Although They Really Don't Mind It, They Are the Lord of Your Flies

Lucid Interval, Cephalic Carnage's latest, has been described as containing many "mathematical time signatures." But this is written from the standpoint of someone who thinks counting above four quickly or stopping and starting without warning are remarkable accomplishments. It's not a compliment you could show to your kid years from now without him laughing at you.

More accurately, the record is excrement, which—as everyone knows—does contain nutrition. But only that which sustains the kind of life most would rather not have anything to do with: e.g., the social juvie-geek equivalent of maggots and flies.

The makers of extreme metal—which is not so out there, the head nodded twice while listening to CC at high volume—think of themselves as clever class cutups, too. One can point to Cephalic Carnage's colleagues Nile as the genre's humorists insofar as they've pulled off the wonderful trick of convincing ninnies they're Egyptologists by combining blast beats and titles like "Chapter for Transforming into a Snake."

But on Lucid Interval's jerry-built-to-order grindcore, even the intended jokes aren't up to snuff. "Cannabism's" mean Cheech-and-Chong parody of Mexican-restaurant musicians fails because CC don't perform it quite wretchedly or repetitively enough to convince one they were smoking primo weed. And though "Black Metal Sabbath" almost scores, it's spoilt by the act's pitiless imitation of James Hetfield imitating a Swedish death-metal singer.

 
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