Portal would feel right at home in early 1920’s Berlin, let alone down under in their hometown of Brisbane. 2003’s Seepia was a sublimely discordant offering, and yet four years later, the jump taken goes so far beyond. Their last album, released in 2007, is named Outré. The French word outré itself is one of those tricky designations that cross the language barrier, strictly because some human beings in another part of the world are able to sum up a theoretical concept that so defies vernacular or articulation; in this way, the title is appropriate for such an abstract onslaught. Mirriam Webster defines it neatly in so many words; “To Go Beyond”. This acts as a subtitle for the band itself, a shadowy collection of names (The Curator, Horror Illogium, Elsewhere) true to black metal form. To be found within these tracks are dissonant passages of aggressive black metal, transitioning relentlessly to technical death metal… At times in “13 Globes” an intermittent tuneful riff exists as disturbingly as it does transcendently. Touches like this are a stroke of genius, as pulsing percussion seems to lack distinct classification, existing as a rhythmic pursuing force. The action is consistently recorded over an endless wall of locusts, with a torrential buzz that clouds all chance to escape. The notation is beyond the miserable, feebly and slowly clawing through charcoal muck under an upside down sky. The imagery conjured is, as mentioned, expressionistic. “darkness” and “grimness” do not factor in here; this is metamorphic drone, using the tenets of black and death metal for it’s own purposes. Outré is a paramount example of a release that succeeds effortlessly where others attempt to think their way into gloom.

- Alec

It would no doubt strike most people as an unlikely occurrence to ever glimpse words such as “adorable,” “sappy,” and “metal” in a single description of a particular band and/or album of theirs.  Against those odds, this card is played here.  What happens when two individuals with a deep-seeded love for metal, as well as for each other, get together?  Well, they form a band, not just of music, but of togetherness.  Justin Small (formerly of of Torontonian outfit Do Make Say Think) and his wife Kat Taylor-Small formed a two-piece drums & bass duo in 2001, funneling their two mutual loves into one of the most uniquely creative pieces of music to come across the Toronto indie scene in a long time.  After coming together, writing and polishing up their work, the duo offered forth an 8-track EP entitled Ampgrave in 2006 which saw a limited release in the Toronto area.

The initial track, “Unite!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” offers such a fluidly moving kaleidoscope of sound and experience that one hears in differing places through out the rest of Ampgrave.  It opens with the slow buildup of a delicate keyboard gloomily played as the subtle hum of a bass sound lingers about behind it with some strings as company.  This changes slowly into something louder, before changing gears altogether into something with much more of an intense doombringing feel that somehow manages to stay almost “intimate” for the duration of the track.  There’s a localized sense of something epic occurring in this tune that’s difficult not to wrap one’s self in.

The album’s success lays in the fact that it dares not to adhere to traditional formulas of it’s genre, braving metal’s sometimes definitive boundaries by reaching out to untraditional elements so that they may be included in this project striving to be noticed by being impressively creative outside of “the box”.  Other tracks on this disc, such as “All I Can Give Ya”, “Y’Make Me Shake”, “Come Out, Come Out” carry unique characteristics in their own right.  Using a properly thought out pacing, with clearly enunciated lyrics that are written in such a way so as to give the listener the sense that a truly heartfelt message is being delivered from a very personal place.  Folks that want something in the more traditional vein of metal could look to track 6, “Nation of Two”.  In addition to this is “Bulldozer of Love”, which truly sounds like a musical bulldozer, as if their intent was to assault listeners in a Vietnam War-style bombardment of agent orange for the ears.  The closing track, “Ass Worship” could make one feel like Godzilla, destroying a city with a wide smile on his face, soaking up the fun of the revelry.

And one musn’t forget about the horns; a musical characteristic of the album that surprisingly gels well with the rest of the material, and does not in fact stand out as much as one might think.  The horns add a snakelike quality of sass and style that make the tracks sound like a carefully paced homage to a Tarantino film; fun attitude, with a bit of edge.  Ampgrave is a piece of work dripping with substance; assaulting you with rock music and soul.  The repeat listening value inherent in it cannot be stressed enough.  It is that darker side or rock music teamed up with a true sense of love that makes it a keeper.

- Gab

In today’s musical climate, the word “deathcore” is an ugly, dirty term that is only used in a negative context.  And sure, most of the bands that are considered as such blow chunks, mainly due to the fact that they hardly mold death metal and hardcore music.  Instead, they tremolo pick uninspired ‘tech’ riffs until their wrists start to hurt (signs of early arthritis due to constant masturbaton), and then slow down and deliver ‘brutal’ breakdowns that serve no purpose other than to give the guitarists a break.

But then how can bands like The Red Chord, who do blend death metal and hardcore together in a precise manner, also be lumped in – categorically speaking – with bands like Oceano and Suicide Silence? It is unfortunate for the Boston outfit, but on all of their records – especially their phenomenal debut Fused Together in Revolving Doors – the band shows no signs of giving a fuck.

Proof? “Nihilist”, “That Certain Special Ugly”, and the well-known “Dreaming in Dog Years”.  This is what deathcore – the positive (not that negative bullshit) meaning – is.  Heavy, calculated, fun.  These brutal new bands would be excused if they were jerking off to this record rather than how low to the ground those crabcoring newjacks in Attack Attack can get when they play their breakdowns.

- Logan

These guys have been getting a lot of exposure lately. They recently played a show in New York with grindcore legends Brutal Truth and Repulsion, and were the main focus of an exploratory peek into the world of extreme music in none other than The Washington Post. Yeah, that Washington Post. Things are looking good for the boys in Pig Destroyer, not the least of which because they consistently aim to experiment within and beyond their established genre. In 2004 PxDx opened the curtains to expose the grindcore milestone forever known as Terrifyer. Vocalist JR Hayes, guitarist Scott Hull, and drummer Brian Harvey already tore the extreme music community’s eyes open with the horrific, lo-fi lambasting of 2001′s Prowler in the Yard, but it’s on here the band pulls out all the stops (Recently the band added Blake Harrison to their roster, but he was still their roadie during this recording). Whether it’s the rampaging pinched harmonics in “Pretty in Casts” or the ambient, crawling mid-section in “Towering Flesh,” it’s an album that forces its listeners to consider just what constitutes as grindcore and completely shove it away. Pig Destroyer had already demonstrated on Prowler that they indeed had a thrash influence(listen: “Trojan Whore”), but none more exemplified than on the galloped chugging on “Thumbsucker” or the crossover assault that is “Gravedancer.” There are countless layers of tracking and ambience to pore over, making each successive listen more intriguing than the last. More than makes up for the fact that the band plays without a bassist (never really understood why that was such a big deal, to be honest).

Every track on this album has deep listenability, which is rare for a grindcore record. Grind is, more often than not, an experience, where diversification between tracks blurs until it becomes a heady stew of testosterone raging, politically slanted libido. Or you just get piggy vocals along with synthesized drums and and decapitated women all over the liner notes (hello, pornogrind). This is art. Sure, they label themselves the “pornographers of sound,” but it becomes much deeper than that: It’s poetic, it’s beauty, and its encased in a filleted carcass in a field of roses. JR’s lyrics are their most potent and exhilarating here: “The bullet hole looks so right in your head like it’d been missing all along/ The blood streaked across your face like some twisted lover’s deformed lipstick trace” (off of “Restraining Order Blues”). It’s not subtle, but it doesn’t once mention “killin’ bitchez” (we won’t even go there). Just understand: If you were ever to listen to only one extreme album in your life, it’s pretty accurate to tell you that this is the synthesis of all the best moments it has to offer.

- Nick