Beats the competition – 80%
we hope you die, June 2nd, 2021
Sticking with Chile’s penchant for blackened thrash that puts the rest of the world to shame, Perversor’s latest EP ‘Psicomoro’ sees a physical release on Hells Headbangers this year. Even on this short outing Perversor demonstrate a broader mastery of late 80s extreme metal than many of their peers. From the Massacra style scale runs of ‘Anzu’, to the odd hints at contemporary Profanatica on ‘Anguis Caecus’, this is far more than a monochrome adrenaline shot of dirty blackened thrash.
The production is modest but not weak. Guitars cut through with a fairly soft distortion which again screams old school. But the tone, whilst not the strongest one going, is certainly sharp enough to articulate the frantic riff patterns present on each track. The drums are tinny but clear. The snare and cymbals are a little too dominant over the kick drums, which seems to be symptomatic of a wider lack of bass in the overall mix. But we’ll let this slide seeing as none of these small blemishes are a detriment to enjoying this tight little EP.
Although there’s nothing cosmically earth shattering about this music, the flow of each piece is undeniable. From the Slayer style atonality of the opener ‘Cocaina’, to the off-kilter Massacra style polyrhythm found in the central riff to ‘Anzu’, or even the chaotic opening riff of ‘Anguis Caecus’ which bears comparison to Antaeus, Perversor are more than willing to mix up riff traditions, constantly pushing at this genre’s stagnant willingness to rest on its laurels and stray no further than Sarcofago’s ‘INRI’.
This music trades on non-stop chromatic riffing. Presenting a dense tapestry of ever shifting rhythms, and unexpected chromatic trills that forever shift the listener’s perception. This is why this style is so suited to conveying chaos, nihilism, a futile quest for meaning in the face of the violence at the heart of existence. It is an amoral barrage of chaos that nevertheless constructs its own logic of rhythm and resolve from its apparent declaration of finality.
Originally published at Hate Meditations
rafazardly 