Seven years ago, Municipal Waste’s now-classic Hazardous Mutation burst out as part of the big thrash revival — “revival” meaning “popular with the kids again,” since thrash never really went away. Hazardous was exactly what legions of bullet-belted youths were looking for: It was aggressive, fun as all shit, rifftastic, and most importantly, there wasn’t an ounce of 90s groove in sight. It was thrash with a punk aesthetic, but never quite went into full crossover mode.
However, if that album was a great way to punctuate a youthful revival, it was also the best evidence that such things aren’t meant to last. Either a scene has to evolve (thank you, Vektor), or a band is so fuckin’ magical the same thing can be done over and over with continual excellence (and Municipal Waste, you are no Motörhead). When the sound in question would fit a Pennant celebration for Ricky Vaughn, something eventually has to give. You’ll notice that none of the 80s party-thrash/crossover bands have been releasing albums consistently since. People get tired.
The Waste kept their full-bore-blitz largely alive on both The Art of Partying and Massive Aggressive, if not to the level (or can’t-be-duplicated freshness) of Hazardous. But the bender eventually tames even the most reckless, and The Fatal Feast is where Municipal Waste finally begins to sound a bit tired of their shtick. They’ve changed nothing, and their short-song-thrash-with-stock-riffs remains what it once was, but the band sounds noticeably less convincing, and as a result the album can’t maintain its entertainment levels.
Nothing here is an outright failure, and many tracks reach close to the band’s better work, but the makes-me-want-to-listen-to-the-classics vibe is everywhere. Parts of “New Dead Masters” (and several other songs) urge a Suicidal Tendencies run; “Unholy Abductor” begs for Reign In Blood; and tons of the other more pure relentless thrash moments have me reaching for my Teutonic collection. Municipal Waste was never known for having an ounce of originality, but their best material was constructed with obvious love for the style. Much of The Fatal Feast has a “because we’re due for an album” feel to it. Not bad, and at times quite enjoyable, but almost completely unnecessary, not to mention about 10 minutes too long. (So, about 6 too many songs.) Ironically, the best track may actually be closer “Residential Disaster,” which goes a bit out of the band’s comfort zone into galloping, classic-metal-fueled thrash, proving that a touch more variety would do wonders for the band’s longevity.
Still, if anyone is still desperate for more vomit-stained carpets, there is plenty on The Fatal Feast to keep the binge going a bit longer. But as a complete package, this just won’t find its way into the permanent weekend rotation. Municipal Waste isn’t necessarily slowing down, and they sure as hell aren’t evolving, but there is a sense here that they’re having a little less fun nose-diving into a bowl of pure Colombian every night.
The party isn’t quite over yet, but the kegs are empty and some dude no one invited just walked naked through the room.
