Believe it or don’t, my lovelies, but I’m a man of some idiosyncrasy. I sleep butt naked except for my wristwatch, which I only remove to shower. I have never worn – will never wear – a green shirt. And I only eat one dish per meal. Which is to say, I’ll make a meal of meat OR potatoes, but never meat AND potatoes. Never anything AND anything else.
It’s prolly this little bugaboo that’s giving me a little trouble with the new Cephalic Carnage. The band has the overwhelming talent to be five or six completely distinct ( and distinctly complete) different bands, and there’s the rub. Just when I start grooving on something, they completely switch styles (And I totally realize that I’m being a hypocrite; lots of my older favorite bands like Zep and the Stones played any ol’ style that caught their whim. But “consistency is the hobgoblin,” dig?) .
By no means let my crippling pissiness imply that this is a bad album; there’s tons of CC’s patented mystifying techgrind. There’s also one of the best non-black metal black metal songs of the year, and some proggy deathdoom that should make Opeth drink piss out of a boot.
It’s just a lot to eat at one sitting.
