst the penultimate track features Pissy utterin' a silly phrase (sounds like ‘Mouthful of her rump' or ‘Muff love rump' or somethin') over ‘n' over, with a different vokill style for each repetition.

As with Epicrise, the tried ‘n' tested methods o' key Goregrind exponents ‘n' essential Pornogrind performers are all put to their umpteenth use here. The band carve greasy grooves out of Rompeprop's stout arse by means of a scalpel set belongin' to Haemorrhage, givin' countless nods to Cock and Ball Torture and maybe a few to Macabre too, while their leisurely-paced, swaggerin' grooves carry a vibe similar to that of Plasma or Stoma. The use of multiple vokill styles, many of which are often deployed within the space of a single verse, reminds me of Drunk on Feces by shit-faced landlords, Screamin' Afterbirth, or a stronger, less haphazard version o' the vokill job on the latest Foetopsy record, with the tongue-in-cheek delivery of Noxious Coitus live sets. The ear-splittin' squeals instantly recall the afore-cited Intestinal Disgorge, which is no surprise seein' as they're performed by their front-bitch, Pissy. Such shrill squawks also remind me of the hideously high-pitched lug-injections administered by Cervical Gag, with a yappy technique similar to good ol' Bathtub Shitter.

To squash the word count (pah!), let's combine the production/packagin'/presentation critique into one bijou, pocket-sized paragraph. Both split sides are of similar sound quality; tum poundin' low freqs, head-twattin' snare-clang and rich vokill thickness spread on top. In the eyes o' this caricature-lovin' reviewer, the artwork and layout is excellent; we've got a lewd cartoon o' orgiastic back-alley debauchery on the front and some wonderful phallus-focused cartoons o' all the band members on the inside, along with some photographs of them in the back-tray, so you can compare ‘n' chuckle. There's a nice photo of Ballgag standin' outside my employers, Borders Books. Come on in lads! I'll give you a nice discount on some damaged erotic fiction, well-thumbed sex manuals or dog-eared amateur photography magazines!

Overall, this split provides highly entertainin' Porno/Gore, with comfortably loose, lo-fi Shitgrind edge. Total indulgence in bawdy decadence.

 

- Review by Baz

March 24th, 2007

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