King Carcass -- Other Species, Other Minds, No.6
About a year ago, I ran into the drummer for this band and he suggested that I didn't have to lie about them. Drunk, it didn't sink into my inebrieated skull (as I was about to be kidnapped by Cop Shoot Cop, thrown into a back of a car, taken to Johnny Digs The evil's pad to be brainwashed with alcohol) until recently. But, I'm not lying when I tell you how good this band, particularly this album, is. I've had a copy of it for over a year now, as it was recorded in the summer of '91 and woefully sat on a shelf in Terry Tolkin's mansion for what seemed like an excruciating eternity. Too bad it gathered so much dust, as that's the type of thing to make a band lose their steam, sitting on an already hatched egg for so long. But, if Pink Floyd were into the depths of the earth rather than the gates of dawn, it would almost be comparable. King Carcass is not punk-to-hippie grunge rock, but a journey to the undiscovered land of the lost, a timeless primordial place opening up on the horizon. And, this is a good record to commit suicide on the bottom of a riverbed to, as it flows grimly like a slit wrist draining into the cold currents like vanilla in a Coke. So, since everything has been done, why not listen to a band that is stretching the parameters instead of outlining them? You've listened to worse, I'm sure, but better, I doubt.