On very rare occasions, there comes along an album that completely catches you off guard...an album that grabs you by the fucking balls and squeezes until they burst in a bloody, jizzy mess...an album that absolutely reminds you why you listen to metal in the first place. Russia's KATALEPSY, with their third full-length "Terra Mortuus Est", have delivered a tech/death/slam masterpiece.
The production is crisp, the musicianship kicks ass, and the vocals are a rampaging behemoth. Hell, even the bass steps and sidesteps its way through the tracks in a jittering, epileptic fit.
'Closer Than Flesh' opens the album with the force of one thousand masturbating monoliths spreading their seed over the miniscule land it's stomping through. And goddamn if 'Night Of Eden' doesn't flatten you on your ass with an animosity rivalling the best death/slam bands of this era. And if that isn't enough, 'Those Who Rot The Souls' comes out with its arms flailing all over the fucking place. The album continues with its rapid riffs and thudding drums throughout 'The God Of Grave' and 'Terra Mortuus Est'.
In case you haven't figured it out yet, this album is loud. No wait, this album is FUCKING LOUD!!! With 'Kings Of The Underground' and 'Deep Down Madness', the pit will be filled with an animosity not unlike a swarm of angry fire-ants. But then comes 'No Rest No Peace' which will have you avoiding head-kicks at every angle. The breakdowns (and there are multiple) in this track are the reason we adore this genre of music in every way. If you don't destroy everything near you when this is cranked up, then you're not listening properly. 'From The Dark Past (They Come)', 'Neonomicon III' and 'Land Of Million Crosses' end the album with a fucking bang. And Jesus Bartholemew Christ, the gutteral vocals which grind their way through segments of a couple of songs are brutal.
There's absolutely no weak points in "Terra Mortuus Est". It grinds, pounds, crushes and destroys from beginning to end. My turntable simply won't let this vinyl loose from its grasp.
- David Simonton