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  • JammT



Just in case the band name, twisted sleeve art, and traditionally illegible squiggly logo doesn’t tell you clearly enough exactly what is in the tin, Portland's Decrepisy play low-fi mendacious death metal that is unwaveringly morbid and as heavy as an imploding crypt. The five tracks that comprise Emetic Communion range erratically from 2-10 minutes and belch out dingy, careering, thudding old school DM with elements of thrash and doom. It is pretty rampaging and uncompromising stuff that rejoices in being intentionally low-profile and be-dimmed with an obfuscated production that makes it sound like it is being played ibehind the walls of a sadist’s vault.

For an ultra-niche musical sub-genre with inherent and obvious stylistic confines, Decrepisy actually throw a lot into the mix. For one thing, they are unafraid to go through the gears. Time changes are executed with aplomb and slalom between slow wobbly, low-end cheap slasher movie Autopsy homages, pummelling mid-paced Cannibal Corpse-esque groove to hyper-speed, manic thrash outs which can be reminiscent of Slayer. Often Decrepisy manage to combine all of these brutal progressions - several times over - in one song.

It is not just pace, though, but that echoing, sepulchral atmosphere and Emetic Communion haemorrhages with oppressive dread and splatter-house horror. There are plenty of pell-mell solos and chaotic pained guitar whinnying but, by sitting lower in the mix rather than in your face, this creates a layered, menacing ambience and inscrutability. Above all that, however, you get the sense that Decrepisy play with warped and unapologetic glee and perhaps do not always take life too seriously, especially if you take the cheesy cheap horror movie instrumental of Anxiety Womb as proof.

As for the vocals, it’s doubtful whether a lower register exists in the natural world. Guttural and unearthly, it sounds like a demonic cookie monster shouting a football game in a subterranean catacomb. The incomprehensible deep-burial growl could be reciting WiFi passwords for all you can tell but it aligns precisely with the dim-lit brooding aesthetic.

This is a heavy combined dosage of various elements of old school death metal played through a dense, fetid miasma. Decrepisy sound like the could rumble and bellow dementedly in the darkness for a long time and, in fact, they probably are right now.

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