Google the band name and you’ll discover that these guys are, supposedly, the second coming of the New Wave of British Heavy Metal plus Thrash Metal plus Black Metal plus Death Metal plus Other Pigeon Holed Bullshit.
Shit, even their label’s band bio is rife with hackneyed “appeal to all those old fucks who retain their death-grip on Priest’s pwnage of 80s metal” ideals. Seriously, guys… “[j]ust when you think the keg is killed, Judas Priest joins the party with a fresh case of beer”? You have got to be fucking kidding me. This is the best that the slack-jawed pole-smokers at Prosthetic Records (home to a number of respectable bands) can come up with?
Pay no mind to all that drivel.
The signal-to-noise ratio with regard to Skeletonwitch information on the Internet is so meager and disappointing that you’d think this was your next-door neighbor’s garage band trying to find a foothold in the local–undoubtedly–shitty metal scene.
Wow, I’m really pitching a bitchfit here, huh?
Skeletonwitch are, indeed, a thrash/black/death metal outfit. Thing is: Everything on the ‘net about the band and/or this release (including this review) is weak, trite, or pandering.
Another thing is: This album is so fucking good that I can’t put it into words.
Maybe that explains the dearth of insightful information? It’s either that, or the fact that this type of metal is–by definition–shallow and vapid and devoid of redeeming messages. Yeah, that’s redundant, but we’ve got “fire from the motherfucking sky” going on over here.
Whaddya’ got over there?