Originally written by Chris Redar
Some albums make an attempt to distract you from the fact that they are as limp and lifeless as the corpses depicted on the cover with all manner of studio chicanery. Why write a song with any mood or feeling when one can simply trigger the shit out of the drums and wank about the fretboard aimlessly? It’s like one of those jean jackets people used to wear to Bon Jovi concerts back in the ’80s. (And probably today. I wouldn’t know; I haven’t been to a Bon Jovi concert since, well… ever.) All of the fringes and handwritten Slippery When Wet logos can’t disguise the fact that the wearer of the cloak is a vapid husk, devoid of both emotion and meaning.
Dresden, Germany’s Deathrite isn’t one of those bands, and they most likely won’t list Bon Jovi as an influence. This is no-frills, punk-influenced grindcore, and it’s fucking littered with tiny percussive miscues. This, however, makes for quite an interesting listen. It’s as if they were so anxious to assault eardrums with their Napalm Death by way of Genocide Superstars powerbomb that they recorded Into Extinction live and just threw it out there.
After the obligatory sample that opens “Forsaken Tombs” (if you’re looking to fill your Grindcore Bingo sheet at home, put a marker on Hellraiser IV – it should be in between The Shawshank Redemption and the Troma Bonus Spot), you get, in essence, the basic layout for Into Extinction:
1. Huge blast section
2. D-Beat
3. Dropping out of the bottom for groove portion
4. Short fade-to-abrupt ending
You’ve got to be kidding me, I can hear you saying to yourself right now. Well, let’s face the facts: grindcore isn’t exactly renowned for its overwhelming variety, and Deathrite works consistently within the limitations of the genre. What they bring to the table is confidence. More specifically, confidence that they’re playing with the conviction and swagger of a band that doesn’t necessarily care if you’re into what they’re doing.
Unfortunately, you might not care after a few too many spins. There is such a thing as too much grind, and Into Extinction teeters on that fine line a couple of times throughout the duration. The monotony is broken up at the halfway point with the instrumental title track and at the finale with the nearly six-minute “The Golden Age.” That’s not to say there aren’t thrills to be had in the meantime, but the classic “Is this track 10 or 11?” question will pop into your mind a time or two. And the vocals, while delivered competently enough, are just monotonous enough to become somewhat grating towards the finish line.
Not unlike the time you thought it would be a good idea to eat an entire pizza by yourself, only to sit on the throne for the remainder of the evening and question the very meaning of existence, Into Extinction is likely best digested in halves. Take a little time to get through the first six slices, and the rest will be just as good the next time you’ve got a craving. Otherwise, it’ll be time for your usual nightly dose of half a bottle of Pepto and regret.
