Entombed

Inferno (Koch)
by Marton Popoff

A vague sense of not needing this right now (or for that matter, the new Sepultura) washes over me like brown smog, Entombed now having cranked almost unconsciously (and somewhat self-consciously) three punk rock grind records since the left turns of Same Difference. No question, Entombed are true happy death heroes and they have an innate talent for explosive groovy extreme metal. But sometimes they hit the autopilot and go with the first thing that pops into their heads. That’s what Inferno feels like, a bit stoned, like stoner rock, especially in the lyric department, Uffe and Alex writing using what looks like a cut-and-paste method, with tossed off amusing, catchy slogans strung together like blood-filled Christmas lights. Not too crazy about the production either, which lacks for treble and the concrete-cutting high-mids of the band’s patented sound. Cover art’s barely there, too. So yeah, that’s a lot of complaining, to be sure, but I hold Entombed to a higher standard given their legacy, and this thing is just too stripped-down, too punk rock.
(740 Broadway 7th Fl. New York, NY 10003)