Band:	Primitive Man
Album:	Scorn
Style:	Noise, Blackened sludge metal
Release date:	February 2013

01. Scorn
02. Rags
03. I Can't Forget
04. Antietam
05. Black Smoke
06. Stretched Thin
07. Astral Sleep

I can clearly remember the day that I first crossed paths with Primitive Man's Scorn. It was one of the usual "coffee + Metal Storm" mornings, where I ritually checked silly Shoutbox conversations before proceeding to browse the new releases. Scrolling down the first page, a lovely image greeted me: an album cover depicting some guy with a skull for a head, who was graciously grabbing another guy's head by its hair and shoving a gun to his screaming face. "Wooooaaaaahhhh," I said to myself. "This oughta be some sick shit." I would soon find out, however, just what an understatement "sick shit" would end up being.

At the time of Primitive Man's formation, frontman Ethan Lee McCarthy was no newcomer to the sludge and hardcore landscapes. Having honorably honed his craft with other, equally as vicious bands such as Clinging To The Trees Of A Forest Fire and Death Of Self, making oppressive, groovy, and loud as fuhhh music at this point seemed to be almost second nature for him. Primitive Man, however, aimed to be a much heavier beast in terms of the weight of its more sludge influenced riffs, and carry a massive wall of sound with it dedicated to nothing other than smothering you in the excess of its booming filth. And this was a goal at which the band certainly succeeded with 2013's Scorn, one of the most crushing and imposing releases that the blackened sludge style has yet seen. Thick, pulsating riffs pound you into oblivion, and then have their way with what's left of your body. Sometimes the riffs feel a bit monotonous, but for the most part they have a wicked nasty groove to them that's sure to get you hooked, especially on the insanely catchy "Rags" and "Stretched Thin." Of course, there's also the "blackened" aspect of the music as well, mostly evident not only when the tempo really picks up speed and starts thundering away (see "Antietam") but also, interestingly enough, during some slower moments as well where some subtle tremolo picking techniques can be heard (middle of the title track). And, of course, the vocals of "ELM," as he's come to be called, are just downright fearsome, proving he's easily one of the best vocalists his style has to offer.

Production wise, however, is where Scorn really shines. Primitive Man are a downright excellent example of a band who are actually much better off without the addition of a second guitarist, as the lack of one significantly leads to a greater role for bassist Jonathan Campos and drummer Isidro Soto, who's heavy-as-a-hurricane rhythm section is absolutely crucial to maintaining the band's sound. While Ethan plods away on guitar, you can hear these guys and the fat, monstrous noise they create rumbling away in the background, and it's straight up ferocious. This, combined with the heavy, gritty distortion of the guitar and bass, help to make Scorn a nasty, nasty album, which is without a doubt ideal for this type of music. What we have here is definitely a case of a band whose music actually benefits from that "dirtier than a KFC bathroom" type production, and indeed, one who couldn't do without it.

I've revisited this album again and again and again since that fateful day that I heard it for the first time back in 2013, and it has without question become (probably along with When All Became None) my favorite blackened sludge album period. Primitive Man might not have the inherent catchiness of Coffinworm, or the atmosphere of The Body, for example, but they make up for it with the sheer weight, meanness, and uncompromising nature of their music. While the composition here might be a little more basic and stripped down than some other blackened sludge bands, it works, and it works tremendously. This is an album from a band with a "less is more" frame of mind, that sets out to beat you til you're bleeding, beat you til your bones are broken, and then beat you again just for good measure. And I'll be damned if it doesn't succeed in doing so.

Indulge, you philthy phucks.