Pissgrave returns six years after Posthumous Humiliation. The Philadelphia quartet surely takes their time. Guess it takes years to soak up all the bodily fluids and scoop up all those pieces of worm-infested brain matter from the studio. They were picked up by Profound Lore barely a year after their demo, so there is at least one sick bastard who sees value in this band besides me and the crazy man I see when I look down into my toilet to admire my physical review of a Pissgrave album. Cuz this is some nasty shit: the whole “roll around in mud and gore” and yadda yadda.
It is a challenge to explain why I find this appealing. The morbid curiosity pulls me in and I get closer to the Bestgore-watching-teenager version of me rather than the current, somewhat responsible adult version who works, pays his taxes and calls his mom regularly (Hi mom! <3). I even saw these guys live when they were touring with Undergang; the concert was inside a boat-turned-venue and it was more brutal than Britney Spears in a bikini dancing with knives (I follow her Instagram, so take my word for it).
I have enjoyed all their work so far but I’m happy to say there is some progression to be found. While Posthumous Humiliation had some interesting changes in tempo as well as melodious(!) riffs sprinkled here and there, it was a miss to make it so long at 43 minutes. But still, props to them for making me appreciate how serious a case of picasso-to-the-face can be. Meanwhile, Malignant Worthlessness has a more digestible running time of 31 minutes just like their debut, Suicide Euphoria. The much shorter songs don’t have enough time to develop much in the way of intriguing concepts such as “melody”, “memorability” or “taste”, but they pack a much greater punch than Pissgrave’s previous records. This is thanks to the septic production work that makes the riffs stand out with a chunkier, doom-like tone, and with more bass while the drums are echoing and crushing. It also provides the morbid aroma that can be found in war metal bands such as Revenge, although that might just be the tremolo riffs that appear from time to time. But I insist these two bands share a lot in sound when one considers the heavily distorted vocals, the noise elements and the over-the-top songwriting.
Malignant Worthlessness is a disorienting, nauseating experience, and the vile growls with the added effects put further emphasis on the disgusting themes. They may be corny, but let me remind you that there is no great thinking involved when it comes to enjoying this. This is auditive carnage just meant to kill some brain cells after a draining workweek. The songs melt into each other like a soup of spine fluids, and I would be hard-pressed to recall a favorite moment on the spot. Malignant Worthlessness does exactly what it's intended to do, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
