By Steve Weinstein
By Bryan Bierman
By Lindsey Rhoades
By Chaz Kangas
By Ben Westhoff and Sarah Purkrabek
By Jena Ardell
By Jesse Sendejas Jr.
By Katherine Turman
Previously, Pig Destroyer were best experienced in a label promo video, taped at a dingy theater in a cinder-block Philly slum during winter. Seeing the pasty young man with a blemish on his face at the mic inspired sympathy and pity. The drummer and guitarist buried him with a shapeless noise; a company-sized group of guys, wearing baseball caps like helmets, looked on, leaden.
Backstage, the Pig Destroyer frontman frowned at his guitarist who blabbed to the camera that his bandmate was still at home with Mom. The small pleasure of being the subject of a video shoot was wrenched away and soiled by public embarrassment.
Terrifyer, however, improves prospects. Half is a distant sludged opera of dirge metal and fake mellotron called "Natasha." It sounds good in the background or as alternative soundtrack for a muted movie. The other half is evenly split between ol' unlistenable Pig Destroyer nose gold and some throttling conventional riff.