This is some ferocious shit with an impressive resume.  Come Back From The Dead features some of the violence mongers from Machetazo, Nashgul, Asedio, Cenotaph and many others.  Their music centers on a sandblasted, scum-bathed crust/doom/thrash/death metal hybrid that calls to mind very early Entombed, Discharge, Autopsy, Venom, Dismember, Celtic Frost and Motörhead…throw all of these classic bands into a sack; tease ‘em with a fire poker and watch the matted fur fly.  The intestine twisting riffs are recorded on the bleeding edge Scandinavian style with infernal guitar harmonies, worm wiggling doom riffs, circle pitting rhythms (with a lot of bass resonance) and vocals that are killer because they don’t play into any modern rules, all sounding off like Satan’s air raid siren.  Paul’s got a weathered, crusty shout that can’t decide whether if it wants to be a pissed off scream or a festering growl, settling into a circular sawed mid-range I can’t seem to shake from my head.  Good fuckin’ stuff.

“Apocalyptic Great Panic” traverses the melodic, overgrown walkways of the Left Hand Path with syrupy, doom-y death grooves stalking your every move while corroded sunbeams of melodic lead guitar give you some sanctuary on a trail riddle with poison snakes, waiting vultures and the gravestones of those that couldn’t make it.  It’s not long before drummer Marcos unearths a rotten, decomposed d-beat which sends the track spiraling into thrash/punk madness tethered to riffing that’ll fuck you up with a set of brass knuckles.  A thick, moldy death metal break trembles below the grotesque palm-muting and a filth chug set somewhere between Autopsy and Entombed.  Solos are used sparingly, but effectively and the acerbic screams masquerade themselves as cannibalistic shouts that eat their way out of Paul’s vocal chords.

They have the molar breaking crunch of both death n’ thrash on the grizzled churns of “Better Morbid than Slaves,” taking the best of both Swedish crust n’ death metal to create a wartorn audio orgasm for headbangers.  Blasts are incorporated into the band’s scabies grind scratch, but they are of the slower, temple toppling variety instead of the usual lightspeed iterations.  The doom-y downtempo of guitarists Hector and Miguel bend like Sabbath tortured in a castle courtyard’s stock with shredding solos and highly catchy lead patterns coloring in the gray areas of grime.  Lemmy on ‘ludes is the general impression I get on the diarrhea death n’ roll of “Krakenstein.”  This is about as foul as metal can get while still having a hook to keep you hitting the repeat button until your finger is a bloody nub.  Come Back From The Dead wisely refuses to stay in one mode either, their mean ass Motörheadin’ contorting into a pungent, harmonically sound doom abandon towards the climax.

Iago’s limber, neck slidin’ bass lines provide a nimble jumpstart to the dreg dwelling sludge riffs that pop up frequently throughout “Rise of the Scavengers,” a sewer spawned track combining sunbleached, mid-paced death/thrash/crust with bellowing growls and a melodic, distinctly Swedish guitar attack screeching in death throes of hook-addled passion (not that In Flames junk…think Dismember, early At the Gates, etc.).   “Hell Inside” is the best damn cut on the album, coming into view like a tornado tearing through a trailer park.  I’ll tell you why this song rules…examine the riff that starts at 00:37.  I’m serious man, examine that shit.  What the fuck is that?  It’s the kind of riff that inhales hatred for breakfast and breathes it back out killing the entire human race…overpowering like Celtic Frost, dingy like Entombed and as massive as an early Cathedral riff without the Sabbath overdrive.  You could throw riffs that size at me all day and you’ll end up my best friend for life.  Shit!

There are more than a few masterful riffs like the above on “Grave Diggers.”  The doom groove that signals the army of hyper-catchy, 80s thrash guitar leads/solos near the end is a great example, but it’s not the only strength…the whole ride is worth taking.  From blasting, undead grind to crippling shambles and trippy, lost in a mausoleum leads, there isn’t one bit of music that falls flat or leaves me cold.  A few of the solos even have a PCP altered, classic blues touch to ‘em that sends me to the grave satisfied, which is even furthered elaborated by the wah-wah grumble of “Psycho-Symphony of Bites” introductory riff.  If you came to this composition asking for d-beat death/sludge, you’ll have your wishes answered with exactly the kind of beheading you were looking for.  “Haze of Blood” and “Horror Bathory” brings on the speed leaving “Vault of Horror” to close the album with nuclear winter lurches that’ll bathe you in a pleasant glow of radiation and laugh as you peel your skin off.  Fucking sick ass shit!

I’m not shitting with you, The Coffin Earth’s Entrails is the kind of old school carnage that they just don’t make enough of anymore, or at least a lot of bands have difficulty reaching these heights.  This is going to be one of my top albums of the year.  It’s a fuckin’ sledge to the face, a jackhammer to the ankles and a steamroller back massage all at the same time.  Merciless, fucked up, class A shit…highly recommend!

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