Abaddon Incarnate - Nadir
2001 - Sentinel Records
By Philip Whitehouse
Go to Sentinel Records website.
Go to the Abaddon Incarnate
Anyone remember 'Gonzo' Ted Nugent? Well, one piece of journalistic praise that was heaped upon the axe-weilding, volume-obessed rocker during his heyday basically said that America should quit attempting to develop a neutron bomb, since the Nuge's building-shaking sonic attacks were quite destructive enough.
What that particular journalist would say to Ireland's Abaddon Incarnate is, sadly, open only to vaguely amusing conjecture, but I for one think that he would certainly express relief that the IRA have declared a cease-fire and haven't discovered the explosive potential of the band's music.
Nadir is Abaddon Incarnate's second full-length album, and aided by production care of Miesko from Nasum, it is forty-five minutes of blistering, hate-filled deathgrind that very nearly blows away all competition, past and present. From the no-nonsense, blasting opening of 'I Will Nail You In' to the closing abruptness of 'Rot', Abaddon Incarnate pummel the listener with a barrage of whip-crack, high-velocity drumming by Olan Parkinson, flesh-stripping yet hook-filled riffs courtesy of Bill Whealen, a vocalist (Steve Maher, who also does his fair share of axe-weilding) who sounds like someone trying to scream with a cactus lodged in his throat and a bassist who makes Shane Embury seem positively laid-back (take a bow, Cory Sloan).
Abaddon Incarnate manage to avoid all of the common deathgrind traps, bar one. They never compromise in their unrelenting velocity and intensity, but still manage to construct their songs around hooky, memorable riffs. The songs are as individualistic as the genre allows whilst being consistent in their quality and the songs are never so long as to outstay their welcome.
Unfortunately, the latter cannot also be said of the album as whole. Nasum's 'Human 2.0' release was the perfect length, a mere thirty-eight minutes - a test of listening endurance for material of that type, surely, but one that most people are up to. By taking their album length to a gnat's pubic hair short of three-quarters of an hour, even the luck of the Irish won't prevent Nadir from becoming an exhausting listen rather than a cathartic one when played in full. Which is a crying shame, since taken individually, these songs are the most potent, internal-organ-rearranging slabs of pyroclastic nastiness this side of... well... Nasum, actually.
8/10
2001 - Sentinel Records
By Philip Whitehouse
Go to Sentinel Records website.
Go to the Abaddon Incarnate
Anyone remember 'Gonzo' Ted Nugent? Well, one piece of journalistic praise that was heaped upon the axe-weilding, volume-obessed rocker during his heyday basically said that America should quit attempting to develop a neutron bomb, since the Nuge's building-shaking sonic attacks were quite destructive enough.
What that particular journalist would say to Ireland's Abaddon Incarnate is, sadly, open only to vaguely amusing conjecture, but I for one think that he would certainly express relief that the IRA have declared a cease-fire and haven't discovered the explosive potential of the band's music.
Nadir is Abaddon Incarnate's second full-length album, and aided by production care of Miesko from Nasum, it is forty-five minutes of blistering, hate-filled deathgrind that very nearly blows away all competition, past and present. From the no-nonsense, blasting opening of 'I Will Nail You In' to the closing abruptness of 'Rot', Abaddon Incarnate pummel the listener with a barrage of whip-crack, high-velocity drumming by Olan Parkinson, flesh-stripping yet hook-filled riffs courtesy of Bill Whealen, a vocalist (Steve Maher, who also does his fair share of axe-weilding) who sounds like someone trying to scream with a cactus lodged in his throat and a bassist who makes Shane Embury seem positively laid-back (take a bow, Cory Sloan).
Abaddon Incarnate manage to avoid all of the common deathgrind traps, bar one. They never compromise in their unrelenting velocity and intensity, but still manage to construct their songs around hooky, memorable riffs. The songs are as individualistic as the genre allows whilst being consistent in their quality and the songs are never so long as to outstay their welcome.
Unfortunately, the latter cannot also be said of the album as whole. Nasum's 'Human 2.0' release was the perfect length, a mere thirty-eight minutes - a test of listening endurance for material of that type, surely, but one that most people are up to. By taking their album length to a gnat's pubic hair short of three-quarters of an hour, even the luck of the Irish won't prevent Nadir from becoming an exhausting listen rather than a cathartic one when played in full. Which is a crying shame, since taken individually, these songs are the most potent, internal-organ-rearranging slabs of pyroclastic nastiness this side of... well... Nasum, actually.
8/10
