Son Of Aurelius

1. Shields Album of the Year – Son of Aurelius – “The Farthest Reaches.”
I don’t know about you, but I’m the kind of person who finds a record and obsesses on it. I’ve spent much of 2010 doing just that for Santa Cruz-based Son of Aurelius. From the first time I saw the video for “Myocardial Infarction” to the last notes of “The First, the Serpent,” this is the sickest compilation of in-your-face technical progressive death metal you might ever want to hear. Cary Geare shows off his visionary guitar playing on “Facing the Gorgon” – I still want to know how he makes that harpsichord sound that jerks your head up in the middle of intensely brutal death metal. Still, what really solidifies this band’s sound is the rhythm section of bassist Max Zigman and drummer Spencer Edwards. I firmly believe these guys have the ability and drive to be among the biggest names in the genre, maybe someday even more than that. “The Farthest Reaches” is definitely the Shields Album of the year. - The Metal Register

No more than a few years ago, all anyone had heard about Cattle Decapitation was that they were a bunch of rabid vegan goregrinders with a penchant for liberating livestock and killing babies. Yet with the benefit of increased media exposure, and as the band evolved from their primitive, cacophonous grind incarnation to the complex technical deathgrind act of today, people gradually found out the facts behind the myths: while the band is composed of vegetarians, they have never shoved their message down anyone’s throats, they have never sabotaged a livestock farm, have never dumped animal blood on women and fur coats, and if they kill babies, they’ve gotten pretty damn good at hiding it. In any case, such sensational distractions have obscured an important fact: Cattle Decapitation is one of the foremost envelope-pushers in contemporary death metal, and they do so without letting go of any of the violence and ugliness that death metal fans know and love. For this reason, I, Patrick O’Donnell, lifelong omnivore, went to see Cattle Decapitation’s headlining set on the New York City stop of the California Blood Tour. In support were three young up-and-comers: Santa Cruz-based Son of Aurelius, San Diego’s Burning the Masses, and Phoenix’s Knights of the Abyss. To sweeten the deal, brutal death metal legends Devourment were playing on their first full-length US tour since the band’s inception in 1995. I arrived at the Chinatown venue early, where I spent some time checking out the bands’ gear, watching sound checks, interviewing Son of Aurelius, Knights of the Abyss, and Cattle Decapitation, and chatting a bit with members of Devourment on the side.
Unfortunately, it being a Monday night, there had to be fewer than 70 people in attendance by the time Son of Aurelius hit the stage for their opening slot. Luckily, this didn’t have any effect on the band’s energy level, and they tore through a set of blisteringly technical and rhythmically unpredictable songs from their recently-released album “The Farthest Reaches.” It was clear that the five-piece couldn’t care less about how many people were on the floor. Lead axeman Cary Geare and touring guitarist Israel Betancourt dashed off a series of heavy riffs and dazzling solos, and drummer Spencer Edwards donned headphones in order to hear a click-track which guided the band through the myriad meter and tempo changes scattered throughout their songs. Their aggressive and melodic style of technical death metal was an exercise in precision, and the young band more than proved that they had the chops to hang with the rest of the bill.
As I turned my attention from the players to the crowd, I noticed a distinctly unpleasant element showing up during Son of Aurelius’ set. I’ll give you a hint: what’s more annoying than a hipster, an MMA fighter, or a hardcore kid when considered by themselves? Well, what happens when you roll on those annoying folks into one? You guessed it: a deathcore kid. Straight-brimmed New Era-hat-wearin’, wife-beater-and-flannel sportin’, skinny-jeans flashin’, massive-earplug displayin’ deathcore kids. Now, like anyone should know, clothes don’t make the person. You can wear whatever you want and still probably be a cool dude, and I’d even venture (although I’m less sure of this) that you can listen to deathcore and not be a douchebag. The problem is that the only people in the room who were self-consciously strutting, sizing each other up, homoerotically touching each other, getting in each other’s faces, and flexing their sinewy-ass excuse for muscles (damn, why are deathcore kids always so skinny?) were the aforementioned kids, in all their sartorial splendor. As a result, upon moving my eyes from the crowd back to the stage, I decided that I had a pretty good idea of what Burning the Masses were all about. As it turns out, the San Diego-based band plays a straightforward. but impressive. brand of technical death metal heavily influenced by deathcore. Indeed, comparisons to Beneath the Massacre and The Faceless wouldn’t be too far off. Yet Burning the Masses relies less on unpredictable tempo changes and more on straight-up instrumental pyrotechnics. In short, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t bang my bald head: it was loud, the guitarists shred through sweeps and pinch harmonics like crazy, vocalist Brian Kulikoff is a livewire with a good death grunt and low growl, and, the dirtiest secret of all, breakdowns do sound pretty cool live. Also, as with any band that straddles such a divide, the pit gets pretty entertaining. As I turned around, I saw a few tough-guy hardcore “dancers” (not “skankers,” whose self-appellation is beyond me), who decided to throw their limbs everywhere, putting the safety of just about everyone but themselves at risk, alongside some more orthodox moshers who barreled into one another at speeds that ensured mutual destruction.
Yet perhaps the wildest reception was reserved for deathcore-cum-melodic death metallers Knights of the Abyss, the best established of the younger bands on the tour. Vocalist Logan Cavanaugh (aka Harley Magnum) spent nearly all of the 7-song set at floor level in front of the increasingly populous and enthusiastic crowd. “I wanna see blood on this fucking floor!” he bellowed as Knights tore into “The House of Crimson Coin,” and he even started a small melee when he shoved a few of us around about halfway through the set. More than a few people knew every word, there were plenty of Knights of the Abyss t-shirts to be seen, and Cavanaugh could count on just about anyone within reach to belt out a line or two if he shoved the mic in their direction. While the band doesn’t go for technical wizardry as much as either Son of Aurelius or Burning the Masses, they have an accessible sound with broad appeal across the metalcore, deathcore, and death metal spectrum. Moreover, they’re working with an almost completely new lineup (besides founding guitarist Nick Florence) and thus have had a recent infusion of new life. Pair that appeal and energy with the tightness with which they perform their set, and I predict a good deal of success in this ambitious and relatively new band’s future.
And now, to quote Monty Python, for something completely different: Devourment. Holy hell. I hate the word “brutal” when it’s applied to music, since it has almost no descriptive value, it’s always applied to bands that are about as brutal as the Mickey Mouse Club, and it’s overused even when it does apply, to boot, but here I’ll make an exception. Devourment is brutal, brutal, brutal. They’re so brutal it hurts. Then again, what would you expect from a band that revolutionized a subgenre known as “brutal death metal?” Despite being “the” band to know in American underground death metal at least since their 1999 full-length debut “Molesting the Decapitated,” Devourment has never found enough support to conduct a full-length tour of the US. As a result, they’ve played a good deal in Canada and have even launched a few tours of metal-friendly Europe, but, for the most part, they’re rarely seen outside of their native Texas. Musically speaking, Devourment gets straight to the point: they clearly don’t give a flying fetus about being technical or artsy, and apparently they even think that pitch is for wusses. The band grinds out a series of filthy, chugging riffs which vary from fast to slow to slower to “slams,” which are basically the incestuous ugly mother of all breakdowns, all superimposed over clamorous blastbeats and cymbal crashes. In other words, it’s awesome. Mike Majewski’s disgustingly ultra-low vocals don’t enunciate so much as vomit, rendering any of the lyrics unintelligible… and thank God, too, because the lyrics to songs like “Postmortal Coprophagia” and “Babykiller” would make even your most inveterate sicko wince. A few minutes before the set started, I asked a several-beers-deep Majewski just how he gets his voice to do such unspeakable things. His answer: “It’s all outwards, man. I don’t do inwards. If you’re doing it and it hurts, keep doing it until it doesn’t hurt anymore.” Needless to say, I tried growling along with Devourment’s set, and by the time Cattle Decapitation rolled around, I could barely talk. Majewski, for his part, beer in one hand and mic in the other, endeared himself to the New York crowd by hurling taunts about how the Texas Rangers were going to beat the Yankees in the ALCS (he turned out to be right), talking about how drunk he was, making par-for-the-course misogynistic comments, and falling down on stage. Yet whatever differences existed between the Texans and the New Yorkers, they didn’t matter while the music was playing. As I had foreseen, almost all the deathcore kids had high-tailed it after Burning the Masses and Knights of the Abyss, and now things resembled a death metal show: despite the relative thinness of the crowd, during the grind and slam of gems such as “Serial Cocksucker” and “Choking on Bile,” the overweight, the ugly (including yours truly), the leather-clad, the combat-booted, the chained, the dreaded, the Jesus-haired, and the conspicuously over-tattooed vigorously headbanged and smashed into one another in a celebration of good, not-so-clean fun. Bassist Captain Piss donned a horse’s head mask and wore it for a good deal of the set, and at one point Majewski exhorted the crowd to keep moshing, or else “Captain Horse Piss is gonna come back there and punch the shit out of all you motherfuckers.” Couldn’t have said it better myself. I can’t wait to catch these guys when they tour with Cannibal Corpse, Dying Fetus, and Vital Remains later this month.
Finally in the midst of theatrical red lights and smoke, Cattle Decapitation took the stage, kicking off with the frenetic, misanthropic, and anthemic “The Gardeners of Eden,” the opening track off their most recent “The Harvest Floor.” As vocalist and full-time madman Travis Ryan took the stage, he bellowed “You’d better start forming a pit, because there’s no way you’re gonna be able to dance to this shit!” He wasn’t lying—the time changes are so abrupt, the meters are so odd, the breaks are so unpredictable, and the styles are all so seamlessly wound together that anybody who’s never heard the songs doesn’t have an alcoholic’s chance in a brewery of figuring out what’s coming next. Apparently most of the crowd had shown up for the previous four bands, because the crowd was startlingly thin by the time Cattle Decapitation began their set—the rest must have been called back by lengthy commutes and Tuesday morning responsibilities. Out of those who did stay, not too many people seemed to be familiar with the band’s music, outside of three or four diehards who belted Ryan’s lyrics back to him at the edge of the stage. No matter. Ryan has a distinctive delivery and excellent vocal chops, and he was as impressive in person as he is in the studio. He used every register of his vocal range, from pissed-off death growl to blood-curdling scream to subhuman grunts and gurgles that lent credence to the band’s basic message that we humans are not as advanced as we think we are. Those of us (un)lucky enough to be in the very front had the dubious privilege of being sprayed with Ryan’s sweat and saliva—the man does quite a job of projectile spitting and purposely drooling on himself, I must say. Watching his antics, as well as the way that he visibly throws every ounce of his body into his powerful outbursts, is worth price of admission alone. It was also quite a treat to see guitarist Josh Elmore do what he does up close and personal. Whether blowing through batshit insane solos (especially “A Body Farm,” “The Product Alive,” and “The Ripe Beneath the Rind”), making horrifying industrial sounds, or engaging in some nifty off-kilter riffing and filling, it was awesome to witness a top-of-the-line guitarist who’s unafraid to think outside the death metal box. Drummer David McGraw was, as always, unbelievably precise, a veritable blastbeat, double-bass, and fill machine. The highlight of the set was no doubt the performance of the deliciously schizophrenic “The Ripe Beneath the Rind;” it’s a time signature-bending, fretboard-defying, voice-shredding, tending-stretching, angular, grind blast with not a single moment to rest, and it’s definitely one that I would of thought was too difficult to pull off live. The fact that the veterans ripped through it a cut above the album tempo is a testament to how good they are and how well they play together. Just because it’s metal doesn’t mean it isn’t chamber music! Although most songs were from “The Harvest Floor,” the band also went as far back as 2002’s “To Serve Man,” and “Total Gore?” and the title track made an appearance off 2006’s “Karma. Bloody. Karma.” Yet Ryan dedicated the last song, “Into the Public Bath,” to all of New York city: if you read the lyrics, it’s not a flattering dedication. After playing one of the craziest (and sickest) tracks off “The Harvest Floor,” the band called it a night. Some lingered next to the stage, and others stalked around the merch tables, but the majority of the metal faithful trickled back into the city outside until the next show.
Fortunately, it appears that fans will be able to expect a new Cattle Decapitation album some time in 2011, which means that they’ll be out promoting it on some of the summer tour packages such as Summer Slaughter. It’s definitely worth catching this band, which has finally starting hitting its stride in the past few years. Hopefully there’s more great stuff to come from this adventurous outfit. I’d also say that the California Blood Tour was quite a successful package – with a mixture of old and new, it has the potential to unite different fans and to share the misanthropic love that is death metal. - The Metal Register

No more than a few years ago, all anyone had heard about Cattle Decapitation was that they were a bunch of rabid vegan goregrinders with a penchant for liberating livestock and killing babies. Yet with the benefit of increased media exposure, and as the band evolved from their primitive, cacophonous grind incarnation to the complex technical deathgrind act of today, people gradually found out the facts behind the myths: while the band is composed of vegetarians, they have never shoved their message down anyone’s throats, they have never sabotaged a livestock farm, have never dumped animal blood on women and fur coats, and if they kill babies, they’ve gotten pretty damn good at hiding it. In any case, such sensational distractions have obscured an important fact: Cattle Decapitation is one of the foremost envelope-pushers in contemporary death metal, and they do so without letting go of any of the violence and ugliness that death metal fans know and love. For this reason, I, Patrick O’Donnell, lifelong omnivore, went to see Cattle Decapitation’s headlining set on the New York City stop of the California Blood Tour. In support were three young up-and-comers: Santa Cruz-based Son of Aurelius, San Diego’s Burning the Masses, and Phoenix’s Knights of the Abyss. To sweeten the deal, brutal death metal legends Devourment were playing on their first full-length US tour since the band’s inception in 1995. I arrived at the Chinatown venue early, where I spent some time checking out the bands’ gear, watching sound checks, interviewing Son of Aurelius, Knights of the Abyss, and Cattle Decapitation, and chatting a bit with members of Devourment on the side.
Unfortunately, it being a Monday night, there had to be fewer than 70 people in attendance by the time Son of Aurelius hit the stage for their opening slot. Luckily, this didn’t have any effect on the band’s energy level, and they tore through a set of blisteringly technical and rhythmically unpredictable songs from their recently-released album “The Farthest Reaches.” It was clear that the five-piece couldn’t care less about how many people were on the floor. Lead axeman Cary Geare and touring guitarist Israel Betancourt dashed off a series of heavy riffs and dazzling solos, and drummer Spencer Edwards donned headphones in order to hear a click-track which guided the band through the myriad meter and tempo changes scattered throughout their songs. Their aggressive and melodic style of technical death metal was an exercise in precision, and the young band more than proved that they had the chops to hang with the rest of the bill.
As I turned my attention from the players to the crowd, I noticed a distinctly unpleasant element showing up during Son of Aurelius’ set. I’ll give you a hint: what’s more annoying than a hipster, an MMA fighter, or a hardcore kid when considered by themselves? Well, what happens when you roll on those annoying folks into one? You guessed it: a deathcore kid. Straight-brimmed New Era-hat-wearin’, wife-beater-and-flannel sportin’, skinny-jeans flashin’, massive-earplug displayin’ deathcore kids. Now, like anyone should know, clothes don’t make the person. You can wear whatever you want and still probably be a cool dude, and I’d even venture (although I’m less sure of this) that you can listen to deathcore and not be a douchebag. The problem is that the only people in the room who were self-consciously strutting, sizing each other up, homoerotically touching each other, getting in each other’s faces, and flexing their sinewy-ass excuse for muscles (damn, why are deathcore kids always so skinny?) were the aforementioned kids, in all their sartorial splendor. As a result, upon moving my eyes from the crowd back to the stage, I decided that I had a pretty good idea of what Burning the Masses were all about. As it turns out, the San Diego-based band plays a straightforward. but impressive. brand of technical death metal heavily influenced by deathcore. Indeed, comparisons to Beneath the Massacre and The Faceless wouldn’t be too far off. Yet Burning the Masses relies less on unpredictable tempo changes and more on straight-up instrumental pyrotechnics. In short, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t bang my bald head: it was loud, the guitarists shred through sweeps and pinch harmonics like crazy, vocalist Brian Kulikoff is a livewire with a good death grunt and low growl, and, the dirtiest secret of all, breakdowns do sound pretty cool live. Also, as with any band that straddles such a divide, the pit gets pretty entertaining. As I turned around, I saw a few tough-guy hardcore “dancers” (not “skankers,” whose self-appellation is beyond me), who decided to throw their limbs everywhere, putting the safety of just about everyone but themselves at risk, alongside some more orthodox moshers who barreled into one another at speeds that ensured mutual destruction.
Yet perhaps the wildest reception was reserved for deathcore-cum-melodic death metallers Knights of the Abyss, the best established of the younger bands on the tour. Vocalist Logan Cavanaugh (aka Harley Magnum) spent nearly all of the 7-song set at floor level in front of the increasingly populous and enthusiastic crowd. “I wanna see blood on this fucking floor!” he bellowed as Knights tore into “The House of Crimson Coin,” and he even started a small melee when he shoved a few of us around about halfway through the set. More than a few people knew every word, there were plenty of Knights of the Abyss t-shirts to be seen, and Cavanaugh could count on just about anyone within reach to belt out a line or two if he shoved the mic in their direction. While the band doesn’t go for technical wizardry as much as either Son of Aurelius or Burning the Masses, they have an accessible sound with broad appeal across the metalcore, deathcore, and death metal spectrum. Moreover, they’re working with an almost completely new lineup (besides founding guitarist Nick Florence) and thus have had a recent infusion of new life. Pair that appeal and energy with the tightness with which they perform their set, and I predict a good deal of success in this ambitious and relatively new band’s future.
And now, to quote Monty Python, for something completely different: Devourment. Holy hell. I hate the word “brutal” when it’s applied to music, since it has almost no descriptive value, it’s always applied to bands that are about as brutal as the Mickey Mouse Club, and it’s overused even when it does apply, to boot, but here I’ll make an exception. Devourment is brutal, brutal, brutal. They’re so brutal it hurts. Then again, what would you expect from a band that revolutionized a subgenre known as “brutal death metal?” Despite being “the” band to know in American underground death metal at least since their 1999 full-length debut “Molesting the Decapitated,” Devourment has never found enough support to conduct a full-length tour of the US. As a result, they’ve played a good deal in Canada and have even launched a few tours of metal-friendly Europe, but, for the most part, they’re rarely seen outside of their native Texas. Musically speaking, Devourment gets straight to the point: they clearly don’t give a flying fetus about being technical or artsy, and apparently they even think that pitch is for wusses. The band grinds out a series of filthy, chugging riffs which vary from fast to slow to slower to “slams,” which are basically the incestuous ugly mother of all breakdowns, all superimposed over clamorous blastbeats and cymbal crashes. In other words, it’s awesome. Mike Majewski’s disgustingly ultra-low vocals don’t enunciate so much as vomit, rendering any of the lyrics unintelligible… and thank God, too, because the lyrics to songs like “Postmortal Coprophagia” and “Babykiller” would make even your most inveterate sicko wince. A few minutes before the set started, I asked a several-beers-deep Majewski just how he gets his voice to do such unspeakable things. His answer: “It’s all outwards, man. I don’t do inwards. If you’re doing it and it hurts, keep doing it until it doesn’t hurt anymore.” Needless to say, I tried growling along with Devourment’s set, and by the time Cattle Decapitation rolled around, I could barely talk. Majewski, for his part, beer in one hand and mic in the other, endeared himself to the New York crowd by hurling taunts about how the Texas Rangers were going to beat the Yankees in the ALCS (he turned out to be right), talking about how drunk he was, making par-for-the-course misogynistic comments, and falling down on stage. Yet whatever differences existed between the Texans and the New Yorkers, they didn’t matter while the music was playing. As I had foreseen, almost all the deathcore kids had high-tailed it after Burning the Masses and Knights of the Abyss, and now things resembled a death metal show: despite the relative thinness of the crowd, during the grind and slam of gems such as “Serial Cocksucker” and “Choking on Bile,” the overweight, the ugly (including yours truly), the leather-clad, the combat-booted, the chained, the dreaded, the Jesus-haired, and the conspicuously over-tattooed vigorously headbanged and smashed into one another in a celebration of good, not-so-clean fun. Bassist Captain Piss donned a horse’s head mask and wore it for a good deal of the set, and at one point Majewski exhorted the crowd to keep moshing, or else “Captain Horse Piss is gonna come back there and punch the shit out of all you motherfuckers.” Couldn’t have said it better myself. I can’t wait to catch these guys when they tour with Cannibal Corpse, Dying Fetus, and Vital Remains later this month.
Finally in the midst of theatrical red lights and smoke, Cattle Decapitation took the stage, kicking off with the frenetic, misanthropic, and anthemic “The Gardeners of Eden,” the opening track off their most recent “The Harvest Floor.” As vocalist and full-time madman Travis Ryan took the stage, he bellowed “You’d better start forming a pit, because there’s no way you’re gonna be able to dance to this shit!” He wasn’t lying—the time changes are so abrupt, the meters are so odd, the breaks are so unpredictable, and the styles are all so seamlessly wound together that anybody who’s never heard the songs doesn’t have an alcoholic’s chance in a brewery of figuring out what’s coming next. Apparently most of the crowd had shown up for the previous four bands, because the crowd was startlingly thin by the time Cattle Decapitation began their set—the rest must have been called back by lengthy commutes and Tuesday morning responsibilities. Out of those who did stay, not too many people seemed to be familiar with the band’s music, outside of three or four diehards who belted Ryan’s lyrics back to him at the edge of the stage. No matter. Ryan has a distinctive delivery and excellent vocal chops, and he was as impressive in person as he is in the studio. He used every register of his vocal range, from pissed-off death growl to blood-curdling scream to subhuman grunts and gurgles that lent credence to the band’s basic message that we humans are not as advanced as we think we are. Those of us (un)lucky enough to be in the very front had the dubious privilege of being sprayed with Ryan’s sweat and saliva—the man does quite a job of projectile spitting and purposely drooling on himself, I must say. Watching his antics, as well as the way that he visibly throws every ounce of his body into his powerful outbursts, is worth price of admission alone. It was also quite a treat to see guitarist Josh Elmore do what he does up close and personal. Whether blowing through batshit insane solos (especially “A Body Farm,” “The Product Alive,” and “The Ripe Beneath the Rind”), making horrifying industrial sounds, or engaging in some nifty off-kilter riffing and filling, it was awesome to witness a top-of-the-line guitarist who’s unafraid to think outside the death metal box. Drummer David McGraw was, as always, unbelievably precise, a veritable blastbeat, double-bass, and fill machine. The highlight of the set was no doubt the performance of the deliciously schizophrenic “The Ripe Beneath the Rind;” it’s a time signature-bending, fretboard-defying, voice-shredding, tending-stretching, angular, grind blast with not a single moment to rest, and it’s definitely one that I would of thought was too difficult to pull off live. The fact that the veterans ripped through it a cut above the album tempo is a testament to how good they are and how well they play together. Just because it’s metal doesn’t mean it isn’t chamber music! Although most songs were from “The Harvest Floor,” the band also went as far back as 2002’s “To Serve Man,” and “Total Gore?” and the title track made an appearance off 2006’s “Karma. Bloody. Karma.” Yet Ryan dedicated the last song, “Into the Public Bath,” to all of New York city: if you read the lyrics, it’s not a flattering dedication. After playing one of the craziest (and sickest) tracks off “The Harvest Floor,” the band called it a night. Some lingered next to the stage, and others stalked around the merch tables, but the majority of the metal faithful trickled back into the city outside until the next show.
Fortunately, it appears that fans will be able to expect a new Cattle Decapitation album some time in 2011, which means that they’ll be out promoting it on some of the summer tour packages such as Summer Slaughter. It’s definitely worth catching this band, which has finally starting hitting its stride in the past few years. Hopefully there’s more great stuff to come from this adventurous outfit. I’d also say that the California Blood Tour was quite a successful package – with a mixture of old and new, it has the potential to unite different fans and to share the misanthropic love that is death metal. - The Metal Register

No more than a few years ago, all anyone had heard about Cattle Decapitation was that they were a bunch of rabid vegan goregrinders with a penchant for liberating livestock and killing babies. Yet with the benefit of increased media exposure, and as the band evolved from their primitive, cacophonous grind incarnation to the complex technical deathgrind act of today, people gradually found out the facts behind the myths: while the band is composed of vegetarians, they have never shoved their message down anyone’s throats, they have never sabotaged a livestock farm, have never dumped animal blood on women and fur coats, and if they kill babies, they’ve gotten pretty damn good at hiding it. In any case, such sensational distractions have obscured an important fact: Cattle Decapitation is one of the foremost envelope-pushers in contemporary death metal, and they do so without letting go of any of the violence and ugliness that death metal fans know and love. For this reason, I, Patrick O’Donnell, lifelong omnivore, went to see Cattle Decapitation’s headlining set on the New York City stop of the California Blood Tour. In support were three young up-and-comers: Santa Cruz-based Son of Aurelius, San Diego’s Burning the Masses, and Phoenix’s Knights of the Abyss. To sweeten the deal, brutal death metal legends Devourment were playing on their first full-length US tour since the band’s inception in 1995. I arrived at the Chinatown venue early, where I spent some time checking out the bands’ gear, watching sound checks, interviewing Son of Aurelius, Knights of the Abyss, and Cattle Decapitation, and chatting a bit with members of Devourment on the side.
Unfortunately, it being a Monday night, there had to be fewer than 70 people in attendance by the time Son of Aurelius hit the stage for their opening slot. Luckily, this didn’t have any effect on the band’s energy level, and they tore through a set of blisteringly technical and rhythmically unpredictable songs from their recently-released album “The Farthest Reaches.” It was clear that the five-piece couldn’t care less about how many people were on the floor. Lead axeman Cary Geare and touring guitarist Israel Betancourt dashed off a series of heavy riffs and dazzling solos, and drummer Spencer Edwards donned headphones in order to hear a click-track which guided the band through the myriad meter and tempo changes scattered throughout their songs. Their aggressive and melodic style of technical death metal was an exercise in precision, and the young band more than proved that they had the chops to hang with the rest of the bill.
As I turned my attention from the players to the crowd, I noticed a distinctly unpleasant element showing up during Son of Aurelius’ set. I’ll give you a hint: what’s more annoying than a hipster, an MMA fighter, or a hardcore kid when considered by themselves? Well, what happens when you roll on those annoying folks into one? You guessed it: a deathcore kid. Straight-brimmed New Era-hat-wearin’, wife-beater-and-flannel sportin’, skinny-jeans flashin’, massive-earplug displayin’ deathcore kids. Now, like anyone should know, clothes don’t make the person. You can wear whatever you want and still probably be a cool dude, and I’d even venture (although I’m less sure of this) that you can listen to deathcore and not be a douchebag. The problem is that the only people in the room who were self-consciously strutting, sizing each other up, homoerotically touching each other, getting in each other’s faces, and flexing their sinewy-ass excuse for muscles (damn, why are deathcore kids always so skinny?) were the aforementioned kids, in all their sartorial splendor. As a result, upon moving my eyes from the crowd back to the stage, I decided that I had a pretty good idea of what Burning the Masses were all about. As it turns out, the San Diego-based band plays a straightforward. but impressive. brand of technical death metal heavily influenced by deathcore. Indeed, comparisons to Beneath the Massacre and The Faceless wouldn’t be too far off. Yet Burning the Masses relies less on unpredictable tempo changes and more on straight-up instrumental pyrotechnics. In short, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t bang my bald head: it was loud, the guitarists shred through sweeps and pinch harmonics like crazy, vocalist Brian Kulikoff is a livewire with a good death grunt and low growl, and, the dirtiest secret of all, breakdowns do sound pretty cool live. Also, as with any band that straddles such a divide, the pit gets pretty entertaining. As I turned around, I saw a few tough-guy hardcore “dancers” (not “skankers,” whose self-appellation is beyond me), who decided to throw their limbs everywhere, putting the safety of just about everyone but themselves at risk, alongside some more orthodox moshers who barreled into one another at speeds that ensured mutual destruction.
Yet perhaps the wildest reception was reserved for deathcore-cum-melodic death metallers Knights of the Abyss, the best established of the younger bands on the tour. Vocalist Logan Cavanaugh (aka Harley Magnum) spent nearly all of the 7-song set at floor level in front of the increasingly populous and enthusiastic crowd. “I wanna see blood on this fucking floor!” he bellowed as Knights tore into “The House of Crimson Coin,” and he even started a small melee when he shoved a few of us around about halfway through the set. More than a few people knew every word, there were plenty of Knights of the Abyss t-shirts to be seen, and Cavanaugh could count on just about anyone within reach to belt out a line or two if he shoved the mic in their direction. While the band doesn’t go for technical wizardry as much as either Son of Aurelius or Burning the Masses, they have an accessible sound with broad appeal across the metalcore, deathcore, and death metal spectrum. Moreover, they’re working with an almost completely new lineup (besides founding guitarist Nick Florence) and thus have had a recent infusion of new life. Pair that appeal and energy with the tightness with which they perform their set, and I predict a good deal of success in this ambitious and relatively new band’s future.
And now, to quote Monty Python, for something completely different: Devourment. Holy hell. I hate the word “brutal” when it’s applied to music, since it has almost no descriptive value, it’s always applied to bands that are about as brutal as the Mickey Mouse Club, and it’s overused even when it does apply, to boot, but here I’ll make an exception. Devourment is brutal, brutal, brutal. They’re so brutal it hurts. Then again, what would you expect from a band that revolutionized a subgenre known as “brutal death metal?” Despite being “the” band to know in American underground death metal at least since their 1999 full-length debut “Molesting the Decapitated,” Devourment has never found enough support to conduct a full-length tour of the US. As a result, they’ve played a good deal in Canada and have even launched a few tours of metal-friendly Europe, but, for the most part, they’re rarely seen outside of their native Texas. Musically speaking, Devourment gets straight to the point: they clearly don’t give a flying fetus about being technical or artsy, and apparently they even think that pitch is for wusses. The band grinds out a series of filthy, chugging riffs which vary from fast to slow to slower to “slams,” which are basically the incestuous ugly mother of all breakdowns, all superimposed over clamorous blastbeats and cymbal crashes. In other words, it’s awesome. Mike Majewski’s disgustingly ultra-low vocals don’t enunciate so much as vomit, rendering any of the lyrics unintelligible… and thank God, too, because the lyrics to songs like “Postmortal Coprophagia” and “Babykiller” would make even your most inveterate sicko wince. A few minutes before the set started, I asked a several-beers-deep Majewski just how he gets his voice to do such unspeakable things. His answer: “It’s all outwards, man. I don’t do inwards. If you’re doing it and it hurts, keep doing it until it doesn’t hurt anymore.” Needless to say, I tried growling along with Devourment’s set, and by the time Cattle Decapitation rolled around, I could barely talk. Majewski, for his part, beer in one hand and mic in the other, endeared himself to the New York crowd by hurling taunts about how the Texas Rangers were going to beat the Yankees in the ALCS (he turned out to be right), talking about how drunk he was, making par-for-the-course misogynistic comments, and falling down on stage. Yet whatever differences existed between the Texans and the New Yorkers, they didn’t matter while the music was playing. As I had foreseen, almost all the deathcore kids had high-tailed it after Burning the Masses and Knights of the Abyss, and now things resembled a death metal show: despite the relative thinness of the crowd, during the grind and slam of gems such as “Serial Cocksucker” and “Choking on Bile,” the overweight, the ugly (including yours truly), the leather-clad, the combat-booted, the chained, the dreaded, the Jesus-haired, and the conspicuously over-tattooed vigorously headbanged and smashed into one another in a celebration of good, not-so-clean fun. Bassist Captain Piss donned a horse’s head mask and wore it for a good deal of the set, and at one point Majewski exhorted the crowd to keep moshing, or else “Captain Horse Piss is gonna come back there and punch the shit out of all you motherfuckers.” Couldn’t have said it better myself. I can’t wait to catch these guys when they tour with Cannibal Corpse, Dying Fetus, and Vital Remains later this month.
Finally in the midst of theatrical red lights and smoke, Cattle Decapitation took the stage, kicking off with the frenetic, misanthropic, and anthemic “The Gardeners of Eden,” the opening track off their most recent “The Harvest Floor.” As vocalist and full-time madman Travis Ryan took the stage, he bellowed “You’d better start forming a pit, because there’s no way you’re gonna be able to dance to this shit!” He wasn’t lying—the time changes are so abrupt, the meters are so odd, the breaks are so unpredictable, and the styles are all so seamlessly wound together that anybody who’s never heard the songs doesn’t have an alcoholic’s chance in a brewery of figuring out what’s coming next. Apparently most of the crowd had shown up for the previous four bands, because the crowd was startlingly thin by the time Cattle Decapitation began their set—the rest must have been called back by lengthy commutes and Tuesday morning responsibilities. Out of those who did stay, not too many people seemed to be familiar with the band’s music, outside of three or four diehards who belted Ryan’s lyrics back to him at the edge of the stage. No matter. Ryan has a distinctive delivery and excellent vocal chops, and he was as impressive in person as he is in the studio. He used every register of his vocal range, from pissed-off death growl to blood-curdling scream to subhuman grunts and gurgles that lent credence to the band’s basic message that we humans are not as advanced as we think we are. Those of us (un)lucky enough to be in the very front had the dubious privilege of being sprayed with Ryan’s sweat and saliva—the man does quite a job of projectile spitting and purposely drooling on himself, I must say. Watching his antics, as well as the way that he visibly throws every ounce of his body into his powerful outbursts, is worth price of admission alone. It was also quite a treat to see guitarist Josh Elmore do what he does up close and personal. Whether blowing through batshit insane solos (especially “A Body Farm,” “The Product Alive,” and “The Ripe Beneath the Rind”), making horrifying industrial sounds, or engaging in some nifty off-kilter riffing and filling, it was awesome to witness a top-of-the-line guitarist who’s unafraid to think outside the death metal box. Drummer David McGraw was, as always, unbelievably precise, a veritable blastbeat, double-bass, and fill machine. The highlight of the set was no doubt the performance of the deliciously schizophrenic “The Ripe Beneath the Rind;” it’s a time signature-bending, fretboard-defying, voice-shredding, tending-stretching, angular, grind blast with not a single moment to rest, and it’s definitely one that I would of thought was too difficult to pull off live. The fact that the veterans ripped through it a cut above the album tempo is a testament to how good they are and how well they play together. Just because it’s metal doesn’t mean it isn’t chamber music! Although most songs were from “The Harvest Floor,” the band also went as far back as 2002’s “To Serve Man,” and “Total Gore?” and the title track made an appearance off 2006’s “Karma. Bloody. Karma.” Yet Ryan dedicated the last song, “Into the Public Bath,” to all of New York city: if you read the lyrics, it’s not a flattering dedication. After playing one of the craziest (and sickest) tracks off “The Harvest Floor,” the band called it a night. Some lingered next to the stage, and others stalked around the merch tables, but the majority of the metal faithful trickled back into the city outside until the next show.
Fortunately, it appears that fans will be able to expect a new Cattle Decapitation album some time in 2011, which means that they’ll be out promoting it on some of the summer tour packages such as Summer Slaughter. It’s definitely worth catching this band, which has finally starting hitting its stride in the past few years. Hopefully there’s more great stuff to come from this adventurous outfit. I’d also say that the California Blood Tour was quite a successful package – with a mixture of old and new, it has the potential to unite different fans and to share the misanthropic love that is death metal. - The Metal Register

No more than a few years ago, all anyone had heard about Cattle Decapitation was that they were a bunch of rabid vegan goregrinders with a penchant for liberating livestock and killing babies. Yet with the benefit of increased media exposure, and as the band evolved from their primitive, cacophonous grind incarnation to the complex technical deathgrind act of today, people gradually found out the facts behind the myths: while the band is composed of vegetarians, they have never shoved their message down anyone’s throats, they have never sabotaged a livestock farm, have never dumped animal blood on women and fur coats, and if they kill babies, they’ve gotten pretty damn good at hiding it. In any case, such sensational distractions have obscured an important fact: Cattle Decapitation is one of the foremost envelope-pushers in contemporary death metal, and they do so without letting go of any of the violence and ugliness that death metal fans know and love. For this reason, I, Patrick O’Donnell, lifelong omnivore, went to see Cattle Decapitation’s headlining set on the New York City stop of the California Blood Tour. In support were three young up-and-comers: Santa Cruz-based Son of Aurelius, San Diego’s Burning the Masses, and Phoenix’s Knights of the Abyss. To sweeten the deal, brutal death metal legends Devourment were playing on their first full-length US tour since the band’s inception in 1995. I arrived at the Chinatown venue early, where I spent some time checking out the bands’ gear, watching sound checks, interviewing Son of Aurelius, Knights of the Abyss, and Cattle Decapitation, and chatting a bit with members of Devourment on the side.
Unfortunately, it being a Monday night, there had to be fewer than 70 people in attendance by the time Son of Aurelius hit the stage for their opening slot. Luckily, this didn’t have any effect on the band’s energy level, and they tore through a set of blisteringly technical and rhythmically unpredictable songs from their recently-released album “The Farthest Reaches.” It was clear that the five-piece couldn’t care less about how many people were on the floor. Lead axeman Cary Geare and touring guitarist Israel Betancourt dashed off a series of heavy riffs and dazzling solos, and drummer Spencer Edwards donned headphones in order to hear a click-track which guided the band through the myriad meter and tempo changes scattered throughout their songs. Their aggressive and melodic style of technical death metal was an exercise in precision, and the young band more than proved that they had the chops to hang with the rest of the bill.
As I turned my attention from the players to the crowd, I noticed a distinctly unpleasant element showing up during Son of Aurelius’ set. I’ll give you a hint: what’s more annoying than a hipster, an MMA fighter, or a hardcore kid when considered by themselves? Well, what happens when you roll on those annoying folks into one? You guessed it: a deathcore kid. Straight-brimmed New Era-hat-wearin’, wife-beater-and-flannel sportin’, skinny-jeans flashin’, massive-earplug displayin’ deathcore kids. Now, like anyone should know, clothes don’t make the person. You can wear whatever you want and still probably be a cool dude, and I’d even venture (although I’m less sure of this) that you can listen to deathcore and not be a douchebag. The problem is that the only people in the room who were self-consciously strutting, sizing each other up, homoerotically touching each other, getting in each other’s faces, and flexing their sinewy-ass excuse for muscles (damn, why are deathcore kids always so skinny?) were the aforementioned kids, in all their sartorial splendor. As a result, upon moving my eyes from the crowd back to the stage, I decided that I had a pretty good idea of what Burning the Masses were all about. As it turns out, the San Diego-based band plays a straightforward. but impressive. brand of technical death metal heavily influenced by deathcore. Indeed, comparisons to Beneath the Massacre and The Faceless wouldn’t be too far off. Yet Burning the Masses relies less on unpredictable tempo changes and more on straight-up instrumental pyrotechnics. In short, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t bang my bald head: it was loud, the guitarists shred through sweeps and pinch harmonics like crazy, vocalist Brian Kulikoff is a livewire with a good death grunt and low growl, and, the dirtiest secret of all, breakdowns do sound pretty cool live. Also, as with any band that straddles such a divide, the pit gets pretty entertaining. As I turned around, I saw a few tough-guy hardcore “dancers” (not “skankers,” whose self-appellation is beyond me), who decided to throw their limbs everywhere, putting the safety of just about everyone but themselves at risk, alongside some more orthodox moshers who barreled into one another at speeds that ensured mutual destruction.
Yet perhaps the wildest reception was reserved for deathcore-cum-melodic death metallers Knights of the Abyss, the best established of the younger bands on the tour. Vocalist Logan Cavanaugh (aka Harley Magnum) spent nearly all of the 7-song set at floor level in front of the increasingly populous and enthusiastic crowd. “I wanna see blood on this fucking floor!” he bellowed as Knights tore into “The House of Crimson Coin,” and he even started a small melee when he shoved a few of us around about halfway through the set. More than a few people knew every word, there were plenty of Knights of the Abyss t-shirts to be seen, and Cavanaugh could count on just about anyone within reach to belt out a line or two if he shoved the mic in their direction. While the band doesn’t go for technical wizardry as much as either Son of Aurelius or Burning the Masses, they have an accessible sound with broad appeal across the metalcore, deathcore, and death metal spectrum. Moreover, they’re working with an almost completely new lineup (besides founding guitarist Nick Florence) and thus have had a recent infusion of new life. Pair that appeal and energy with the tightness with which they perform their set, and I predict a good deal of success in this ambitious and relatively new band’s future.
And now, to quote Monty Python, for something completely different: Devourment. Holy hell. I hate the word “brutal” when it’s applied to music, since it has almost no descriptive value, it’s always applied to bands that are about as brutal as the Mickey Mouse Club, and it’s overused even when it does apply, to boot, but here I’ll make an exception. Devourment is brutal, brutal, brutal. They’re so brutal it hurts. Then again, what would you expect from a band that revolutionized a subgenre known as “brutal death metal?” Despite being “the” band to know in American underground death metal at least since their 1999 full-length debut “Molesting the Decapitated,” Devourment has never found enough support to conduct a full-length tour of the US. As a result, they’ve played a good deal in Canada and have even launched a few tours of metal-friendly Europe, but, for the most part, they’re rarely seen outside of their native Texas. Musically speaking, Devourment gets straight to the point: they clearly don’t give a flying fetus about being technical or artsy, and apparently they even think that pitch is for wusses. The band grinds out a series of filthy, chugging riffs which vary from fast to slow to slower to “slams,” which are basically the incestuous ugly mother of all breakdowns, all superimposed over clamorous blastbeats and cymbal crashes. In other words, it’s awesome. Mike Majewski’s disgustingly ultra-low vocals don’t enunciate so much as vomit, rendering any of the lyrics unintelligible… and thank God, too, because the lyrics to songs like “Postmortal Coprophagia” and “Babykiller” would make even your most inveterate sicko wince. A few minutes before the set started, I asked a several-beers-deep Majewski just how he gets his voice to do such unspeakable things. His answer: “It’s all outwards, man. I don’t do inwards. If you’re doing it and it hurts, keep doing it until it doesn’t hurt anymore.” Needless to say, I tried growling along with Devourment’s set, and by the time Cattle Decapitation rolled around, I could barely talk. Majewski, for his part, beer in one hand and mic in the other, endeared himself to the New York crowd by hurling taunts about how the Texas Rangers were going to beat the Yankees in the ALCS (he turned out to be right), talking about how drunk he was, making par-for-the-course misogynistic comments, and falling down on stage. Yet whatever differences existed between the Texans and the New Yorkers, they didn’t matter while the music was playing. As I had foreseen, almost all the deathcore kids had high-tailed it after Burning the Masses and Knights of the Abyss, and now things resembled a death metal show: despite the relative thinness of the crowd, during the grind and slam of gems such as “Serial Cocksucker” and “Choking on Bile,” the overweight, the ugly (including yours truly), the leather-clad, the combat-booted, the chained, the dreaded, the Jesus-haired, and the conspicuously over-tattooed vigorously headbanged and smashed into one another in a celebration of good, not-so-clean fun. Bassist Captain Piss donned a horse’s head mask and wore it for a good deal of the set, and at one point Majewski exhorted the crowd to keep moshing, or else “Captain Horse Piss is gonna come back there and punch the shit out of all you motherfuckers.” Couldn’t have said it better myself. I can’t wait to catch these guys when they tour with Cannibal Corpse, Dying Fetus, and Vital Remains later this month.
Finally in the midst of theatrical red lights and smoke, Cattle Decapitation took the stage, kicking off with the frenetic, misanthropic, and anthemic “The Gardeners of Eden,” the opening track off their most recent “The Harvest Floor.” As vocalist and full-time madman Travis Ryan took the stage, he bellowed “You’d better start forming a pit, because there’s no way you’re gonna be able to dance to this shit!” He wasn’t lying—the time changes are so abrupt, the meters are so odd, the breaks are so unpredictable, and the styles are all so seamlessly wound together that anybody who’s never heard the songs doesn’t have an alcoholic’s chance in a brewery of figuring out what’s coming next. Apparently most of the crowd had shown up for the previous four bands, because the crowd was startlingly thin by the time Cattle Decapitation began their set—the rest must have been called back by lengthy commutes and Tuesday morning responsibilities. Out of those who did stay, not too many people seemed to be familiar with the band’s music, outside of three or four diehards who belted Ryan’s lyrics back to him at the edge of the stage. No matter. Ryan has a distinctive delivery and excellent vocal chops, and he was as impressive in person as he is in the studio. He used every register of his vocal range, from pissed-off death growl to blood-curdling scream to subhuman grunts and gurgles that lent credence to the band’s basic message that we humans are not as advanced as we think we are. Those of us (un)lucky enough to be in the very front had the dubious privilege of being sprayed with Ryan’s sweat and saliva—the man does quite a job of projectile spitting and purposely drooling on himself, I must say. Watching his antics, as well as the way that he visibly throws every ounce of his body into his powerful outbursts, is worth price of admission alone. It was also quite a treat to see guitarist Josh Elmore do what he does up close and personal. Whether blowing through batshit insane solos (especially “A Body Farm,” “The Product Alive,” and “The Ripe Beneath the Rind”), making horrifying industrial sounds, or engaging in some nifty off-kilter riffing and filling, it was awesome to witness a top-of-the-line guitarist who’s unafraid to think outside the death metal box. Drummer David McGraw was, as always, unbelievably precise, a veritable blastbeat, double-bass, and fill machine. The highlight of the set was no doubt the performance of the deliciously schizophrenic “The Ripe Beneath the Rind;” it’s a time signature-bending, fretboard-defying, voice-shredding, tending-stretching, angular, grind blast with not a single moment to rest, and it’s definitely one that I would of thought was too difficult to pull off live. The fact that the veterans ripped through it a cut above the album tempo is a testament to how good they are and how well they play together. Just because it’s metal doesn’t mean it isn’t chamber music! Although most songs were from “The Harvest Floor,” the band also went as far back as 2002’s “To Serve Man,” and “Total Gore?” and the title track made an appearance off 2006’s “Karma. Bloody. Karma.” Yet Ryan dedicated the last song, “Into the Public Bath,” to all of New York city: if you read the lyrics, it’s not a flattering dedication. After playing one of the craziest (and sickest) tracks off “The Harvest Floor,” the band called it a night. Some lingered next to the stage, and others stalked around the merch tables, but the majority of the metal faithful trickled back into the city outside until the next show.
Fortunately, it appears that fans will be able to expect a new Cattle Decapitation album some time in 2011, which means that they’ll be out promoting it on some of the summer tour packages such as Summer Slaughter. It’s definitely worth catching this band, which has finally starting hitting its stride in the past few years. Hopefully there’s more great stuff to come from this adventurous outfit. I’d also say that the California Blood Tour was quite a successful package – with a mixture of old and new, it has the potential to unite different fans and to share the misanthropic love that is death metal. - The Metal Register

No more than a few years ago, all anyone had heard about Cattle Decapitation was that they were a bunch of rabid vegan goregrinders with a penchant for liberating livestock and killing babies. Yet with the benefit of increased media exposure, and as the band evolved from their primitive, cacophonous grind incarnation to the complex technical deathgrind act of today, people gradually found out the facts behind the myths: while the band is composed of vegetarians, they have never shoved their message down anyone’s throats, they have never sabotaged a livestock farm, have never dumped animal blood on women and fur coats, and if they kill babies, they’ve gotten pretty damn good at hiding it. In any case, such sensational distractions have obscured an important fact: Cattle Decapitation is one of the foremost envelope-pushers in contemporary death metal, and they do so without letting go of any of the violence and ugliness that death metal fans know and love. For this reason, I, Patrick O’Donnell, lifelong omnivore, went to see Cattle Decapitation’s headlining set on the New York City stop of the California Blood Tour. In support were three young up-and-comers: Santa Cruz-based Son of Aurelius, San Diego’s Burning the Masses, and Phoenix’s Knights of the Abyss. To sweeten the deal, brutal death metal legends Devourment were playing on their first full-length US tour since the band’s inception in 1995. I arrived at the Chinatown venue early, where I spent some time checking out the bands’ gear, watching sound checks, interviewing Son of Aurelius, Knights of the Abyss, and Cattle Decapitation, and chatting a bit with members of Devourment on the side.
Unfortunately, it being a Monday night, there had to be fewer than 70 people in attendance by the time Son of Aurelius hit the stage for their opening slot. Luckily, this didn’t have any effect on the band’s energy level, and they tore through a set of blisteringly technical and rhythmically unpredictable songs from their recently-released album “The Farthest Reaches.” It was clear that the five-piece couldn’t care less about how many people were on the floor. Lead axeman Cary Geare and touring guitarist Israel Betancourt dashed off a series of heavy riffs and dazzling solos, and drummer Spencer Edwards donned headphones in order to hear a click-track which guided the band through the myriad meter and tempo changes scattered throughout their songs. Their aggressive and melodic style of technical death metal was an exercise in precision, and the young band more than proved that they had the chops to hang with the rest of the bill.
As I turned my attention from the players to the crowd, I noticed a distinctly unpleasant element showing up during Son of Aurelius’ set. I’ll give you a hint: what’s more annoying than a hipster, an MMA fighter, or a hardcore kid when considered by themselves? Well, what happens when you roll on those annoying folks into one? You guessed it: a deathcore kid. Straight-brimmed New Era-hat-wearin’, wife-beater-and-flannel sportin’, skinny-jeans flashin’, massive-earplug displayin’ deathcore kids. Now, like anyone should know, clothes don’t make the person. You can wear whatever you want and still probably be a cool dude, and I’d even venture (although I’m less sure of this) that you can listen to deathcore and not be a douchebag. The problem is that the only people in the room who were self-consciously strutting, sizing each other up, homoerotically touching each other, getting in each other’s faces, and flexing their sinewy-ass excuse for muscles (damn, why are deathcore kids always so skinny?) were the aforementioned kids, in all their sartorial splendor. As a result, upon moving my eyes from the crowd back to the stage, I decided that I had a pretty good idea of what Burning the Masses were all about. As it turns out, the San Diego-based band plays a straightforward. but impressive. brand of technical death metal heavily influenced by deathcore. Indeed, comparisons to Beneath the Massacre and The Faceless wouldn’t be too far off. Yet Burning the Masses relies less on unpredictable tempo changes and more on straight-up instrumental pyrotechnics. In short, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t bang my bald head: it was loud, the guitarists shred through sweeps and pinch harmonics like crazy, vocalist Brian Kulikoff is a livewire with a good death grunt and low growl, and, the dirtiest secret of all, breakdowns do sound pretty cool live. Also, as with any band that straddles such a divide, the pit gets pretty entertaining. As I turned around, I saw a few tough-guy hardcore “dancers” (not “skankers,” whose self-appellation is beyond me), who decided to throw their limbs everywhere, putting the safety of just about everyone but themselves at risk, alongside some more orthodox moshers who barreled into one another at speeds that ensured mutual destruction.
Yet perhaps the wildest reception was reserved for deathcore-cum-melodic death metallers Knights of the Abyss, the best established of the younger bands on the tour. Vocalist Logan Cavanaugh (aka Harley Magnum) spent nearly all of the 7-song set at floor level in front of the increasingly populous and enthusiastic crowd. “I wanna see blood on this fucking floor!” he bellowed as Knights tore into “The House of Crimson Coin,” and he even started a small melee when he shoved a few of us around about halfway through the set. More than a few people knew every word, there were plenty of Knights of the Abyss t-shirts to be seen, and Cavanaugh could count on just about anyone within reach to belt out a line or two if he shoved the mic in their direction. While the band doesn’t go for technical wizardry as much as either Son of Aurelius or Burning the Masses, they have an accessible sound with broad appeal across the metalcore, deathcore, and death metal spectrum. Moreover, they’re working with an almost completely new lineup (besides founding guitarist Nick Florence) and thus have had a recent infusion of new life. Pair that appeal and energy with the tightness with which they perform their set, and I predict a good deal of success in this ambitious and relatively new band’s future.
And now, to quote Monty Python, for something completely different: Devourment. Holy hell. I hate the word “brutal” when it’s applied to music, since it has almost no descriptive value, it’s always applied to bands that are about as brutal as the Mickey Mouse Club, and it’s overused even when it does apply, to boot, but here I’ll make an exception. Devourment is brutal, brutal, brutal. They’re so brutal it hurts. Then again, what would you expect from a band that revolutionized a subgenre known as “brutal death metal?” Despite being “the” band to know in American underground death metal at least since their 1999 full-length debut “Molesting the Decapitated,” Devourment has never found enough support to conduct a full-length tour of the US. As a result, they’ve played a good deal in Canada and have even launched a few tours of metal-friendly Europe, but, for the most part, they’re rarely seen outside of their native Texas. Musically speaking, Devourment gets straight to the point: they clearly don’t give a flying fetus about being technical or artsy, and apparently they even think that pitch is for wusses. The band grinds out a series of filthy, chugging riffs which vary from fast to slow to slower to “slams,” which are basically the incestuous ugly mother of all breakdowns, all superimposed over clamorous blastbeats and cymbal crashes. In other words, it’s awesome. Mike Majewski’s disgustingly ultra-low vocals don’t enunciate so much as vomit, rendering any of the lyrics unintelligible… and thank God, too, because the lyrics to songs like “Postmortal Coprophagia” and “Babykiller” would make even your most inveterate sicko wince. A few minutes before the set started, I asked a several-beers-deep Majewski just how he gets his voice to do such unspeakable things. His answer: “It’s all outwards, man. I don’t do inwards. If you’re doing it and it hurts, keep doing it until it doesn’t hurt anymore.” Needless to say, I tried growling along with Devourment’s set, and by the time Cattle Decapitation rolled around, I could barely talk. Majewski, for his part, beer in one hand and mic in the other, endeared himself to the New York crowd by hurling taunts about how the Texas Rangers were going to beat the Yankees in the ALCS (he turned out to be right), talking about how drunk he was, making par-for-the-course misogynistic comments, and falling down on stage. Yet whatever differences existed between the Texans and the New Yorkers, they didn’t matter while the music was playing. As I had foreseen, almost all the deathcore kids had high-tailed it after Burning the Masses and Knights of the Abyss, and now things resembled a death metal show: despite the relative thinness of the crowd, during the grind and slam of gems such as “Serial Cocksucker” and “Choking on Bile,” the overweight, the ugly (including yours truly), the leather-clad, the combat-booted, the chained, the dreaded, the Jesus-haired, and the conspicuously over-tattooed vigorously headbanged and smashed into one another in a celebration of good, not-so-clean fun. Bassist Captain Piss donned a horse’s head mask and wore it for a good deal of the set, and at one point Majewski exhorted the crowd to keep moshing, or else “Captain Horse Piss is gonna come back there and punch the shit out of all you motherfuckers.” Couldn’t have said it better myself. I can’t wait to catch these guys when they tour with Cannibal Corpse, Dying Fetus, and Vital Remains later this month.
Finally in the midst of theatrical red lights and smoke, Cattle Decapitation took the stage, kicking off with the frenetic, misanthropic, and anthemic “The Gardeners of Eden,” the opening track off their most recent “The Harvest Floor.” As vocalist and full-time madman Travis Ryan took the stage, he bellowed “You’d better start forming a pit, because there’s no way you’re gonna be able to dance to this shit!” He wasn’t lying—the time changes are so abrupt, the meters are so odd, the breaks are so unpredictable, and the styles are all so seamlessly wound together that anybody who’s never heard the songs doesn’t have an alcoholic’s chance in a brewery of figuring out what’s coming next. Apparently most of the crowd had shown up for the previous four bands, because the crowd was startlingly thin by the time Cattle Decapitation began their set—the rest must have been called back by lengthy commutes and Tuesday morning responsibilities. Out of those who did stay, not too many people seemed to be familiar with the band’s music, outside of three or four diehards who belted Ryan’s lyrics back to him at the edge of the stage. No matter. Ryan has a distinctive delivery and excellent vocal chops, and he was as impressive in person as he is in the studio. He used every register of his vocal range, from pissed-off death growl to blood-curdling scream to subhuman grunts and gurgles that lent credence to the band’s basic message that we humans are not as advanced as we think we are. Those of us (un)lucky enough to be in the very front had the dubious privilege of being sprayed with Ryan’s sweat and saliva—the man does quite a job of projectile spitting and purposely drooling on himself, I must say. Watching his antics, as well as the way that he visibly throws every ounce of his body into his powerful outbursts, is worth price of admission alone. It was also quite a treat to see guitarist Josh Elmore do what he does up close and personal. Whether blowing through batshit insane solos (especially “A Body Farm,” “The Product Alive,” and “The Ripe Beneath the Rind”), making horrifying industrial sounds, or engaging in some nifty off-kilter riffing and filling, it was awesome to witness a top-of-the-line guitarist who’s unafraid to think outside the death metal box. Drummer David McGraw was, as always, unbelievably precise, a veritable blastbeat, double-bass, and fill machine. The highlight of the set was no doubt the performance of the deliciously schizophrenic “The Ripe Beneath the Rind;” it’s a time signature-bending, fretboard-defying, voice-shredding, tending-stretching, angular, grind blast with not a single moment to rest, and it’s definitely one that I would of thought was too difficult to pull off live. The fact that the veterans ripped through it a cut above the album tempo is a testament to how good they are and how well they play together. Just because it’s metal doesn’t mean it isn’t chamber music! Although most songs were from “The Harvest Floor,” the band also went as far back as 2002’s “To Serve Man,” and “Total Gore?” and the title track made an appearance off 2006’s “Karma. Bloody. Karma.” Yet Ryan dedicated the last song, “Into the Public Bath,” to all of New York city: if you read the lyrics, it’s not a flattering dedication. After playing one of the craziest (and sickest) tracks off “The Harvest Floor,” the band called it a night. Some lingered next to the stage, and others stalked around the merch tables, but the majority of the metal faithful trickled back into the city outside until the next show.
Fortunately, it appears that fans will be able to expect a new Cattle Decapitation album some time in 2011, which means that they’ll be out promoting it on some of the summer tour packages such as Summer Slaughter. It’s definitely worth catching this band, which has finally starting hitting its stride in the past few years. Hopefully there’s more great stuff to come from this adventurous outfit. I’d also say that the California Blood Tour was quite a successful package – with a mixture of old and new, it has the potential to unite different fans and to share the misanthropic love that is death metal. - The Metal Register

Last Saturday I attended the California Blood Tour in San Francisco, featuring Son of Aurelius, Burning the Masses, Knights of the Abyss, Devourment, and Cattle Decapitation. I had mixed expectations of almost all the bands on the tour, but many of them ended up being proven wrong.

First up were Son of Aurelius (most of you probably know them by now, since we’ve done quite a few articles on them). They opened with a shreddy, breakdowny intro song that even incorporated power metal vocals, so I think a lot of the crowd were a little confused. But once the band started playing songs like “Myocardial Infarction” and “A Good Death”, the crowd warmed up to them, spawning some of the biggest pits of the first three bands. They definitely wowed me. Even though they had a different vocalist for this tour, he still performed admirably, and their mix was fantastic; both shredding solos and brutal breakdowns were perfectly audible. Great opening band for this tour.


Burning the Masses followed Son of Aurelius. I must say that I had very low expectations for this band after seeing them this summer on the “Over the Limit Tour”, on which they played almost entirely breakdown-filled songs interwoven with a little bit of shredding. But I was on the East Coast when I saw them, and Saturday’s show was on the West Coast. I’m pretty sure that BTM decided to update the material they played on the California Blood Tour, because there were very few breakdowns and only a couple that really annoyed me. Instead, Burning the Masses served up an excellent series of shreddy death metal pieces – not really deathcore – that I actually enjoyed. My expectations were far exceeded, and I now see that these guys really can be good.

After BTM came Knights of the Abyss, a band who had certainly endured a lot of this tour and who I also had relatively low opinions of. I didn’t really know much about KOTA, and I still don’t, but I pretty much expected them to be generic deathcore. I was again pleasantly surprised. They turned out to be pretty much metalcore without any singing. I never thought I’d say this, but I actually prefer metalcore to the hordes of shitty deathcore bands roaming around today. So while Knights of the Abyss didn’t wow me, they were pretty fun, and I didn’t dislike them at all. I do have to say that they ended their set very underwhelmingly, with a song that was essentially an entire breakdown. Meh. But overall, not too bad.

I swear an entire legion of gigantic bald guys came only to support Devourment. This was my first time seeing the band, and their first time in the Bay Area. Needless to say, it was a… life-defining experience. For those who haven’t been to Thee Parkside, it’s fucking tiny; crammed into a café-size pit while Devourment blasts out “Baby Killer” with way too many people, most of which were 2-3 times my size, is definitely not an everyday experience. Their mix was by far the grittiest of all the bands on the tour, blending Horse-Man’s massive bass drops with the sole guitarist’s gain-ridden breakdowns and frantic, chaotic blast beats. They made by far the craziest pits of the night. As you’ve probably noticed, I’m generally opposed to breakdowns, but with Devourment, there’s a kind of infectious and disgusting feeling that penetrates me to my core and made Devourment one of the night’s highlights.

After that, a lot of people cleared out, but there were still plenty left for headliners Cattle Decapitation. Unfortunately the band had some technical difficulties at the start: the kick drum was completely inaudible for a while and I think there were some issues with the samples. It didn’t help that a few of the crowd members were being obnoxiously drunk, taking pictures of literally everything and ranting about the Giants or complaining about Travis talking too much about the band’s history. Really? When the frontman of a band tells you that a song came off a 2001 release, do you have to say “Thanks for the history lesson?” I felt really bad for the band.
But despite technical difficulties and annoying audience members, Cattle Decap put on a great performance. They opened with “The Gardeners of Eden,” one of my personal favorites, and went straight into “A Body Farm” without a second to spare. In fact, the band played a LOT of material off “The Harvest Floor,” including the previous two mentioned, “The Ripe Beneath the Rind,” “Regret and the Grave,” and even the title track. They threw in old favorites as well – “I Eat Your Skin” was a highlight for me. And although they had issues with the samples at the beginning of the night, once said samples got fixed they were awesome. Travis Ryan threw in some truly amazing screams while the squeals of farm animals rang out in the background. Even with only one guitarist, everything was spot on.

So even the band that I had the lowest expectations for proved me wrong and managed to make me enjoy their music. And all the bands I expected to do well exceeded my expectations. For me, Cattle Decapitation were the best of everyone that night, but they were truly underappreciated by everyone else. Unfortunately, there aren’t any dates left on the tour, but I hope that everyone else who managed to see the California Blood Tour shares at least some of my sentiments.

-DM - MetalSucks

Son of Aurelius‘ The Farthest Reaches is an album that gets crazier as it goes along. It’s as though the music had rabies, and was getting progressively more and more dangerous by the minute. The first three songs (“Mercy for Today,” “Let Them Hate and Fear,” and the title track) are all catchy, epic, and executed to their most devastating effect. They wouldn’t seem out of place on a Black Dahlia Murder record, which is great, ’cause if more bands wrote songs as good as BDM’s, I’d be a much happier snarky blogger.

But then the fourth track, “Olympus is Forgotten,” comes along. There’s a gentle, soothing guitar and synths-as-strings intro. You might think that it’s just a brief respite from the killer-but-familiar melodeath songs you’ve been enjoying, but, really, it’s the overture for a whole new album. Because once the band kicks in on “Olympus is Forgotten,” The Farthest Reaches flies right off the fucking rails and shows its true colors as an album that is completely fucking fucknuts. And its fucknuttiness is what ensures its place as one of the strongest releases of the spring, and possibly the year.


The sharp edge, puzzle-pieced guitars, the nimble, limber, bass. the constantly-shifting drums; hail Satan, dude, THIS is the shit. The little jazzy break on “Facing the Gorgon” leads into some awesome dual guitar soloing, which suddenly explodes into a slam-your-friend’s-face-into-the-wall bridge; the way “Myocardial Infarction” slowly tightens its screws, like the not-so-gentle onset of anxiety; the schizophrenic structure of “Pandora’s Burden;” the FUCKING BASS on, well, pretty much the whole thing, but maybe especially at the start of “A Good Death” – that shit’ll make your balls rattle. The songs on The Farthest Reaches are, generally, pretty short – only album finale “The First, The Serpent” is over five minutes – and these creative flourishes make them play out like mini-prog masterpieces.

Of course, giving boners to tech heads isn’t the only thing that sets SOA apart from the pack. I’ve said it before and for good measure I’ll say it once more: you can be the shreddiest shredder on the face of the shreddin’ planet, but if you can’t write a decent song all you’ll get is a “No care ever” from anyone who masturbates less than ten times a day. New tech death bands are seemingly being formed on an hourly basis, but the vast majority of the time, those groups like to noodle more than a half-Italian/half-Asian chef. But Son of Aurelius have no such problem; they’re like the perfect mix of At the Gates and Necrophagist.

If anything, I wish Son of Aurelius allowed themselves to get even crazier. Do they have a Planetary Duality in there somewhere? I’d wager they do. The Farthest Reaches has been in my heavy rotation for weeks now, and I think these dudes have only just scratched the surface of their talents. - MetalSucks

Sound: After listening entirely through The Farthest Reaches, the debut album of the American metal band Son of Aurelius, three words were muttered from my mouth, “This is insane!” The sound of the album was meant to pound ears with complex riffs and intricate melodies. Every note is hit precisely and the guitarists bounce harmonies off each other like they can read each other’s mind. Cary Geare and Chase Fraser are very talented, and even add the mathcore feel by changing time signatures frequently. Drummer Spencer Edwards never lets the energy die, always adding pounding bass drums kept at an incredibly fast pace. And do not forget bassist Max Zigman, who gets mad props for adding his own fast grooves to the already complexified songs. The album is roughly 37 minutes long, with the only break of the intensity is in the song The Calm, which is ironically the calmest song on the album. The solos produced by Fraser and Geare consist of melodic bends fused with harmonious arpeggios and sweeps that capture their talent in a simple thirty second time frame. Not only do the solos show talent, but they fit the songs, and are not just thrown in for pure fun.

The music never bored me through the first listen, and even on the third and fourth listen through I am still awed by the songs. Every song features completely different melodies, and the riffs are always changing you can always expect another jaw dropping riff or melody right around the corner. Do not forget the mixing quality; which happens to be spot on, sounding nothing like usual debut albums. Sons of Aurelius has a group of talented musicians to back up their name, and expect them to become highly regarded public figures for their work on the sound quality and perfection of the sound on this album. // 10

Lyrics and Singing: The vocals on the album are done by Josh Miller, and he knows how to belt out the most intense screams and growls. The growls can be overdone at times, but they fit the intensity of the music the band was going for. The lyrics seem to be dealing with Greek mythology at times, due to titles such as “Facing the Gorgon,” and “Olympus is Forgotten” This album features growls and screams, and any metal fan will love the pure sound of vocalist Josh Miller. // 8

Impression: Overall, Son of Aurelius has produced a great debut album. Their future looks very promising and I as a metal fan am excited for what they will have in store next time. Any and every metal fan throughout the world should defiantly give this album, The Farthest Reaches, a listen through. For the metal guitarists, the guitarists are very talented and the leads and riffs on the album will be tough to master. For headbangers looking for some new music to completely pound through speakers, this album has quite the punch. Every metal fan should listen! // 9

- Sean Michael Gonzalez (c) 2010 - Ultimate-Guitar.Com

In this day and age it is crucial for a young band to get as much exposure as humanly possible. That’s why before I ever sit down and put pen to paper I like to cruise around the internet, so as to become a bit more familiar with the band I am reviewing. My belief is that back when the compact disc was the most prevalent form of commercial audio, the artwork presented with the disc was what gave the album and the band their image. Now in modern times, we have a delivery system that no longer warrants art being presented with the music. Some would say that pictures have fallen by the wayside, however I respectfully disagree. I feel that art has shifted away from the album and moved toward a band’s social media presence…Myspace, Facebook, Twitter and even an official website is really where a band captures new listeners. So you can imagine my shock when I sat down to review Son of Aurelius’ debut album The Farthest Reaches, and I couldn’t find the band online! Besides Myspace and a few others it’s like the internet has never heard of this band. So I ventured further down the rabbit hole and figured out why; this band has only been writing and recording since 2009!

Son of Aurelius certainly give the term “young band” a whole new meaning but one listen to their debut album will have you worshiping the ground they walk on. Following in the footsteps of bands such as The Faceless, Obscura and The Binary Code, these Santa Cruz metalheads spew progressive tech-death from every orifice of their bodies. From the very first second you press play this album wastes no time getting things started, a quick two second drum solo starts off what is about to become thirty-six minutes of pure genius. The guitar work is intricate, the drums are killer and the vocalist shifts from effortlessly from high pitched shrieks to low nightmarish growls. Vocalist Josh Miller has an excellent set of pipes that are very reminiscent of Trevor’s from The Black Dahlia Murder. Songs like “Let Them Hate and Fear” and “Pandora’s Burden” are prime cuts of proggy-tech meat. The solos are spectacular mixing devastatingly impressive technicality with heart rendering harmonies. One listen to the last minute of “Facing the Gogon” will be all the proof you ever need to never take this album out of your CD player again!

This band may be young but they sound like they have been together for years. The Farthest Reaches is a debut album that Son of Aurelius should be damn proud of! The song structure is great and every song offers something new, which in turn makes the whole album a complete joy to listen to. If you were to place bets on what bands will be taking over the metal world in five years, then bet big on Son of Aurelius. I can’t wait to hear more stuff from this band and I am even more excited at the thought of an Obscura, Faceless, Cynic, Binary Code, and Son of Aurelius tour! (Fingers Crossed) RIYL: The Faceless, The Black Dahlia Murder, Obscura
- thenewreview.net

Santa Cruz, CA natives Son of Aurelius are gearing up to head out with Cattle Decapitation, Devourment, Knights of The Abyss and Burning The Masses for the next month, kicking off in Tempe, AZ on September 29th, and coming to a halt in West Hollywood, CA on November 1st. See below for all upcoming tour dates.

Son of Aurelius is featured on the brand new, free Good Fight Music sampler, available at THIS LOCATION. No strings attached, so head on over to Amazon and download the music. But hurry, this is a limited time offer. Download link is above.

Tour Dates:

09/29 - Tempe, AZ @ The Clubhouse
09/30 - Albuquerque, NM @ Launchpad
10/04 - Forth Worth, TX @ Ridglea Theatre
10/05 - Tulsa, OK @ The Marque
10/06 - Little Rock, AR @ Downtown Music
10/07 - San Antonio, TX @ White Rabbit
10/08 - Metairie, LA @ The High Ground
10/09 - Tampa, FL @ Brass Mug
10/10 - Stuart, FL @ Cruisers
10/12 - Orlando, FL @ Back Booth
10/13 - Raleigh, NC @ Volume 11
10/14 - Spartanburg, SC @ Ground Zero
10/15 - Baltimore, MD @ Sonar
10/16 - Wilmington DE @ Mojo 13
10/17 - Patchogue, NY @ Karma
10/18 - New York, NY @ Santo's Party House
10/19 - Poughkeepsie, NY @ The Chance
10/20 - Buffalo, NY @ Club Paradise
10/21 - Cleveland, OH @ Peabody's
10/22 - Detroit, MI @ Harpo's
10/23 - Chicago, IL @ Reggie's Rock Club
10/24 - Omaha, NE @ Sokol Underground
10/25 - Denver, CO @ Marquis Theater
10/26 - Salt Lake City, UT @ In The Venue
10/27 - Boise, ID @ The Venue
10/28 - Seattle, WA @ Studio 7
10/29 - Portland, OR @ Satryicon
10/30 - San Francisco, CA @ Thee Parkside
10/31 - Las Vegas, NV @ The Farm
11/01 - Hasperia, CA @ The Seen
11/02 - West Hollywood, CA @ The Whisky

For more information, please visit: www.myspace.com/sonofaurelius. - PureGrainAudio

A few weeks ago, during an email exchange, my good bud Axl Rosenberg of MetalSucks linked me to SON OF AURELIUS's MySpace page. I was blown away by the technicality. This is awesome death metal. I didn't understand how a band of this much talent could go unsigned. Well, looks like I didn't have to wait long.

We recieved a press release yesterday stating that the band was signed to Good Fight Music, a new label started by the former presidents of Ferret Music, Carl Severson and Paul Conroy (who stepped down from Ferret, which is now owned by Warner Music). The band will be releasing their first official CD with the label in April. This should be really exciting, as I've really enjoyed the band's self-titled album. If you want more info on Good Fight Music, the full press release is after the jump…

A new entertainment powerhouse is getting ready to take the world by storm. Good Fight Entertainment, founded by industry veterans Paul Conroy and Carl Severson, have launched a new management company with a music and sports division, along with a new record label, Good Fight Music.

Pioneers in the hardcore and metal scenes, and former partners at Ferret Music, Warner Music and ChannelZERO, Conroy and Severson have proven track records for innovative thinking and unwavering tenacity. Their abundance of experience has taught them how to spot cutting edge talent and propel them into the spotlight. To obtain maximum visibility for its releases, Good Fight Entertainment's record label, Good Fight Music, has partnered with Sony's RED distribution, which distributed Ferret for six years before their merger with Warner's Independent Label Group. During that time, Conroy and Severson helped launch the careers of numerous hardcore and metal outfits, including Killswitch Engage, Every Time I Die, and From Autumn To Ashes, while taking the likes of In Flames, The Devil Wears Prada, Chimaira, Madball and more to previously unachieved levels of success.

"I and all at RED couldn't be more pleased to be back in business with Carl Severson and Paul Conroy and their new label, Good Fight,” says RED president Bob Morelli. “As we begin 2010 with all the challenges and opportunities that we will deal with, working with Carl and Paul gives us a better chance for success. They are on the cutting musical edge, whether it will be with their label, as managers, in touring or other entrepreneurial initiatives."

Of their new endeavor, Carl Severson states, "We've built a company that is in a unique position to rise to the challenges of the evolving music industry. We've been on the front lines as digital has become the medium of choice for music marketing and commerce and we've grown with it, embraced the opportunities it's presented. Paul, myself, our staff; we have the resolve to thrive in this climate. Good Fight Entertainment is the culmination of our experiences as artists, band members, managers, musicians and executives. We have the opportunity to work with people who believe in us as much as we believe in them. This is a very exciting time for us."

The first Good Fight Music releases, Cancer Bats’ Bears Mayors Scraps and Bones and Son of Aurelius’ The Farthest Reaches, are both scheduled to be unleashed April 13. Future releases from the already substantial Good Fight family of artists will include new albums by Rosaline, I Am Abomination, This or the Apocalypse, Conditions, Madball, and the newly reunited Disembodied.

“I'm very excited and honored to be a part of Good Fight,” says Madball frontman Freddy Cricien. “I've worked with Carl and Paul for some years now. I've developed a friendship there that goes beyond business. Some say friendship and business don't mix, in this case they are wrong. We are all very passionate about music and it will translate through this new vehicle, Good Fight Entertainment. It's the next chapter and Madball is glad to be a part of the movement.”

The music management division of Good Fight Entertainment boasts an already established roster of heavyweights, including August Burns Red, Behemoth, Between the Buried and Me, Bless the Fall, Cannibal Corpse, Children of Bodom, Chiodos, Every Time I Die, Holy Grail, Job For a Cowboy, among several others. The talent and eclecticism of their clientele is unparalleled in heavy music.

While music is an integral component of Good Fight’s global strategy, the company’s sports management division is already up and running. The company already represents BMX freelstyle rider Dakota Roche, who currently rides for Levis, Lotek and Cult Crew, and skateboarding legend, actor, and stuntman, Mike Vallely. The skateboarder has been a household name since getting sponsored by Powell Peralta in 1986 at the age of 16. The New Jersey native ushered in the street skating era as the east coast's first professional street skater and in 1989 pioneered the first ever symmetrical pro model skateboard deck. He has represented legendary skateboard brands Powell Peralta, World Industries and Black Label and currently represents Element Skateboards. His critically acclaimed television show DRIVE (on Fuel TV) has aired for three seasons and he has been featured in recent number one hit films, Paul Blart: Mall Cop and The Hangover, acting and doing stunts.

His hard rock band Revolution Mother also had a song in The Hangover soundtrack and has toured hard over the past four years doing the Warped Tour and playing and touring with such legendary bands as Social Distortion, Danzig and Bad Religion. His new band Mike Vallely / By The Sword just played their first show this past week.

“100 years from now, Mike Vallely will be viewed as one of skateboarding’s pioneers,” wrote Transworld Skateboarding Magazine. “He’ll be remembered as a burly, glue-footed, hella-pop artist. An ATV ruler, a poet and a fighter’s fighter. An iconoclast among icons.”

"I'm truly honored to be working with Good Fight Entertainment and to be a part of their new sports division,” says Vallely. “Through the years lot of people have meaninglessly thrown their hat into the ring in the world of action sports and wasted everyone's time. Good Fight enters the game with substance, integrity and true character. Action sports just got better."

"Working with Extreme Sports athletes is a natural extension of our management division." states Conroy. "Co-branding with sponsors and endorsement partners is a core focus of developing the business of our Music Management clients, which is also a driver in the business of Extreme Sports. Many of our music clients share a similar audience to Extreme Sports athletes, as well. While each business is clearly unique, we plan to create synergies between music and sports through co-branding, live events, and content-based online promotion. Carl and myself have spent many years learning about our core-audience. In the past, we've experimented with growing our art and business outside of our core-audience, which ultimately felt unnatural. Extreme Sports is a way for us to grow our business while actually super-serving our core audience. Working with our partner Rich Lisk on representing Extreme Sports athletes brings my career full circle, as Rich and I spent a great deal of time co-branding sports and music on a local-level in Philadelphia nearly 15 years ago. We are extremely fortunate to have Rich's expertise and relationships in the world of professional sports to help us launch this new initiative."

Joining Good Fight Entertainment's sports division is Rick Lisk. Rich Lisk’s unconventional and high-energy approach to marketing partnerships has created a loyal and superior product in addition to being bottom line conscience. Because Rich has worked his way up through the ranks of the industry, he is acutely aware of the demands and what it takes to get a job done. His success is organic without the big budget pocketbooks of some of the segments of the sports industry. All areas of professional sports from the local franchise to the major league have tapped his expertise in budgeting, management, brand identity and creativity. His reputation as an honest – bottom line driven executive is quickly rising and his influence in the industry continues.

Good Fight Entertainment will have a healthy online presence through an official site as well as sites on MySpace, Facebook, Twitter and other social networking outlets. Matt 'Portland' Hay and his company, Sons Of Nero, will be an important component to the entire company. “Portlands understanding of branding and his excellent talent is an asset not only to our label, but to our management clients, artists and athletes alike, and our touring properties,” Severson says.

In the future, Good Fight will aggressively pursue opportunities in Fan Clubs, TV and film, touring and more. Look for an exciting Festival tour announcement from Good Fight Entertainment in the coming weeks.

Good Fight Entertainment. Artists Worth Fighting For.
- Metal Injection LLC.