We’re surrounded by chaos, though that’s not anything new. But it feels like with everyone pulled so closely together due to the existence of social media and the surge of political ideologies that threaten to pull us full force into a fully fascist government that we’re at a tipping point that’s more volatile than anything we’ve experienced before.
It’s impossible to listen to “Echoes of the Devil’s Den,” the new record from Terminal Nation, and not feel the full force of their anger and frustration over the events that have marred this country especially and the world at large. The band—vocalist Stan Liszewski, guitarists Tommy Robinson and Dalton Rail, bassist/vocalist Chase Turner, drummer Chase Davis—delves into the ongoing nightmare that never seems to let up, especially in a presidential election year that could be our last with no good options (and one a fucking criminal with multiple indictments) on the ticket. They also dig into more personal matters that have haunted them, and that all makes for an explosive, face-melting record that lets them release the boiling trauma in their brains in a productive manner that torches power structures artistically.
The title track opens the record, doom bells chiming, the filth building as the power combusts, throaty howls lashing away. The playing is heavy as fuck, growls and shrieks opening wounds, everything darkening before fading. “Written by the Victor” features guest vocals from Todd Jones of Nails (you will never be one of him), and it’s a mashing, blinding burst, direct and violent as the growls take you apart. Thrashy fire melts, the growls punish, and everything burns into “The Spikes Under the Bridge,” which starts with heated guitar swagger. “They pick the easy target, punishing being alive, with twisted steel and unforgiving cement,” Liszewski howls, going right for the throat, thorny guitars following. Sinewy, mashing playing makes the bruising go deeper, vicious blows leaving dust behind. “No Reform” brings pummeling drums and a forceful front, battering with a storming assault. The band lashes back at the state of policing, Liszewski wailing, “There is no reform for the murder of children, no amount of training curbs a killer appetite.” The pressure continues to mount, as does the anger and disgust, and there can be no mystery behind their intent after Liszewski shouts, “Fuck every cop that’s ever fucking lived.” “Empire in Decay” chars with guitars heaving, the combined howls and growls uniting to flex, a calculated pace letting the blows take time to register. The bulk of this is punishing, guitars snarling and melting into “Embers of Humanity” an icy, dark instrumental. Guitars drip and echo as the eeriness spreads, ending with a suddenly warming gaze.
“Merchants of Bloodshed” features Jesse Leach of Killswitch Engage, and it blurs with sludgy intent, the dual vocals burying under tons of scrap metal, the battering whipped into a manic frenzy with steel teeth. The band lashes out at the perversion of war and the lustful 24-hour news cycle only too happy to spread the terror as Liszewski wails, “Face of death, a grim reaper cloaked in an American flag.” Chilling keys drip as Leach’s voice explodes, melting into a frozen resting place. “Bullet for a Stone” mauls with bending guitars, howls scorching, and the pressure becoming insurmountable. A slow-driving menace surfaces and makes footing impossible, bruising as the madness finally relents. “Dying Alive” is brutal, punishment building and crushing wills, a penetrating fury stabbing through rib cages. The guitars carve as acidic sludging multiplies, leaving chewed bones behind. “Cemetery of Imposters” features Kevin Kennedy of Sex Prisoner, and it chugs with menace and fury, Liszewski’s vocals dripping with anger. “Start digging, motherfucker, you ain’t getting saved,” stabs with ill intent, sneering and shoveling guts, laying everything to waste. “I will bury you in the fucking ground,” also doesn’t leave much to question, pounding with heavy, relentless madness. “Immolation (Of Mother Earth)” is fiery and hammering, through it has a stripe of mournful darkness, destroying as it swelters. The playing comes for you with a reckless savagery, crushing until there’s nothing left in the tank. Closer “Release the Serpents” brings Integrity’s Dwid Hellion into the fold, and it bristles with attitude as throaty howls devastate, guitars carve into bone, and scathing terror becomes a greater factor. No punches are pulled at all, spooky keys mixing in with the metallic skullduggery, warping and bleeding into strange warmth that carries us home.
The anger and unrest at the heart of “Echoes of the Devil’s Den” is so thick, you practically can smell it, its burnt-rubber toxicity easily choking you out. Terminal Nation never approached their music with a gentle hand before, and considering the state of the world at this moment, one can understand just how volatile and tormenting this attack is meant to be. There’s no escaping this madness, this disintegration of peace, and the only way to battle back is with an attack that lacks forgiveness and mercy for the oppressors.
For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/terminalnation
To buy the album, go here: https://www.20buckspin.com/terminalnation
For more on the label, go here: https://www.20buckspin.com/
Meat Mead Metal 