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HEMOTOXIN
When Time Becomes Loss

Pulverised (2024)
Rating: 8.5/10

It’d hard to believe that 14 years have passed since the first demo from Pittsburg, California-based progressive death thrashers Hemotoxin. Since that time we’ve been treated to more demos, an EP and three full-length albums, the last being 2020 release Restructure The Molded Mind.

Brace yourself then for another sizzling bout of intricacy and brain-frying complexity as the clan embark upon a journey that sparks and fizzes as if suddenly one of those scorching leads or fragmented rhythms is going to short circuit the electrical grid. With Hemotoxin you get a Teutonic styled thrash assault; tight, dry, sneering and raw layered with entangled leads and a pace that scolds the ears.

The album runs for just short of 30-minutes and its initial impact is quite the savage rake across the eyeballs, but it could also be argued that after a few spins some of cuts bleed into one orgy of blistering tumult as a myriad of frantic solos compete with one another like a nest of wires. Even so, there are a few subtle layers too, particularly with ‘Conscious Descent’, but it’s one of those albums that, at times, can be too befuddling for its own good to the point that much of what’s on offer doesn’t bed in to the psyche of the listener, ‘Malediction’ being a prime example.

You’ll notice various swerves towards Vektor, Revocation and latter day Death all conjured from the mind of Michael Chavez. I do recommend that you give this snappy release time and also become absorbed by the artwork of Mark Cooper which bears striking resemblance to Brad Moore’s work for Slimelord’s latest album, Chytridiomycosis Relinquished.

While the platter is punchy, a little bit of meatier repetition wouldn’t go amiss at times, and yet oddly, even with complexities, there is a predictable air to its messy meandering. However, I’ve always had a craving for this kind of prog deathliness and although Hemotoxin is still yet to fully convince me, When Time Becomes Loss is still a mind-bending race through the veins, albeit one that bends my head and demands full attention with each repeated listen.

Neil Arnold

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