Originally written by Chris Redar
Carnivorous Urge To Kill is a re-issue of the 2002 effort from Baton Rouge death metal act Suture. According to the press kit, there was “interest in the material.” Odd choice of words there, press kit writer, as there has to be some sense of irony in feigning interest in material that is thoroughly uninteresting.
The band’s interests, as quoted directly from their facebook page, are “your mom.” They mean your mom, of course. My mom wouldn’t be interested in this brand of cut-and-paste Frankenstein DM. Carnivorous Urge To Kill wears its influences like a flannel over a stained wife beater. One section is sewn with Tomb of the Mutilated, another with Foreshadowing Our Demise, and is that a couple of checkers of Pierced From Within tattered there by the cuff of the sleeve? Suture should have hired a better seamstress for this garment, because this patchwork is bereft of the patterns and cross-stitching that made the aforementioned albums so interesting in their time.
(Speaking of interesting, did you know that you can get arrested for pissing in your own yard? In some states, you even have to register as a sex offender if caught. Keep that in mind the next time you’re up drinking until two in the morning and I live… I mean you live across from a supermarket notorious for speed traps.)
Anyhoo, another unfortunate circumstance surrounding Carnivorous Urge To Kill is that they apparently took their drum production influence from Mortician. There’s simply no power behind the kit. No thud, no bam, no bang, no boom, no pow. One has to wonder if the idea was to de-emphasize the somewhat lackluster combination of semi-speed blasts and baseline groove parts. The effect it has on the overall package, however, is to de-emphasize the interesting guitar parts, which are few and far between. Though it must be noted that pre-penultimate track ‘Carcinoma Contagion’ comes out of nowhere with this little creepy riff at the beginning that’s potential brain peanut butter. It’s mighty interesting that it’s placed so late in the running order.
(Speaking of interesting, did you know that if you hand-write a letter to Philip Morris and complain about a pack of cigarettes, they will send you a free carton? Now that’s a company that stands behind its product. It’s a terrible product that will kill you and you are strongly advised to quit immediately, but still. Not a bad deal. Shit, for that price, I’ll take two! Ha, ha, ha…)
This album is eleven years old. Still, this would have sounded like a bar band, even in 2002. Everyone knows that sound: The guy from work who’s into this kind of stuff that knows a guy who just bought an Iron Cobra and wants to jam wants you to come to a show they booked down at McSweeney’s two weeks after they started playing together. That’s this album in a nutshell: A well-rehearsed but poorly executed forty-five minute headache waiting to happen. And McSweeney’s always puts way too much head on their drafts. Not interested, guys.