Band:	Obituary
Album:	Cause Of Death
Style:	Death metal
Release date:	September 1990

01. Infected
02. Body Bag
03. Chopped In Half
04. Circle Of The Tyrants [Celtic Frost cover]
05. Dying
06. Find The Arise
07. Cause Of Death
08. Memories Remain
09. Turned Inside Out
10. Infected [demo] [1997 remaster bonus]
11. Memories Remain [demo] [1997 remaster bonus]
12. Chopped In Half [demo] [1997 remaster bonus]

Long before the clean and crisp sounding, skull-splitting, face-melting, guttural, hyperactive instrumental aficionados of the modern death metal scene, there was Obituary.

Cause of Death may be the middle sibling, but this album certainly isn't overlooked. And for good reason. It features all the death metal staples bands are still replicating and honoring in their own way generations later: aggression, groove (so much groove!), technicality, brutality -- it's all there. But what tends to get lost in the overall discussion surrounding their earlier releases is the atmosphere, something which is exceedingly difficult to capture without feeling forced or out of place, particularly given the genre. While many successful death metal bands were focusing on similar elements in their approach to create a dynamic sound, Obituary didn't relinquish an iota of their extremity, where other bands tended to feel a little stripped of their intensity as a result.

For those who were never acquainted with the Obituary name, it's likely you've never bothered to delve into their catalog since they're probably just some overrated death metal band all the old guys hype up trying to re-live their rebellious youth, but you know better by now because every other time you've tried to explore this kind of music, you left with your initial negative perceptions reinforced. All these old bastards have no clue what actual good music is these days. "Shaking my head," as it were. The immaculate riffs and intricate solos not only stand up to the most technical death metal albums you can think of, but each song is written in a way that demonstrates an understanding of the importance of timing and mood. Snail-paced doomy passages permeate the hammer-smashed-face moments, creating a harsh and gritty tone underlined by a feeling of unease. Plus, you have an actual human drummer people can relate to who carries a beat and acknowledges his kit like its own working organic life form instead of just blastbeating his way to infinity and sporadically tapping the cymbals for fun. Fans of Origin to Visceral Disgorge (hi, that's me) can at least respect this for its parental attributes, if not for its similarity in tone.

This of course brings up the most disputed aspect of the band: John Tardy. He isn't equipped with the level of depth or pitch you hear from your average demon-possessed extreme metal vocalists nowadays, but his style is nothing if not unique. It's truly visceral, almost like it hurts him every time he spits his undoubtedly putrid words into the mic. It's not an immediate fist to the face, as they tease you with some of the good (guitar) stuff right at the beginning. But when he comes in right after... Well, let's just say he prepares you for the next 40-or-so minutes, emphasized by bringing his raspy, gnarly shouts to the forefront in the mix -- an almost offensively obvious decision just for the sake of it. Perhaps they wanted to weed out the posers, or in modern parlance, all those fake af bitches.

Basically, if you don't like this, they didn't want you to anyway. If you managed to tread through to the end and think you're some sort of badass as a result, well whoopty doo, get in line.