Good performances solely go to this point. Metallic has a documented and full historical past e book of virtuoso and wild performers alike—dying metallic particularly enjoys dwelling on the extremes of this spectrum of knuckle-dragging to Ph.D. scale flexing. As such, all of us proceed to trudge by way of each gore-infused, dramatically-worded, mono-palette deathfest that emerges from the festering pool of the Crypt NOUN, NOUN[space optional]rot, NOUN Tomb (or Tomb NOUN), and Blood NOUN form. Cruz, who I’m fairly certain isn’t named after Santa or Ted, side-steps the gruesomely embellished epithets splattered throughout the OSDM realm in favor of a moniker as simple as their assault. Hailing from Barcelona, can this younger act dig deviously into 30+ years of vile riff historical past to emerge as mandatory with Confines de la Cordura?
Very similar to the unique mission of a younger Massacre—a self-proclaimed worship band whose first providing is now 20 years outdated—Cruz fuses the punky, dying ‘n’ roll leanings of punchy Swedeath with the bottom-end brutality of the early Florida scene. And, as you may assume, bands like Post-mortem and Entombed already wrote most of the chunky riffs, dirty tempo shifts, and wah-abused leads that outline the circulate of Confines. That’s to not say that Cruz exists completely with out benefit or ardour—these Spaniards care about how they sound and have graced us with a pleasant, spacious grasp that lets each HM-2 crackle punish whether or not muted tightly or rang vast. From that angle, the mesh and mangle of kick and rumble rings clearer than any early 90s try at a heat however shredding soundstage: outdated sounds, fashionable ears.
With each precision and rowdiness in thoughts, then, Cruz performs dying metallic that’s undeniably dying metallic in execution and sometimes pleasant as well. Mid-album spotlight “Els Murs Errants,” even at its 9-minute run, showcases the perfect of what Cruz has to supply: a tasteful synth inclusion, a correct gallop construct, a twisted buzzsaw trem run, and a devolution right into a cement-molded doomdeath crescendo. This sullen saunter drips into the title observe with a waltz-time hum towards a bass growl that rivals Närcís Boter Jaume’s (ex-Stained Blood, Dentellada) personal crust-leaning howl. That’s a very noteworthy feat contemplating Jaume steals the present incessantly, just like the erupting intro to “Eones de Sangre” (and “Infamia Insular”) or the reverb-drenched barks and OUGHs that construct pressure on “Confines de la Cordura.” Not all will take pleasure in this not fairly “metallic” styling because it reeks much less of putrefaction and extra of impending breakdown—however that’s positive by me!
Between the classically moist guitar runs, cut-and-paste drum patterns, and vocals that serve extra as a caustic melody than a dissecting diatribe, Cruz may swap and rearrange a lot of what they assemble to supply marginally completely different, equally satisfying meals. After the marginally subverting, creeping piano intro of “Ai Margini della Follia,” we’re met shortly with a livid d-beat that, with just a few switch-ups and tom breaks, makes the rhythmic basis of practically each piece right here. No matter how distinctive the intro, lightning-picked riffs start to resemble one another (“Als Peus de la Creu,” “Confines de la Cordura”) and vocal tips stagnate (“Infamia Insular,” “Eones de Sangre”). It’s an actual effort to keep up an orientation on the earth Cruz builds for all of the fallacious causes.
But, Cruz scratches an itch and does so with pretty concise and calculated strokes. On a street journey or chugging playlist, this sort of serviceable romp can dissolve pleasantly over the stretch of exit after exit, low-cost thrill after low-cost thrill. Nonetheless, it doesn’t penetrate a lot deeper than that surface-level enjoyment, you recognize the sort—that gut-tickling, lip-curling, eye-glazing fury. Sadly, Confines de la Cordura runs on cruise management; Cruz’s management of kind feels easy, however not in a virtuosic method—it’s merely restrained. This pressure of dying metallic ought to depart me bleeding, screaming, thrashing, however on the finish of Confines de la Cordura, I discover myself, in probably the most disagreeable method, absolutely intact, bowels, blood and all.
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Winter Data | Bandcamp
Web sites: cruzbcn.bandcamp.com | fb.com/cruzmetalpunk
Releases Worldwide: September twenty sixth, 2022