Originally written by Chris Redar
It’s of the understanding of this writer that Finland’s Corpsessed are being slept on based on the incredible silliness of their chosen moniker. And to be fair, that is a ridiculous name. But to be even more fair, what death metal band doesn’t have an absolutely ridiculous name? Cannibal Corpse? Ridiculous. Morbid Angel? Completely senseless. Naming a band is all about market shares and expenditures for Gildan’s M-XXL black T-shirt department, anyway. How often is any DM band making some grand statement with a stereotypically illegible logo with blood dripping off of every little zig and zag?
Corpsessed aren’t making a proclamation, per se, but the name certainly fits this brand of sludged-up and tuned-down coffin rock. This is what one would imagine death metal would sound like as performed underneath six feet of earth. Abysmal Thresholds’ pace is about as swift as a glacier’s, searching for a mass of land to call home. Surprisingly, this works in the album’s favor. As any great heist movie demonstrates, the payoff isn’t in the foregone conclusion, but in the details that hover above and around the characters and scenery. There is atmosphere to spare lurking in what should be the empty spaces of every corner here, giving a fleshed-out and complete purpose to what, by all means, should sound hollow.
After a largely percussive intro, featuring distinct horns that would indicate that this might be headed into epic war territory, “Of Desolation” lays a sheet of tar that the rest of the album makes no attempt to escape. There will be no war today. This is the aftermath- Corpsessed is the crew sent in to clean up the carnage. In fact, after a short blast section, the album just slows further and further, flirting with sludge territory in the home stretch. Niko Matilainen’s breathy bellows bleed into the background of a lead section already leaking into the rhythm section like a BP tanker on the gulf. “Necrosophic Channeling”, the midpoint of the album, teases a little bit of upswing in tempo before getting even slower. It’s similar to Slowly We Rot-era Obituary, minus Jon Tardy’s obnoxious half-vocals (on the real: write some lyrics, silly-pants).
By sheer virtue of being a one-gear outfit, however, Corpsessed have made it a bit of a chore to complete Abysmal Thresholds in its entirety in one sitting. The tracks inexplicably get louder towards the finale, but one would be hard-pressed to tell the last three songs from the first three. The result can be rather exhausting. Once “The Threshold” wraps up, reaching for the play button most likely won’t be a top priority. Corpsessed do what they do, and they do it well. But, much like your favorite shirt, wearing it every single day is bound to wear the threads out. Abysmal Thresholds is definitely worth your time, but not all of the time.
