Originally written by Chris Redar
Looks like it’s time for another round of musical leapfrog with Deicide. It seems like every time the Florida Blasphemy Brigade(tm) bangs out an Oscar-worthy performance, they follow it up with something barely fit for the AVN awards. After Ralph Santolla shot his lead load all over 2006’s devastating The Stench of Redemption, listeners were treated to the blank-shooting and ultimately half-cocked ‘Til Death Do Us Part. Possibly sensing some dissatisfaction on the part of their hardcore fan base (and possibly some feigned enthusiasm), the band decided hard, fast, and heavy was the way to go on To Hell With God. The driving rhythm section was nothing short of methodical, providing a brutal pounding to accompany the wailing guitars and deep-throated madness of Glen Benton.
Unfortunately, we’ve landed on an even number in post-Hoffman albums, and In the Minds of Evil sees Deicide taking dicking around to a shower-floor-staining low point. This album is thirty-six minutes long, but it feels like a fuckin’ eternity in headphones. The reasons for this are many and varied; the opposite of any of the material found here. Let’s start with the main minus sign: boring and derivative everything. Not boring and derivative as in Deicide cannibalizing their own material and regurgitating it with a new album title (that, honestly, would have been just fine), but boring and derivative as in this is completely interchangeable with any other modern death metal album from the past ten years, and any track is interchangeable with any other track.
This is also the least inspired effort since In Torment In Hell. There’s nothing to indicate any party involved in this recording is enjoying anything they’re doing. The solos are existent, sure, but the delivery feels like Jack Owen and Kevin Quirion are just trying to get that shit over with so they can go back to talking about which razors feel best against one’s own bald head. And Glen Benton, usually a hellfire delivery system, phones these vocals in with all of the passion of a cat being interrupted while licking its own ass. And any oomph provided by Steve Asheim behind the kit is stonewalled by…
Jason fucking Suecof. This dude is to death metal nowadays what Neil Kernon was to death metal about a decade or so ago. Any life In the Minds of Evil might have had is drained and emptied into the gutter by this oiled-up production. This thing is so clean and shiny, you could use it to serve caviar to the guests in your limousine. Thing is, the only thing a Deicide record should be serving you is your own ass as its being force-fed to you with a rusty pitchfork.
If there’s any bright spot here (besides the fact that it ends eventually), it’s that mathematically speaking, the next Deicide album should be a stone groove. Here’s to hoping, anyway, because In the Minds of Evil takes a gamble on playing it safe and loses. Big time. Never To Be Listened To Again.
