200 Stab Wounds – Manual Manic Procedures Review

From Maggot Stamp to Metal Blade in four short years, 200 Stab Wounds are – like Sanguisugabogg, Frozen Soul, and Undeath – riding a wave of seemingly renewed interest in simple slabs. Or perhaps the renewed interest is clear, and it’s the slabs that seem simple.

Regardless, these guys are popular. 200 Stab Wounds are, in case you haven’t noticed, a known entity. Before listening to Manual Manic Procedures – the band’s sophomore effort (and first on Metal Blade) – I was aware of the band, but vaguely. All over Bandcamp. Impressively aggressive merch game. Smart promoters, no doubt. Yet before this newest one, I don’t know that I could have told you exactly what they sounded like. Mostly, they made me feel old. And, hell, I am old.

So what was it that made me take this plunge? “Hands of Eternity.” Specifically, the music video for “Hands of Eternity,” the lead single from Manual Manic Procedures. From the almost unnerving, mood-setting intro to the live show aesthetic, there’s a subtle slickness to how effective it is in pulling you in. The nuance, really, was unexpected. Music videos of “live” shows are hardly novel, but this one felt artful – a spectacle, recorded. The music, of course, too. Less meat-and-potatoes. There’s some character to this. That they led with a song that’s equal parts ambience and aggression feels, I don’t know, almost strangely wise.

Call me a convert, but I like what 200 Stab Wounds has done on this record. The production is perfectly punchy. The guitars have that meat snack snap. There’s the occasional lumber (“Parricide”). A rip here and there (“Ride the Flatline”). Some slapping (“Gross Abuse”), undeniably. You often hear a band say that they play “what the song calls for.” But the product rarely delivers on that sentiment. I hear it here, though. This is a diverse collection of smartly arranged songs.

No sense in beating around the bush – Manual Manic Procedures is fun summer death metal! I’ll save you the labels. Dying Fetus meets Rutan-era Cannibal Corpse meets Skinless meets Carcass meets … I’ve read that elsewhere, and I wouldn’t say it’s inaccurate. But lost in a label like that is the independent vitality of this record. There’s life here (in death)! And that’s the point. This isn’t Dying Fetus 2.0. Or Carcass 5,000.0. Or Bolt Thrower 20,000.0. Maybe the diversity is the point of distinction. Perhaps it’s the confidence with which these guys play. Or it could be the production, which doesn’t attempt to pitch this as anything but modern death metal. Regardless, I am sold. I just wish my car had better speakers.