Reykjavík, Fear City.
Every way is just another dead whore.
Hope is hanging, swaying silently in the dark.
Life and Death.
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„With so much of today’s generation of heavily stylized metal, grind and hardcore bands sounding pre-packaged, dry and fucking boring, World Narcosis’ debut seven inch is a breath of fresh air.
This shit is bananas in more ways than one. The pessimism and abandonment of the lyrics fit the spastic heaviness perfectly. Soaked in „evil chord“ progression (see; „Deathbed“ a long lost child of Need To Control Brutal Truth), blast beats and two-speed galore, singer Viktor Kaldalóns tops this cake of doom as he belts campfire pleasantries such as „We will never be well. Brainscam,“ „There’s no home where there is control. We might as well give up – stand up – choke ourselves.“ And lastly „I’ll let myself in dead shadows, before „I love you“ ever reloads our guns again.“ Now, these are just short excerpts from the poems on hand to give you a glimpse into this Warped Tour bound material.
Although the performance of the players is bulldoze tight (bonkers drums afoot), the productions gives it a loose, crude feel, a credit to engineer Erling Bang (Celestine/I Adapt) who mercifully avoided the pitfalls of overusing computer-compressors thus befitting the violent and relentless nature of the music. There is seldom a break between songs. No time to breath to check your facebook updates.
And as if this wasn’t enough to set these guys apart from other young contemporaries debuting their stuff, the vocals give World Narcosis yet another edge and arguably the most distinctive ones. Mr. Kaldalóns is absolutely unhinged in his delivery. You could even say that the lad comes undone. Yet a midst the carnage and disappointment there’s glimmer of hope… Well, not really.
The whole records spits insightful shots of disillusionment, hopeless commentary on consumption, the rat-race, pride, personal defects and addiction. Joy! Play this during a spring break. The long-board brahs will love you for it.
Pig Destroyer atonalism, faint echos of His Hero Is Gone’s/Artimus Pyle’s apocalyptic rumble and the blast-burst effects of Iron Lung married with bat-shit crazy vocalist that make Das Oath’s/Charles Bronson’s Mark McCoy sound like a perfectly balanced individual. In this seven inch you’ve got yourselves a fresh, untamed, disparate and glorious carnival of extreme metal, grind, power violence and hardcore (what have you) that should satisfy fans of fast and nasty music. This release is limited to only 200 copies so you better make it quick – get in touch with these young lads and secure a copy.
„Where a man puts a tag on men and shouts for sale!“ Indeed. All hail the new flesh.“
– Birkir Fjalar, Halifax Collect