All posts by Andrew Edmunds

Last Rites Co-Owner; Senior Editor; born in the cemetery, under the sign of the MOOOOOOON...

Blast Rites: Hemorrhoid – Raw Materials Of Decay Review

Thankfully, I’ve never yet had to deal with hemorrhoids, but I hear they’re a total pain in the ass… Boom. Mic drop. Thanks. I’m here all week. But seriously, folks. These bloody Portland, Oregon-based death-grinders

Midnight – Hellish Expectations Review

I quite liked – but didn’t quite love – the last Midnight record, 2022’s Let There Be Witchery, and based on the initial announcement for this follow-up, I was not alone. According to the press

Blast Rites: MooM – Plague Infested Urban Dump Of The Future Review

According to an interview on Lixiviat Records’ site, the name “MooM” most closely translates into English as “defect” — the intended meaning being the “disadvantages of being born into this reality while being awake to

Dipygus – Dipygus Review

You know what I’m talking about when I talk about “The Filth”? Well, Dipygus got The Filth. If you don’t know what I’m talking about here – and based on forty-plus years of experience with

Blast Rites: AK//47 – Menari Dalam Abu Algoritma Review

A few weeks back, at the turn of the year, we published our annual Most Anticipated Albums for the coming year. In making our selections back in December, I had initially chosen the third installment

Ghoul – Noxious Concoctions Review

Everyone’s favorite splatterthrashers return with a new EP in Noxious Concoctions, a five-song, twenty-minute blast of their signature bloodsoaked death/thrash/occasional surf-rock. If you’re no stranger to Creepsylvania – if you’ve kept up with Ghoul for

Master – Saints Dispelled Review

The hype sticker for Saints Dispelled states simply, “When it says Master, you get Master.” A truer distillation of a new Master album in 2024 would be hard to come by, I will concede —

Best Of 2023: Andrew Edmunds – I Used To Be Indecisive, But Now I’m Not Sure

So the stupid title that I gave this thing is both a terrible dad joke and a sad truth, in the sense of that, whenever I’m compelled to make these year-end lists (which seems to