Spinebreaker – Cavern Of Inoculated Cognition Review

[Cover art by Brad Moore]

We’re now coming up on about 40 years since the earliest, most primitive forms of extreme metal sprouted up from the soil of metal’s first decade-plus, and in all those years since we’ve experienced enough permutations to match the branches of the Erdtree. Well, for every funeral doom/death band and blackened punk and avant-garde jazz-noise grinder there likely still remain at least a couple groups refusing to let go of those rotten, stinking, putrid deathroots.

Sometimes all a death metal band needs is the core elements of riffs, pummeling rhythms, a demented nature, and an existence defined by ill intentions. San Jose’s Spinebreaker is one such band: lean in concept but fat in sound, a cavemen approach and cavernous atmosphere (most notably in the growl reverb), and just enough of a hardcore punk swagger at times to remind you that you aren’t in some alien environment, but getting bruised in the pit.

New EP Cavern of Inoculated Cognition finds its sound rooted in OSDM, of course, with different moments coming across as stripped down versions of Blessed are the Sick, Realm of Chaos, Onward to Golgotha, and other such genre pillars. Plenty of big riffs, bigger thuds, occasionally blinding blasts, and delightfully spry drumming during the slower parts (“Spectral Forge”). But even when you can hear direct parallels to a band like Morbid Angel ‒ some quality dive bombs or very Pete Sandoval-y fills ‒ Spinebreaker tends to forego any flash in favor of unified destruction. When there is a touch of individuality, such as some charismatic and disgusted screams in “Infinite Crest,” they’re typically followed by a calculated reminder to get back to crunching bones—in this case an extremely obvious half-time mosh moment.

Those moments form the true, um, backbone here. There are long stretches of these 26 minutes where the biggest image being conjured is a bunch of sweaty dudes lurching in unison and throwing each other around. Nowhere is this more pronounced than during closer “Crimson Mask,” which takes a Bolt Thrower-ish passage and delightfully dumbs it down enough to appeal to the Dying Fetus crowd right before a lead explodes and puts an exclamation mark on the whole thing.

So sure, there’s the occasional touch of sophistication, but mostly Spinebreaker is out to live up to their name, and we should expect nothing more or less. Even the title of this EP seems to carry with it a very direct message: turn off your brains, embrace your shitroots, and get down, fools.