Thursday, February 3, 2011
Brain Drill--Apocalyptic Feasting
Our hubris will be our downfall in this extreme, icy-cold tundra.
Speaking of extreme, let's talk about Brain Drill. Brain Drill is a tech-death band from the pits of hell (read: Santa Cruz or something. Go fighting Banana Slugs!). Their brand of tech-death sets itself apart in the first couple of minutes of the album; while most technical death metal bands languish in poorly-written, wanky riffing piled on top of relentless and lightning fast blast beats, Brain Drill do the exact same thing, except way faster and, therefore, way better. I discovered Brain Drill a while ago during my normal Interbung perusal of one of my favorite blogspots, Illogical Contraption. The dudes at IllCon hate stuff that is new and fresh, but Cobras clued me in to his love for Brain Drill. I had heard of them through my good buddy Erik, and I resolved to get to the bottom of this band with their ridiculous moniker who had gained the love of a dude whose enthusiasm for blast beats eclipses the love that other people have for their children.
I wasn't disappointed.
Brain Drill is probably on the far end of musical extremity. Take a popular motorcycle rider, force him to ride his motorcycle out of an airplane with no parachute, then make him land in one giant ramp. This ramp funnels him immediately into another gigantic ramp, where he flies out of it and lands on top of the airplane he just jumped out of while simultaneously drinking two Mountain Dews and applying Axe Body Spray. Brain Drill is more extreme than that. The 90's mania with "X-Treme" can realistically only be applied to Brain Drill and other bands like them, which don't exist. The guitar riffs are impossibly shreddy and ridiculous, while the drums don't sound like the kind of drums that any human could play. Perhaps some kind of highly-trained octopus with a surprising amount of discipline could play these kinds of drums, but certainly no human. As it turns out, a human played these drums.
There must be something amazing in that NorCal weed that I'm just missing out on.
My metal-d00d friends never hesitate to express their disdain for me while I prattle on and on about Brain Drill. "Wormed is better, homo," they say. "You should listen to Winter. Sooooo heeeeeaavy!" Shut up, Will. If you have the insatiable urge to be eaten by a roaming band of stinking zombie nerds in tattered Origin shirts, Brain Drill is the soundtrack to your life. I used to use Apocalyptic Feasting when I was working my Hospice job on days that I had seen too many dead people laying there with their families crying and stuff, or when I would go to a nursing facility full of dead people that still walked and they made me observe an old lady getting her ass wiped by an ill-tempered nurse who doesn't know that "Come in," is supposed to mean "Everyone is decent, and you won't see anything horrifying if you walk into this room right now."
It's a great pick-me-up.
Check out Brain Drill's majestic undead assault here, or tell me that I'm a dick for liking something so outlandish in the comments.