Song: Salvation Band:Occulus (they don’t have a custom URL. FUUUCK YOUUU) Location: Plymouth, Devon, UK Date of Release: 22nd November, 2014 Genre: Deathcore Reviewer: Erised (abuse me on twitter @Giaccattack) For Fans Of: Paper Cuts, Toenail Removal, Ball Rash Why they aren’t famous: Because they are fucking awful. Really, REALLY, fucking awful
Holy shit. I was only thinking the other day that the last ten reviews I’ve done have all been relatively decent. It’s been kind of disappointing actually, but then along comes this bucket of bat piss to thoroughly offend my ears, and yet paradoxically brighten my day at the same time. In truth I was beginning to worry that most of the ball-garglingly terrible bands had started to avoid us, which seems to be true to an extent, but at least these flogs were kind (and stupid) enough to submit anyway.
Now in the past, I’ve taken some fairly extreme measures to describe the truly godawful bands which I’ve reviewed. I’ve likened them to infectious diseases, totally demolished any vague illusion of musical competence they may’ve thought they had, and hell, I’ve even completely ignored songs because they’ve been so bad. This time, however, I’m going to try something a little bit different. Actually, fuck that. These bell-ends clearly haven’t put much effort into this, so they’ll get a correspondingly low amount from me.
When I was in high school, I had this one girlfriend who seemed to think that blow-jobs were some form of competition. She would apply so much suction that I am absolutely certain she thought that the main aim was to emulate a 30,000W Dyson, and that the reward was not a mouthful of sav-sauce, but my actual foreskin after she’d sucked it clean from my knob. It was horrible, and I’ve rarely been more concerned for the safety of my dick since – not even that time when I tried to put an IKEA desk together and ended up with my cock stuck in the ceiling fan. As a really convenient twist of fate, the vocalist in this song sounds almost exactly like she did during the act, and sucks just as powerfully to boot. I’d rather hear one vocal technique done well, rather than five done woefully. Fuck, I’d rather hear an instrumental track (just not this one, please).
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Pictured: Either an industrial vacuum, my high school girlfriend, or Occulus’ vocalist. Not to scale, except for the girlfriend
Speaking of the instrumentals, I haven’t encountered a piece of so called “music” this uninspired in quite some time. There is absolutely nothing even remotely approaching an interesting riff in this song. To put in perspective, I listened to a few Hardcore (a genre I fucking hate) songs prior to this ballpuke, and even THEY had more interesting guitarwork. Given that Hardcore is essentially the music genre equivalent of your quintessential “D” Student – keeping up appearances at school, while throwing hands at anyone brave/dumb enough to talk shit about them – it’s actually sad this even falls short of that extremely conservative standard. I actually picked up my guitar and played along with this in real time after three listens to vaguely familiarise myself with it. I then promptly burnt my guitar, as no amount of cleaning would ever be sufficient to remove the “suck” from the fretboard, so yeah, you cumnuggets owe me a new fucking guitar. Cheers
There’s not much else to say really. There’s fuck all bass, but that’s actually merciful in this case. I’ve already had to put up with what sounds like a lobotomised rhesus monkey on guitar, I’d be pissed off if I had to actually think about whatever the window-licking basstard is doing. I mean, he’s clearly not thinking about shit, so why should I? The drums sound hella programmed, and they sound like they were written by a robot too. Boring beats, generic fills, yawn-worthy on all counts. If the drums aren’t programmed, then I will apologise, but only on the proviso that you apologise first, for making me listen to this utter drivel.
All in all, this song sounds like what it is: a steaming, cancerous pile of freshly excised tumours. What’s ironic, is that this review is infinitely more brutal than this song, which is kind of pathetic. If you’re going to label yourself Deathcore, and then resort to 9th rate Hardcore riffs with an even equally shithouse Thrash riff thrown in for good measure, you’re not going to have a good time. That being said, even if you labelled this appropriately (Junkcore), it would still be the sonic equivalent of trying to piss in someone’s face, only to get stage fright and end up standing there awkwardly with your dick in your hand, and a rapidly growing red tinge on your face. You should be embarrassed, and if you aren’t, I already am for you, and I’m sure anyone else who listens to this will be too.
Vocals: 3/10 Guitars: 2/10 Bass: DUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH/10 Drums: 2/10 Production: 5/10 Lyrics: I don’t give a fuck. Not even 1/10 Songwriting: 2/10 Overall IPHYB Rating: 2/10 Enjoyment Factor: 0/10 I hated every second of this, and I resent having to press replay enough times to do this review
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Chris Giacca just may be the worst writer in the world, but it doesn't matter because he probably still has a bigger audience than you, so he is by default automatically right about everything. No exceptions. He's currently writing a novel which will be uploaded in single chapter installments as spoken word on bandcamp. Physical releases will be on laser disc only, limited to 17 1/2 units. Don't ask about the half.