Obscene Extreme Festival 2007 Na Bojisti, Trutnov, Czech Republic 5th, 6th, and 7th of July 2007     - OEF Report written by Baz from the UK

Hurrah! OEF '07 was enormous fun, causin' hordes of extreme music fans to ooze out o' the woodwork, their ears ‘n' eyes sheared off in the depths of a three-day blast-binge. Here's my feculent flannel-filled review of my second visit to this annual Grind bash.

•  Thursday

After achieving a jolly state of crapulence in the Gambrinus tent, it was time to enjoy the DJ Dejvy Intro Show, the setlist of which seemed to feature many more old skool

smash-hits than last year, sidesteppin' brootal slamulence in favour of such hot, chart-toppin' celeb-pop groups as Death, Morbid Angel, Sepultura, Napalm Death and Suffocation.

Having become soggified by the inclement weather conditions, the prospect of warmth and sanitation outweighed the rest of the Dejvy set, as well as the Debustrol and

Assassin double Thrash feature, so I can't pass judgement on any o' that.

Upon our return to the party, Behemoth were already soundcheckin' ‘n' smearin' on the corpse-slap! An hour of blackened Death Metal followed, full o' shiny, intricate riffs, extremely deft drumwork and truly vehement vokill rasp, all delivered with much poise ‘n' grimness. The set also gave us an entertaining visual spectacle, with the whole band dolled up to the nines in full BM gear, complete with leather ‘n' PVC apparel, spiky accessories and buckly boots. This was made even more chucklesome by their hairstyles; a receded mullet (un)cut highly reminiscent of 90s kids TV wildlife-show presenter, Terry Nutkins! Very grim.

With last year in mind, I was expecting some grimaceworthy BDSM agony cabaret from the Hell Show, but I daresay they seemed a little below par this time around. Of course, once Behemoth had exited the stage to don large grey Y-fronts and return their kinky suits ‘n' boots to the Hell Show wardrobe, I wandered off for lengthy refreshments, so I might've missed the more extreme hook scenes. What I did see involved frugally clad, heavily pierced pain-ladies wrigglin' aboutstage afore hookin' a stoutish chap dressed as a pig thru his back, winching him up high enough to toss him into a big cardboard meatgrinder. Last year was exceptional, but this year it seemed like no more than S&M pantomime!

•  Friday

Herpes de Crachat de Fillette were an excellent choice of opening band. Their set was a hectic smash ‘n' grab, cut ‘n' shut job of Grindcore, Powerviolence, Brutal Death and Noisegrind, which when coupled with the energetic stage capers of the two vocalists, set the tone beautifully. A heinous racket played by a group disinclined to commit to any one type o' Grind, which meant there was something for everyone! Pubgrind!

Lokill lads G.O.R.E. followed with a stirrin' set of highly agreeable, extremely noddable Grindcore, which seemed to take more traditional approach to the genre than that of their Czech brethren, opting for measured gig-grooves rather than ridiculous speed and raucousness, using solid grunts instead of coiled-tongue piggy-weep. Tight band, catchy songs, amiable frontman, winning performance.

Vulnus drubbed us into a reddish powder with unstoppable Brutal Death Metal, which consisted of pick-up smoulderin' riff muscle-bustle, keen blastular crush and menacin' vokill slobber. One of many performances during the weekend that caused me to hurry to the Grindcore Market immediately, in order to make improvements to my Brootal Death collection.

Dithering shoppin' escapades resulted in missing the rest of the Vulnus set, but I managed to return in time for Afgrund. They played the flip-side of the Obscene coin (which can also land on its third side [the inside] as well as its other two sides), providing the Grindcore sandwich spread of this mid-afternoon Brootal Death snack-bap. Afgrund play strident, no-messin' Swedish eardrum sodomy, serving a lovely combination of rich, satisfying Grind and delicious, chewy Crust to clog us up with stodge! Yum!

Distorted Impalement added lid to bun with further Brootal Death antics, providing us with more than our daily allowance of chugulated slamulence, pilfering the standard bits from Dying Fetus, Brodequin, Devourment, Lust of Decay et al. Stale slams plus cliché rees equals pleasure!

Time for a full-on Crust blitz from Distress, whose set of ‘D-Beat raw shit' was of course based squarely upon an old-skool Hardcore Punk act with an uncannily similar logo design. Large handfuls of dusty ol' Anti-Cimex, Disfear and Amebix shoved then re-shoved thru a Discharge filter. Raw shit indeed!

UK Grind sweeties Narcosis were running late, so Eardelete pressed ahead with their performance. Frequent Czechgrind listeners will probably know that this band is in fact Negligent Collateral Collapse under a new moniker, with an alternative sticksman! Playing floor-fillin' jams from their pressing plant-fresh ‘Zombieology' release, Eardelete plough along in much the same manner as their previous musical incarnation; full of chrome-plated grooves and wet amphibian chokes. Unfortunately, a dreadful live-sound job resulted in imperceptible guitar, bass and cymbals, so the whole lot dissolved in a snare-pot overflowin' with scaldin' hot vokill. This harrowing mixing-desk abuse did seem to settle down a bit over the next few bands though, with a much nicer overall sound all the way up until DEAG.

Life is a Lie slap everyone puzzled with some jarring, anomalous Grind, using an obfuscatory toolkit comprising disjointed riffs, incongruous songwriting, unsettling vokill eruption and wilful off-time delivery. This kind o' Grind, with its mangled keys and torn time signatures, can provide much entertainment on record, and Life is a Lie have certainly practised their stop-start choppy chops, but at a festival arena, many, includin' this reviewer, may disregard this clatter as mere clap-trap.

No confusion with Cliteater however, who treated us to an early evening beating with their charming brand of Porno/Goregrind, replete with lewd grooves and vulgar vokills! With this bawdy, pus-splashed combo of classick RGTE, Dead and CBT, the band came across as much more than just a gaggle of Rompeprop fluffers, crunchin' along with splattery abandon! With hearty Porno platters such as ‘Eat Clit or Die' and ‘Clit ‘Em All', these pudendum enthusiasts had plenty of spaff to lob at us; more than enough to give ol' Rompeprop a run for their money!

Neuropathia offered further gruesome fun, wrenchin' out some standard yet enjoyable fodder; infectious, heavy Goregrind, or, as the band would have us believe, ‘real Black Metal'. In the face of their fun Satanic gimmickry, Neuropathia have more in common with Pungent Stench, Mucupurulent and Haemorrhage than with Varg, Euronymous, Hellhammer and gang. Enjoyable stuff, although I must admit I listened to most of their set from the safety of the Gambrinus tent.

It's time for another slam or ten as Digested Flesh take to the stage with bulky, blood-smudged Brootal Death daftness. With their severely ugly, blurred riffs and breakneck blasts that all lead you to some hefty chugular pay-off, the band merge seamlessly with the rest of the current Brootal crop that take bits o' Brodequin, chunks o' Disgorge and stick em on' a huge festerin' pile o' Devourment. A bit like very recent Artery Eruption but with tighter songs and longer slam-jams. Highly addictive Brootal fun!

I must admit that due to another dawdlin', hesitant shoppin' trip, I ended up missing the first few Magrudergrind tunes, but managed to catch more than enough of them to have the front of my head skewered off by their wonderfully raucous Grindcore uproar! Miniature songs, strident guitars, frightening blast and shockin' laryngeal splitment were of course the order of the day, makin' for complete high-speed petrifaction! Aaaargh!!

I'd been lookin' forward to Rompeprop for months and months, so I was overjoyed to see them play an immaculate set of groovy Goregrind, featurin' most o' my favourite songs from ‘Hellcock's Pornflakes' and their split with Tu Carne, along with one or two from ‘Menstrual Stomphulk'. This style suffered somethin' of a groove fall-out when Mucupurulent started to wear the same pair of Entombed riffs song in song out, Gut suddenly reeked of cod-Hip Hop and Cock and Ball Torture changed into Cock and Coal Chamber, while upcoming acts at the time all discovered MIDI and mushies, thus Rompeprop became the saviours of Pornogrind! They masticate the best bits of the aforesaid acts afore regorgin' em all in a chunky pool o' delicious grooves, rampant catchiness ‘n' revolting pitchshifted vokill borborygmus! As with the previous four or five bands, the whole set benefited from quite a perspicacious sound technician, whose deft fader ‘n' pot twiddlement ensured their efforts came across like nothing less than a bile-spattered chrome harpoon! Highly tight musicianship, cheezoid fake-blood make-up and affable stage presence further increased the appeal, with Dente retchin' out some hot ‘n' moist eructations into one mic, regaling the crowd with song-anecdotes thru another. I thoroughly enjoyed the show but I think ‘The Dolphin Spray-Hole Fucker', ‘Rompeprop', ‘Vaginal Luftwaffe' and ‘Dislocated Purple Stoma' were probably the highlights. A faultless set o' first-rate Porno/Gore! Acquire their entire discography.

Time for another lively, Crust-laden stompabout, instigated by UK veterans, Extinction of Mankind! Playing from their Crusty hearts, the band turned out infectious, grime-coated riffs, pummellin' drumwork and some rather bulky bass rumble, all led by a red-raw, ale-soaked throat! Although decidedly timeworn, this outburst of Crustpunk bluster was nonetheless entertaining, providin' us all with an excellent shout-along, jig-about soundtrack, culminating in the immortal ‘Axe to Grind'! I could've done without such embarrassing dad-Punk stage banter as ‘Right then, sorry there's none o' this fuckin' roooar, roooar, reee, reee bollocks, this is fuckin' CRUST!' and ‘Thanks to everyone for travellin' from Czechoslovakia…', but other than that, undiluted Crusty jubilation!

Next, professional malpractioners General Surgery donned their spattered jackets ‘n' picked up their rusted tools afore carvin' us all into tiny lil' scraps. Grindin' out many limb-snippin' hymns from recent masterpiece ‘Left Hand Pathology' alongside just a few Goregrind anthems from good ol' ‘Necrology', the band were on more than fine form. This was the sound of ‘Symphonies' and ‘Necroticism…' twisted into a repulsive mass, then galvanised with a granular Entombed-like liquid, all aided by a dexterous ‘n' insightful sound-desk job that really brought out their grime-caked morgue sound. An orgy of flying limbs and gore indeed!

As I'd hoped, Rotten Sound were firing on all cylinders, makin' short work of our skulls with riotous Swedish Grind. Ever since Talarczyk unfortunately popped ‘em, a gapin' gap appeared on the face o' the scene; a putrid canker sore only just filled by ‘Grind Finale' and Coldworker. However, my jittery Nasum withdrawal soon turned my attention towards a lot of their already established fellow Swedes, one of such being this here band, who take a similar path, only with less mid-paced moshfulness and more high-speed grindin' din! Here, Rotten Sound pounded along rapidly, verily, and although a sudden muddiment of sound quality sucked some of the liveliness out of it, the band played a furious, blast-heaped set.

After a long wander outside OEF, I missed Zubrowska, The Arson Project and Festa Desperato, and returned slobberin' in anticipation of Czechgrind barmpots Destructive Explosion of Anal Garland, but the band unfortunately fell foul to the same laughably poor sound job as Eardelete. Every last snifter of audible groove was sucked into viscous vokill-quicksand, leaving just a scratchy fizz, dimpled with thousands of pan-lid-like snare-dents. On ‘Sealing off the Vagina by Sewer Lid', the band personify potty Czechgrind but here, this scribe was straining to the point of ear-canal prolapse to make out even one of their lovely grooves under the ensuin' live-sound sewage. Washout.

It's time for some fun crowd alienation as, almost twelve hours after their scheduled slot, Narcosis take to the stage, bringin' a thoroughly putrid atmos with along with ‘em. Whilst the band sound-checked behind him, my old Traumatized Records colleague and ex-Stinking Fuck bandmate Jamie found himself a loutish pastime, deriding the crowd with foul-mouthed abandon. The lengthy soundcheck needn't have taken place at all, ‘cos when the band erupted into their extremely fast, repulsive brand of UK Grind-judder, the whole thing was reduced to a scraggly pile o' muddled fuzz-puddin'. Unabashed, the band grimaced ‘n' gurned thru several numbers, with Jamie takin' a pugnacious, Putnam-damaged approach to live performance, jostling would-be stage-divers back off the stage, seizing their inflatable Spongebob guitars, distributin' kicks to the front row faces and riling some already incensed Crusty punters almost to the point of pulpin' his head in! Hilariously, owing to his other chavulated capers: tinny mobile phone speaker to mic, predictable toddler gag and enraged demands of ‘Gimme the fuckin' mic back y'dick'ead!', he came across more like the Grindcore equivalent of MC Devvo! Clear representation or not, Narcosis managed to play a set of terrifying, explosive Grind, which ended abruptly with a clearly irate Johnboy takin' the mic in order to vent his frustrations with the poor live-sound. A sudden joltin' end to the first day!

•  Saturday

After a mere four and a half hours sleep, I returned to Na Bojisti after the performances by Brootal Death openers Morbidium and Cutterred Flesh, but just in time for Critical Madness, who commenced with a meritorious set of enjoyable Gore. Rather than immediately ransackin' the already dog-eared back-catalogues of Carcass, Dead Infection, RGTE and the like, the band use the similarly threadbare early 90s portion of the Napalm Death discog as a sturdy base, adding to it just a few measured splashes of the aforementioned acts. A commendable performance, but ‘cause I hadn't had chance to eat, drink or even wake up correctly, I'm afraid I couldn't properly enjoy them. I might listen to their recorded work, then kick my own face off for being so aloof.

I was impressed with recent Exit Wounds EP, ‘17 Wounds of Exit', and equally so with their mid-mornin' performance. They played a brief set of extremely quick Grind with just a dash o' Powerviolence, consistin' of volatile drumwork, harsh ‘n' grating riff-menace and that all important hysterical rasp! Both Exit Wounds and next band Firing Squad had me salivatin' grotesquely at the thought of further ridiculously high tempos from Yacopsae later on!

Whilst Firing Squad cooked up an absolute Fastcore feast of rapid riffs, horrific mic-abuse, hurtlin' blast onstage, I decided to use my guest pass to take a seat backstage with Johnboy and Jamie of Narcosis, for a breakfast interview over reduced fat croissants and double-decaf-light-foam-hazelnut-soya-mocha-latte. Not really. JB was on the rum, I was on the Liptons!

Baz (DC): Eee, I haven't prepared too well, I can't think of a good opening question. Why are you?

Johnboy (Narcosis): Eh? Fuckin' ell, why're you?? That's the worst fuckin' question I've ever had!

Baz: Ok, I'll ask you the most overused ‘n' obvious question in the book, ‘What're your main influences?”

JB: Late-Sixties. But that's not really fast enough. Hendrix. I don't listen to anything else except Hendrix. Whitehouse. D'you like Whitehouse?

Baz: I do, not listened to them or any Harsh Noise for ages though. I used to like to Nurse with Wound quite a bit. What was the first Grindcore record you owned?

JB: (Instantly). ‘Scum! I remember hearin' it on a coach wi' t'lads in Wigan and it blew me fuckin' head off, even though it's a pile o' shite!'

Baz: ‘But that's more cos o' the production.…'

JB: ‘Nah it's fuckin' shit! After that probably Carcass, ‘Symphonies' is fuckin' ace, the first one is fuckin' crap though…'

Baz: ‘It's worth it for the lyrics though…'

JB: ‘I don't pay a lot of attention to ‘em, I've never been a lyricist cos I'm a fuckin' thick cunt!'

Baz: ‘Are you enjoying Obscene Extreme?'

JB: (Indicating in the direction of the stage) All those cunts out there haven't got a fuckin' clue! They know fuck all about ‘fast'!!!'

Baz: (Quoting Bathtub Shitter) ‘D'you drink in celebration each morning?'

JB: ‘I'll drink whiskey, but then feel fuckin' shit about it later!'

Baz: ‘What's your drug of choice?'

JB: ‘Oof, that's a fuckin' good question, hold on, fuckin' drug o' choice! Acid! Yeh, LSD, definitely!'

Baz: ‘What're you opinions on Crust?'

JB: ‘S'alright. But it's fuckin' ruined now though…'

At this point, Johnboy took on the role of the interviewer, askin' me a similar series of questions to the above, before the discussion descended into bawdy quickfire hilarity, most of which went as follows:

JB: ‘What're your main influences?'

Baz: ‘Er, quite hard to say really, depends whether you mean Death or Grind…'

JB: ‘Fuckin' ell! If I'd been asked that I'd've just told you em...'

Baz: ‘Oooh, anything from Crepitation to Cripple Bastards then. Erm, main ones are probably Don Decker, Jay Barnes, Esthero, Bradley ‘Dez' Fafara, Sheryl Crow, El Duce…

JB: ‘What was your first Grind record?'

Baz: ‘It was the Putrid Offal/Exulceration split CD…'

JB: ‘S'a good start is that like, cos whenever you listen to it…

Jamie: ‘Think mine was ‘Morbid Florist'

JB: ‘Eh? Fuckin' ‘Morbid Florist'??! Fuck off wi' that! (To me) What're your opinions on rape?'

Baz: Well, I s'pose it depends on which side of the phallus you find yourself on…

JB: (Taking my lit cigarette but disregarding my iced tea) ‘Can I have a drink? I've stopped smoking y'see.'

Baz: ‘Er, yeh, help yourself!'

JB: ‘Can I spit in yer face?'

Baz: (Perturbed) Erm, yeh, help yourself!'

JB: ‘D'you realise I don't give a fuckin' shit about any of this and I hate you and all these other cunts sat round this table?'

Baz: ‘That's a shame really, ‘cos I quite like you!'

JB: ‘D'you not need to write any o' this down?'

Baz: (Tapping temple) ‘I think I'll remember most of it with any luck, probably won't be in the same order though.'

JB: ‘Have you got about ten gig o' space in yer head?'

Baz: ‘I have, it needs de-fraggin' though.'

JB: ‘D'you think I'm a cunt?

Baz: ‘Not at all.'

JB: ‘D'you think I'm too expressive?

Baz: ‘I like expressive people; I warm to ‘em.'

JB: ‘D'you think I'm a nobhead?'

Baz: ‘Not at all!'

JB: ‘D'you want to punch me in the face?

Baz: ‘Oo no, I think I'm alright for punchin' you in the face at the moment, or ever come to that!'

JB: ‘What d'you think of rape?

Baz: ‘Er…'

JB: (Indicating in the direction of a chap seated in front of us) ‘Would you ever consider fucking that?'

I could hear the opening chugs of Carnal Decay, so it seemed a good time to end the interview and return to the festival. The band played an adept set of gruff Brootal Death with all boxes ticked and all criteria met; chugs, speed, slams, reees. Imagine old Dying Fetus, and maybe Internal Bleeding too, with the most of lead guitarwork snipped out. Quite a lot like Poppy Seed Grinder, only with less glottal vokill splatter and more gravely rattle. Well-greased structures, segmented slam progressions and tight musicianship made for another winning set of Brootal Death, featuring a guest appearance from Johnboy, who briefly evaded the OEF crew to gurn ‘n' grunt with the band, afore being led swiftly away. Standard, slam-driven Brutal Death Metal delivered with heaps o' brawn, beef ‘n' balls!

Next, further contenders for the most illegible logo on the bill, Satan's Revenge on Mankind took the stage in second-hand-shop pathologist togs to mangle third-hand riffage into a pile o' fourth-rate Gore/Death. The band deal strictly in brain-dead buzzsaw riffs, lowbrow blasts, prehistoric structures and scruffy vox which, coupled with the dreary live-sound, resulted in a rather substandard set.

Whilst makin' further purchases in the market, I couldn't escape the inhuman racket onstage as Tinner picked up where Firing Squad left off, crushin' teeth in with another torrent of blurry, frenetic riffs and hectic blast.

Enjoyable ear shattery from Hybrid Viscery came next, with two vocalists, heads clad in funny balaclavas, tradin' growls ‘n' shrieks whilst the rest o' the band wrenched out vicious blasts o' grindin' fury behind them. According to the HTML equivalent of freebase cocaine, http://metal-archives.com, it seems that members of this act are not averse to slappin' on corpse-cosmetics, even havin' connections with mirthful Black Metal band, Enthroned! No insectoid guitarwork or Satanic theatrics here though; Hybrid Viscery play chaotic Grind with a smatterin' of Brootal Death bits. Mostly catchy ‘n' noddable, and though a few bits ‘n' bobs were hard to follow it didn't really matter too much, seein' as most songs were often over in less than ninety seconds. A fun set.

Elysium, who didn't appear, were apparently replaced by Freaknation. However, another trip to the refreshment area for vegan nibbles ‘n' delicious, foamin' ale resulted in missing their entire set, and the sloppy, non-descript Goregrind puthering from the flatulent speakers inside the Gambrinus tent muffled much of their efforts.

Attemptin' to follow the Rompeprop set with your own artistic expressions of Pornogrind is an unappealing task, but Hymen Holocaust had a good stab at it all the same. I daresay I find their recorded work lacklustre; oozing snugly into a trite Porno/Goregrind niche shared with the likes of such surplus slop stock as Bitch Infection. However, the live performance was rather enjoyable, and did well to take the edge off my ragin' Porno cravin' which began immediately after the Rompeprop set last night. Brain-dead, ham-fisted stuff, its blatant worship of all favourite abbreviation friendly acts such as CBT, LDOH, RGTE and CUM, resulting in material akin to old Amoebic Dysentery, Abosranie Bogom and Necrobestiality. Nice, writhin' grooves, temporarily effective but instantly forgettable.

Due to travel troubles, Enthrallment couldn't make their scheduled slot, and were replaced with UK Crust outfit, Give Up All Hope. An energetic, convincin' performance, but their material is little more than pint o' mild ‘n' plain crisps Crust; reliable, satisfyin' and you know exactly how it's goin' to taste! Soon, an extended trip to the Gambrinus gazebo became my main concern, so I missed their last few numbers along with most of the Strebehilfe set.

Vae Victus put in an enjoyable Crust/Punk orientated performance, although they were heavily hampered by an abominable guitar sound, which left a trail o' vile, waspy frequencies through the entire set. This made it difficult to follow much of it, although the repetitive yet engagin' rhythm section and torn throat yowls ‘n' growls carried the Crusty flow about a third of the way, before the shrill six-string high-freq shriek dragged the whole thing into shambolic Crusty commotion.

I'd been anticipatin' Sublime Cadaveric Decomposition almost as much as I'd been looking forward to Rompeprop, so I was overjoyed to take in this obliterative eruption of repulsive Death/Goregrind. Upon acquirin' their debut disc about five or six years ago, I can distinctly remember scrabblin' on the floor to ravel up my flabbergasted face after the first listen, and my reaction to their live performance was very similar. With a back catalogue rangin' from persistent, piston-like Gore on the Rot split and that classick debut, the Brootal slant of ‘II', with forays into moshable bounciness on their most recent platter, SCD always provide crushin' listenin' (dis)pleasure, so the set deliciously coagulated into crushin' rhythmic devastation, rounded off with those implausibly low-pitched, inhuman vokills. Probably the most impressive (dry) vokills of the entire festival and easily the deepest I've heard for quite a while, making those of Suffocation, Mortician and, heck, even Demilich sound like the delightful, angelic crooning of a young choir boy with severely undescended, hairless testicles. Buy all their stuff immediately.

Mucopus were easily the bounciest ‘n' bubbliest Slammin' Brutal Death band of the weekend, supplyin' us with king-size, 100% extra free, vacuum-packed ‘big-eat' chunks of instant-fix chug-u-like, ready to slam straight from the pack! Interspersed with heavy crowd participation, their set combined the jolliest Jungle Rot jun-juns, the silliest Stabwound slams and the cheeriest Soils of Fate chugs, the sole intention being to indulge us all in guilty Brootal Nu Metal pleasure! With their reassuringly phat hooks watertight groove and guttural rasps, Mucopus are out-and-out crowd-pleasing slam-tarts!! Weeeeep!

Next of all, Birdflesh took to the stage in some rather chortlesome costumes, ready to get us all jumpin' about the place and spillin' Gambrinus along to their superb Grindcore uproar. With highlights including the wonderful ‘Coffinfucker' and jolly car-crash homage ‘The Rolling Massgrave' from the indispensable ‘Night of the Ultimate Mosh', the band played a charmin' collection of exuberant Grindcore party anthems! Among the finest signings to the extensive Razorback Records roster, Birdflesh offer the most complete good-time Grindcore package of recent times; extremely catchy tunes, excellent dual vox, token Thrash tint, daft outfits, crap logo and a good sense of humour!

Straight from the heart of the fecund Illinois scene, Waco Jesus arrived complete with flags ‘n' banners, ready to assert their total detestation of anything with a vulva by means of a punchy yet stodgy set of misogynistic Brootal Death/Grind. Each tune follows homogenous progressions o' destructive riff-rumble, nicely supported by plenty of burly drum-work with lots ‘n' lots of bright cymbal crashery, the accompanying twat-hate tirade recited via husky barks ‘n' gruff bellows. Though they originate from a state swarmin' with Brutal Death acts, the ubiquitous slams and readily available reees in their area haven't rubbed off on the them too much, ‘cause neither feature too heavily in their material, optin' instead for a more constant pussy-pulpin', Grind flavoured stomp. Comparisons to their lady-part loathin' associates Lividity are unavoidable, given the robust, flowing rhythms and the front-bottom bashin' approach to pennin' lyrics. A nice, solid set includin' hits from career highlight ‘Filth', patchy yet catchy new disc ‘Receptive When Beaten', and a few from the horrid debut. You've gotta love ‘em.

Grave take to the stage for a good hour of good old skool Swedish Death Metal, playin' a flawless set o' piled up classicks, treatin' us to such anthems as ‘Bullets are Mine' and ‘Deformed' alongside more recent (de)compositions. Jus' like Entombed and Unleashed, the band serve hearty, traditional Death Metal; engrossin' rhythms, monolithic groove, gleamin' leads and bona fide death GROWLS. Fortunately, an exceptional sound quality ensured every ounce of their machine-like gnash came across with enormous clarity. At 23, I'm probably too young to have perceived the set as ‘nostalgic', havin' not discovered Death Metal until about '98, but I can only imagine the set reminisced of a simpler time when bands of the day were not at all concerned about stuffing innumerable, technical ‘ooo, look at me go!' riffs into every minute of every song, or mindless slammin', or gravity blastin' come to that. If they were from the North of England, they'd probably say ‘Eeeee, in my day there were none of these ‘reeeees'!'

To re-dress the balance between Death ‘n' Grind, Brutal Truth appeared onstage next, with a good, long set of fuzz-soaked classicks, chock full o' filthy, swaggering riffs ‘n' twisty, convoluted drummin'. The man Lilker was a blurry mass of sinewy limbs ‘n' fluffy locks, yankin' out lengthy hanks of steel bass-line to further emphasise the mighty grindin' clout goin' on beside him. Apart from few unfortunate sound gaffes, some of which extracted the guitar from the mix altogether, this was a very entertaining, stirrin' performance. However, although it featured many a much-loved tune, I would've liked just a few more from ‘Need to Control', but that ‘n' the blobs o' twatty sound aside, this was an invaluable appearance from these drug crazed Grind-freaks!

Impressive as they were, Brutal Truth were simply not Yacopsae, who immediately established themselves as the most expeditious band of the weekend, suddenly explodin' into thirty minutes of cranium-powderin' Turbo Speed Violence!! The rate at which this band performed their material was ludicrous; each choppy ditty packed solid with impossibly quick guitarwork, clipped-off micro-grooves, fast tongue-shreddin' vokill-yammer and frenetic blastin'! Between songs, the warm amicability and cute nerviness of frontman Stoffel made their monstrous racket all more damaging each time it erupted, beggin' the question ‘How can such a nice chap make such a terrifying sound?!' I would've liked more songs, but given that the band can easily fit three full releases onto a single compact disc, one really shouldn't complain. On record, it's easy to assume that the flawlessly tight stops ‘n' starts have been subject to rigorous dynamic processin', but the band somehow managed to recreate them live with ease. This was an excellent, unforgettable show. Playing this fast ought to be prohibited.

Pigsty had the extremely unpleasant job of followin' that Blurcore typhoon, but went ahead with anyway with some charmin' chunky Czechgrind. Along with Ahumado Granujo and Cerebral Turbulency, Pigsty were one of the first bands in this scene that I got into, and I must say I've been (meat)hooked ever since the Cataveiro split! Openin' with the highly appropriate title track ‘Pigs are Back' from their new album, the band greedily chomped their way thru a set of premium Czechgrind; lots of deft tempo-changes, mangled riffage and multi-coloured vokill exaggeration. Although the set proffered such truffles as ‘Thief of Ganja', I don't think they played anything from crawly fave ‘Spiders'. Of course, jus' like Alientation Mental, the band have a fun Nu Grind alter-ego, what with their the handy, pocket-sized Nu Metal segment on the new album and their amusin' Rage Against the Machine covers, so I was a bit disappointed that I didn't get to see that side of Pigsty live. Other than that, a winning set! I did want to watch Sillygrind band 2 Minuta Dreka, but by this time I'd had more than my fill of live music, so it seemed the perfect time to leave Obscene and go oxygenate the brain with a Warp Records compilation or something.

So there we have it. A superb festival that I highly recommend to everyone who has more than a small fondness for Grind, Gore, Death or Crust! You must go!

- Obscene Extreme 2007 Fest Report written by the eight wonder of the world, The Elephant Memory-man, Baz