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Review

Iperyt – The Patchwork Gehinnom Review

Band: Iperyt
Album: The Patchwork Gehinnom
Label: Pagan Records
Genre: Black Industrial
Country: Poland
Release Date: 15 December, 2017

Polish Black Industrial Metal juggernaut Iperyt (their name translates as “mustard gas”) return after a six year absence with their third full-length release, The Patchwork Gehinnom, a vast tapestry of sound and fury guaranteed to have you spitting bile and hate as you bang your head along with these eleven tracks of total terror.

The band refer to themselves as sonic terrorists, and their sound as “terrorcore,” and I would say that’s a fair description. They blend Black Metal and Industrial into a stew of noise, melody, anger, and a bit of crust. There is no doubting their intent or their direction: they have come to roll over you like a tank, creaking and clanking, relentless, powerful and unyielding.

The album opens with “Phantom Black Dogs,” (a great title) bringing blistering guitars and pummeling drums (machine). I love the blend of blackened riffs and notes mixing with the industrial crunch. The vocals are pretty clear, guttural but in a blackened sort of way, not Death. The song builds and peaks with a cool sample before spinning back into a vortex of violence.

And things continue on from there.

I would say the greatest strength of the album is also its greatest weakness: the tracks blend together. And while this creates an intense, remorseless experience, it also makes it sound sort of samey. Repeat listens clears this up, and this is definitely a record that opens more with every spin. So if your first impression is to say, “Meh,” then give it a few more revolutions. You might be surprised with the tiny nuances that pop up here and there.

Some other track highlights:

“Devil’s Violent Breed” is kind of just what you might think it would be: utterly unforgiving. Crusty, staticky, riffs galore, some melodic bents, screams and belches of pure hatred. This one steamrolls and never lets up, not bothering to take a breath until it comes crashing to a halt.

“Primitive Darkness” opens with a bit more atmosphere, but only briefly. The guitars come in, crackling and heavy, the drums (machine) clanging, and then the vocals. It’s not quite as back-breaking as the other tracks here as it leans more on the Industrial end than the Black. And just when you think you might be getting a more laid back sound, the song careens off the rails (in a good way) about one minute in with the barking “Fuck the world” cry. We’re right back into the groove from that point on, with some solid riffing and chaos.

“Worms of the Modern World” is pretty much just blastbeating from beginning to end, a ruthless crushing that takes a slight breath for a sample before diving right back in. This is the aural equivalent of being stuck in a fox hole during a battle, with gunfire and explosions erupting all around you. You can either duck your head and wait for the assault to (hopefully) pass, or go with the flow and let the madness take you.

The intention of Iperyt is to bring modern and sinister sonic warfare into this world, and they do an admirable job of achieving their goal. There is no relenting in this band, no surrender, just full-throated, balls to the wall violence. If this sounds like your cup of tea, then drink up, because this release is for you. If you’re not into this sort of thing, then it might be best you look elsewhere as I don’t think this is going to convince you to ride along with them. This is not a “crossover” album and it is not intended to win people over. Iperyt have made it very clear, from their mission statement, that you’re either on board with them or you’re not. And frankly, I don’t think they give a damn either way. They make music they love, for themselves. Period.

Rating: 7/10

Tracklist:
1. Phantom Black Dogs
2. From Nowhere to Nowhere
3. What Man Creates
4. With Eyes Wide Shut
5. Devil’s Violent Breed
6. These Walls (Have Seen)
7. Scars are Still Sexy
8. Primitive Darkness
9. Mindtaker
10. Worms of the Modern World
11. Checkmate, God!

Total Playing Time: 46:10

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