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SUPPRESSION
The Sorrow Of Soul Through Flesh

Unspeakable Axe (2022)
Rating: 8.5/10

You just cannot argue with South American death metal. Chilean outfit Suppression channels the likes of Obituary, Possessed and Death for a devastating debut full-length platter, featuring ten prime cuts served up with a rawness and chaos to match anything that has emerged within the scene for the last 20 years.

As with a majority of South American bands of this ilk, there’s that organic authenticity, a striking, devilish sincerity suggesting something in the water enables such bands to replicate evil storms of madness.

The dehydrated vocal marbles of Alejandro Cruz do it for me; reaching, wretched gasps cast upon waves of thrashing chaos harkening back to the cryptic aggression of Master and Possessed.

Opener ‘Lifelessness’ introduces us to the manic bass of Pablo Cortes who steals the show here amidst a whirlwind of dusty percussion , vintage axe slaying and, again, those dry vocal vomits.

Flashes of old Morgoth toy with those trademark Obituary snarls, which are evident in the twisted battery of ‘Overfeeding Gaps’ where the bass lines contort and flex. Meanwhile, ‘Monochromatic Chambers’, ‘Misunderstanding Reality’ and ‘Self-Eaten Alive’ judder with roguish intensity as the guitars thrash, which are nifty in nature, ploughing a furrow of ghastly horror yet not overweight or gloomy.

Suppression sounds like an artefact carved from the earth; ancient, primitive and primeval. ‘Unperpetual Misery’ features death / thrash waves mixed with chuggier segments, while instrumental ‘Unwinding Harmonies’ trundles with jarring aggression, and ‘Extortion Behaviors’ rips with its frenzied mashing of guitar and drum.

It’s a hostile yet foreboding record, an outing that pays homage to first and second wave death metal with occasional nods to later vibes of bands such as Diabolic, and all the while maintaining that fusty odour that only South American acts possess. Stripped down, stark death metal is the order of the day here – nothing more, nothing less – and that’s why The Sorrow Of Soul Through Flesh is such a rough diamond to marvel at.

Neil Arnold

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