240.25 Actual Reality

Wait a minute here… how is that possible?! The highly reputable esoteric order of the Rosicrucians is behind this terrible stuff… crucifixion for all the Rosicrucians! Immediately! I can’t bear this any longer…

transformations of the kind were not surprising back then; hordes of 80’s retro thrash outfits rushed to taste the numetal fruit in the 90’s, throwing dignity and pride on the wind, embarrassing themselves left and right, shedding their skin beyond recognition… only that Rosicrucian were not an 80’s metal act; both their efforts appeared during the 90’s, and although they did have this covert abrasive aggro-vibe, it’s quite disheartening to hear what they had become less than a year after the sophomore’s appearance. From capable, marginally noisier Bay-Area thrash defenders they made a showing as…

no, I can’t utter it; I’d rather leave the music to do the talking. And I promise this will be the last time I’m doing that cause these Slapdashers have produced a huge groovy slap for all the true believers in the classic metal cause. They nearly killed this last fraction with these over-50min of trite rehashed noise. Well, what’s fair’s fair, and I have to confess that I was initially intrigued by the raucous vigour of “Nothing Remains” and the vivid pounds of “No Love Last” as these nu-thrashy tunes for the modern generation aren’t quite a throw-away. But that’s pretty much it as with “Dependence Gone” the album enters a most repetitive cycle of heavy groovy rhythms that sound totally identical from one song to another; one can only wonder why someone would need 50-min of this as half of this length would more than suffice to tell the exciting story of the new kid in town, someone Groove laddie that has decided to annihilate all the imagination and creativity available on the music circuit at the time.

And it couldn’t have received bigger help from the one handed it by this Slapdash bunch who miraculously and very suddenly unearth themselves with the pretty decent heavy ballad “On My Own”, the absolute highlight here with the overshouty hardcore vocals toning down their rendings for a more acceptable semblance of singing. Expect no such lofty musicalities to occur later the guys turning the cover of “Free Your Mind” of the all-female 90’s pop stars En Vogue into a rousing post-thrashcore melee with everyone shouting to the max, including roadies and sound engineers, the more normal rappy vocals inserted at some stage an even more awkward presence on the cacophonous ultra-messy background.

Finally… who should I thank that this is all over? Definitely not this batch who harassed me gleefully and mercilessly for whole 50-min… the EP before it was way more like it as it was just 12-min long, and also contained a not bad cover of S.O.D.’s “Kill Yourself”. Here, on top of all that awful groove, we have a barely recognizable rendition of a 90’s pop stars’ hit… a valiant rendition this one, it begs to be heard by those who have passed by the original… you may win a hefty sum if you manage to identify it. The thing is that whatever pile of money you’ve been offered, you’d gladly give it up so you could save yourself from this… yeah, it’s that bad. The groovy post-thrashy formula hasn’t received a boost here; it has learnt a lesson on how to repeat itself incessantly, with near-retarded obstinacy, in a vicious anti-productive cycle, to the point that whatever other similarly-styled works appear later, they would have a near-instant tiring, migraine-causing effect on the listener.

No wonder the Rosicrucian order disappeared deep underground shortly after… slapping around would be the least they could have gotten away with. Ha, who am I kidding… it was the mid-90’s, for crying out loud! Tunes of the kind were the government’s dearest; you could hear them from the radio, the TV, the stereos, the walkmen, the police megaphones… even grandmas were jumping on them during their morning exercises. Groove the lad showed a surprising level of maturity before you know it… hats down to all those who had sworn blind, maniacal allegiance to it.