
Born Of Osiris are Sumerian Records’ new superstars. Label mates The Faceless have gifted their usual spot on the American Summer Slaughter Tour to these math metal crowd pleasers. These guys are superstars. Summer Slaughter! And their new album is nauseating.
Sumerian Records are dead set on giving a uniform production quality to all of their bands, which range from “progressive” melodic deathcore to inexplicable pop punk confection. Born Of Osiris’ high gain guitar tone on A Higher Place is identical to After The Burial and Veil Of Maya’s latest efforts… Kick drum too, and the barely registered bass… Come to think of it, every other mode of production is exactly the same. This is a pity for Sumerian fans; I think they will rarely feel the current of excitement that washes over before a long awaited album is about to be released, because they are getting the same album four times a year thanks to this label. Yes, this is firstly a generic output, but also a thoroughly unenjoyable one. From the gaudy and painfully tacky album art, to the neutered production, listening to this feels like throwing your bacon off the pan and instead drinking the cooking fat. There is an abundance of redundant palm mutes, harmonized scales, cotton candy synth pads, and flat vocal delivery, all of which scream that this gutless melodeathmathfuckallcore revival needs to stop in it’s tracks.
There really are no bands worth listening to on Sumerian, but A Higher Place takes tastelessness to a new peak (I could have written a ‘higher place’, which would have nicely complimented the cheese that is already overflowing from this turd). The melodic nature of the disc ranges from little chromatic riffs and synth driven leadwork that could be taken from the soundtrack of a third rate sci fi show… On Fox. While that is sort of different in it’s own right, that millisecond revelation quickly comes crashing to Earth when the monotonous fucking br00tal shite spewing from the vocalist’s mouth pollutes all nature of listenability. Where is the enthusiasm and sincerity to be found in this parody? Where is the urgency? All have given way to a cold passionless thirteen songs that neither evolve the band, nor even allow you to have fun. Die, you goddamn record label.









(2.5/10)
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