Whitechapel
The Somatic Defilement

As the deathcore genre becomes ever more burgeoning and ever more hated by them (the haters, shit talkers and internet dawdlers) who demand that the bands plying this style stop ‘breeing,’ claim they write poor death metal and have too many shitty metalcore breakdowns etc. But of course, their salient directive is that these bands to simply ‘break up already.’

You know what?

These people give me a serious headache and forget that not too long ago they themselves (like this writer) were listening to bands with as much credibility as any garbage vomited from the likes of Pop Idol, Teen Idol and whatever other various concoctions have been conceived of the ‘Idol,’ program. Therefore, I know I’m grateful that there are bands like Tennessee’s Whitechapel striding around today and what’s even more endearing is the simple fact that this band fucking destroys.

How so? Well they have successfully merged the heavier end of modern metalcore with crushing the resonance of brutal death metal and laced it with rattling grind. It’s a succulent, addictive brew that is expertly and passionately crafted by musicians who know what they like, know what they want to do and execute it with such accurate precision.

What’s even more impressive is that this is their debut record, more so is that they have managed to surpass the trap of becoming of putting their strongest songs (or song in some cases) on myspace and producing a patchy, flakey full length. Not a chance, The Somatic Defilement, is all about quality for its thirty two minute duration, never, ever lulling or suppressing its blood thirst for mayhem.

After the eerie intro of ‘Necrotizing,’ its straight to business via the lumbering menace of the title track, churning, rumbling and above all, seismically pulsing through the speakers. Vocalist Bozeman stretches his full range here, veering from guttural barks all the way to scything sneers that sound very, very painful. Where Whitechapel really excel is their breakdowns, which arrive in various forms thus remaining each time more powerful as each one is distinctly different then its predecessor. Clearly the three guitars aid here because whilst they are immensely bludgeoning they are extravagantly detailed and textured, a glaring example being the monumental break two minutes into ‘Prostatic Fluid Asphyxiation.’

To ensure that equilibrium is maintained and to prevent the band descending into the reliance but also slothful approach of breakdown after breakdown, there are plenty of highly impressive blasting and technical passages weaved in. This again highlight’s the band’s dexterity and their focus on texture as these sections are so intriguing and well written that they ascend that presence as the filler between breakdowns, such as in the fearsome ‘Ear to Ear.’

As stated above its highly encouraging that bands like Whitechapel are in circulation at the moment and whilst their blood is continuously bayed for by the minority of snobby elitists, I’m sure the majority can savour their brutality for the duration of their existence.

Let’s hope they don’t break up after this then.

[Visit the band's website]
Written by Benjamin DeBlasi
August 12th, 2007

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