One of the great ironies of this chaotic life is the way reality and surreality converge with monotonous regularity. The bizaare is as much a daily part of existence as mundanity, and the more one's reality fragments under the weight of onrushing death, the more apparent this becomes.
Capitalizing on their recognition of this fact, Wicked Innocence erected at the intersection of Demilich, Immolation, Atheist and heaping handfuls of hallucinogens a death metal masterpiece in the form of Omnipotence. Crafting an absurdist logic from brutal yet deliberate death metal, Wicked Innocence explore the dark recesses of the human psyche. Walking the razor's edge where order meets chaos, Omnipotence juxtaposes meticulous technicality against structures that do not so much develop as decay (spiraling deliberately into the abyss) and sets often punishing dissonance against tendrils of melody that speak less of hope than of radical corruption. A bizaare, rambling vocal performance (ranging from hideous shrieks, to a percolating belch, to a pitched chant, all delivered in the manner of a conversational asides) solidifies the impression that this is not so much an album as a ringside seat for a descent into madness. Yet, strangely, it is all the more real for this detachment from 'reality,' and Omnipotence stands as a chilling monument to the fragile illusion of normality and the terrifying truth behind the veil.
Cliff Notes Review: Fucked Up
(96/100)
Capitalizing on their recognition of this fact, Wicked Innocence erected at the intersection of Demilich, Immolation, Atheist and heaping handfuls of hallucinogens a death metal masterpiece in the form of Omnipotence. Crafting an absurdist logic from brutal yet deliberate death metal, Wicked Innocence explore the dark recesses of the human psyche. Walking the razor's edge where order meets chaos, Omnipotence juxtaposes meticulous technicality against structures that do not so much develop as decay (spiraling deliberately into the abyss) and sets often punishing dissonance against tendrils of melody that speak less of hope than of radical corruption. A bizaare, rambling vocal performance (ranging from hideous shrieks, to a percolating belch, to a pitched chant, all delivered in the manner of a conversational asides) solidifies the impression that this is not so much an album as a ringside seat for a descent into madness. Yet, strangely, it is all the more real for this detachment from 'reality,' and Omnipotence stands as a chilling monument to the fragile illusion of normality and the terrifying truth behind the veil.
Cliff Notes Review: Fucked Up
(96/100)
