After the let-down of their last album, Six Feet Under are back. Shorn of Ola Englund and the immense presence of Kevin Talley, the band now consists of Chris Barnes and Steve Swanson, along with Jeff Hughell and new drummer Marco Pitruzella. (If you’re worrying about what effect Talley’s absence might have, don’t!) In addition to a new player, the band also welcomes some additional song writing contributions from Cannabis Corpse’s Phil “Landphil” Hall, a man who, given his appreciation for Chris Barnes’ past, should know a thing or two about how to get the best out of this legend. As made clear in my opening gambit, the band’s revolving door of fresh contributors in recent times has had mixed results – from the astounding to the stagnant – but in the case of ‘Crypt of the Devil’, the combination of personalities proves to be spot-on.
‘Gruesome’ is our initiation to the ‘crypt’, its tempered groove exuding a darkness in both riffs and drum patterns which is closer to Barnes’ work with Cannibal Corpse than it is to traditional SFU. His vile thoughts are exhorted all over and while the lyrics may, unsurprisingly, be a step back from those (severed) heady days, the forceful opener indicates the shape of things to come. Next up is ‘Open Coffin Orgy’, a track which initially goes with a vibe similar to the band’s debut before a decomposing bass break drags us into a world of guttural abominations. An interesting point here – one characteristic of the band’s attempts since 2012’s ‘Undead’ – is that despite the odd fairly dull rhythm, the track resists getting bogged down thanks to constant injections of momentum and creepy atmospherics. Later, we encounter a similar situation on ‘The Night Bleeds’, which manages to combine a traditional SFU pace with some inspired touches – including a really well fashioned opening, faster rhythms and sublime outpourings of harmonic solo work.
In fact I can only think of one track which hits wide of the mark in any significant way, and even then it’s mainly due to redundant lyrics. ‘Break the Cross’ has its title repeated to increasingly pointless effect in the chorus before a silly guitar part briefly heightens the sense that breaking the CD might be a better idea. BUT aside from these features there are still redeeming ones elsewhere in the composition; a tendency which definitely separates an album like this from much of the band’s 2000-2012 material. Even more significantly – and as hinted in my description of the opener – the level of quality elsewhere is high. For those who do crave the OTT visions of Barnes’ earlier works, refer to track three. Music has always been far more important to myself than lyrics and on this particular ditty, a completely gnarly atmosphere is conjured as nippy tangents and violent chugs alternate to brutal effect. Clearly, the new contributors have upped the ante here (again, as they did with ‘Undead’) on every level – to the extent that even the lyrics are infected.
On tracks such as ‘Lost Remains’ and the fatalistic ‘Slit Wrists’, tempos shift around to lend a sense of impact and conviction to proceedings. In the former, there’s a particular thrash riff which sticks out as impressive although the slower, threatening passages are equally cool. In contrast to 2013’s ‘Unborn’, elements of nuance, technicality and atmosphere are pulled off in an eminently more interesting and effective manner. On the subject of technicality (and violence), it’s important to give ‘Stab’ a mention. Not only is this track remarkable due to its furious, visceral nature, it is especially so in the sense that it could be mistaken for a Cannibal Corpse tune circa ‘Gallery of Suicide’, with Chris Barnes on vocals… On top of the drum patterns, which contain nods to Paul Mazurkiewicz throughout, on this one, the contracting homicidal riffs sound mightily similar to the Corpse at their best. Given Barnes’ role in putting that band on the map, such similarities can hardly be considered plagiarism; rather, they’re indicative of him in his most fitting context.
Reconnecting to the past has obviously been the objective since SFU’s stable (and often plodding) line-up splintered in 2011. This decision paid immediate dividends in the form of ‘Undead’, which simultaneously involved Chris Barnes and Steve Swanson producing their most technical, brutal work to date. With ‘Crypt of the Devil’, I think the band has gone one step further. The levels of inspiration, consistency and quality (particularly Swanson’s varied contribution) are beyond anything they have produced in the past – including the early releases, which I still enjoy. Perhaps the key factor in setting ‘Crypt…’ apart, however, is the pure conviction behind it. This is an album of unadulterated death metal, pure and simple.
While not faultless, SFU are getting closer to that status than they ever have been.
(8.5/10 Jamie)
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