Review by Nathan on September 9, 2023.

I appreciate that Weedeater at least has the taste (or lack of stamina) to refrain from writing particularly long songs, because it's far too easy for your songs to get tedious, especially when you're in stoner metal territory. However, just because the songs are shorter on Goliathan doesn't really make them any less tedious. They tend to stick to one or two ideas throughout the duration of a song, and their length doesn't help with the fact that it often seems like the riffs are a bit simple and underdeveloped. I realize the atmosphere is supposed to be minimal and straightforward, but even just a little variance in tempo ever now and then would help things out. They don't like to speed up or slow down once they establish a rhythmic base for the song. Are they just "in a groove, man"? I dunno.

The riffs aren't awful, but the heaviness of the melodies doesn't really match up with the guitar tone. They have a big low end, but the melodies are a bit too bouncy and bluesy and just kind of plod along without any real fury or grit. As a result, things just roll off your back and don't really stick around. There are a couple of moments with some slightly darker vibes, such as 'Reprise' but that song also suffers from that lack of length and development. Also, it's a very similar riff to the one on the title track. Even in working with a very limited palate of ideas, Weedeater seem content to repeat themselves a lot in a narrow timeframe.

I understand that their goal isn't to have riffs flying out at you every ten seconds, but Goliathan just feels so...familiar. It's not going to change your idea of what stoner metal sounds like. If anything, it's probably going to cement the stereotypes in your head that this stuff is generic and relies on two riffs per song. The vocals are the only thing remotely weird about the entire mix, and I'm not sure I'm sold on them either. They're unique, no doubt, and I guess you could say they fit with the music, but they kind of sound like a goblin who's a heavy smoker trying his hand at black metal vocals. They're harsh vocals that sound feeble and under-powered, and much like the music around them, they don't do a lot to really make an impact. Goliathan is just content to plod along, doing its thing, doesn't really care if you like it or not. If there's one thing I can give this album credit for, it's that it managed to create a very accurate auditory representation of a stereotypical stoner. This sounds bored, aimless, repetitive and comfortable. Whether that's a good thing or not is up to you, I guess.

There are two brief diversions from the usual M.O. of Weedeater on this album. 'Battered & Fried' is a jangly southern tune with some of the grimiest clean vocals I've heard in a long time. What the guy lacks in formal training or timbre, he makes up for in charisma, but the song still doesn't really go anywhere and feels six minutes long even though it's closer to half that length. 'Benaddiction' is a brief, spacey jam along the lines of Yob, and doesn't serve to do much else than close out the album. Neither of these two songs are completely bad, but they're not the super-creative curveballs you'd like, either. That's pretty much how I'd sum up the rest of this album, really. It's not egregiously offensive or anything, but I expect a lot more in terms of musical content and depth from a band that's signed to a bigger label, on their fifth album and have been playing together for almost 20 years. You're probably just better off using the money you were going to spend on Goliathan on weed and revisiting your old Electric Wizard and Orange Goblin albums instead.

Rating: 4.3 out of 10

Review by Nathan on September 9, 2023.

I appreciate that Weedeater at least has the taste (or lack of stamina) to refrain from writing particularly long songs, because it's far too easy for your songs to get tedious, especially when you're in stoner metal territory. However, just because the songs are shorter on Goliathan doesn't really make them any less tedious. They tend to stick to one or two ideas throughout the duration of a song, and their length doesn't help with the fact that it often seems like the riffs are a bit simple and underdeveloped. I realize the atmosphere is supposed to be minimal and straightforward, but even just a little variance in tempo ever now and then would help things out. They don't like to speed up or slow down once they establish a rhythmic base for the song. Are they just "in a groove, man"? I dunno.

The riffs aren't awful, but the heaviness of the melodies doesn't really match up with the guitar tone. They have a big low end, but the melodies are a bit too bouncy and bluesy and just kind of plod along without any real fury or grit. As a result, things just roll off your back and don't really stick around. There are a couple of moments with some slightly darker vibes, such as 'Reprise' but that song also suffers from that lack of length and development. Also, it's a very similar riff to the one on the title track. Even in working with a very limited palate of ideas, Weedeater seem content to repeat themselves a lot in a narrow timeframe.

I understand that their goal isn't to have riffs flying out at you every ten seconds, but Goliathan just feels so...familiar. It's not going to change your idea of what stoner metal sounds like. If anything, it's probably going to cement the stereotypes in your head that this stuff is generic and relies on two riffs per song. The vocals are the only thing remotely weird about the entire mix, and I'm not sure I'm sold on them either. They're unique, no doubt, and I guess you could say they fit with the music, but they kind of sound like a goblin who's a heavy smoker trying his hand at black metal vocals. They're harsh vocals that sound feeble and under-powered, and much like the music around them, they don't do a lot to really make an impact. Goliathan is just content to plod along, doing its thing, doesn't really care if you like it or not. If there's one thing I can give this album credit for, it's that it managed to create a very accurate auditory representation of a stereotypical stoner. This sounds bored, aimless, repetitive and comfortable. Whether that's a good thing or not is up to you, I guess.

There are two brief diversions from the usual M.O. of Weedeater on this album. 'Battered & Fried' is a jangly southern tune with some of the grimiest clean vocals I've heard in a long time. What the guy lacks in formal training or timbre, he makes up for in charisma, but the song still doesn't really go anywhere and feels six minutes long even though it's closer to half that length. 'Benaddiction' is a brief, spacey jam along the lines of Yob, and doesn't serve to do much else than close out the album. Neither of these two songs are completely bad, but they're not the super-creative curveballs you'd like, either. That's pretty much how I'd sum up the rest of this album, really. It's not egregiously offensive or anything, but I expect a lot more in terms of musical content and depth from a band that's signed to a bigger label, on their fifth album and have been playing together for almost 20 years. You're probably just better off using the money you were going to spend on Goliathan on weed and revisiting your old Electric Wizard and Orange Goblin albums instead.

Rating: 4.3 out of 10

Review by Dominik on November 11, 2024.

Impaled Nazarene’s single “Satanic Masowhore” is one of those rare releases that leaves you with more philosophical questions than answers—questions like, “When does music stop being music and become a violent assault on the human soul”? Had this single been dropped a century earlier, philosophers like Heidegger, Wittgenstein, and Russell might have been blasted into an entirely new realm of existential thought, or perhaps just sent into early retirement. But instead, here I am, trying to discern where “art” ends and “psychological cry for help” begins. But I digress. This is supposed to be a review, not a philosophical discourse, so let’s get to the heart of the matter.

When is art still art? I remember staring at Russian painter Malevich’s “Black Square,” trying to wrap my head around how a big black box on canvas qualifies as an artistic expression rather than evidence of a mental breakdown. The same question applies here: how much creative liberty can you grant before you recommend an artist seek professional help? But if Malevich could paint more squares—red, white, black—on various fabrics and call it art, then surely the musical blitz that is “Satanic Masowhore” deserves similar praise. From its delightfully disturbing cover art to the sonic madness within, this single is the perfect segue between “Tol Cormpt Norz Norz Norz…” and “Ugra Karma,” a bridge paved with the rubble of shattered eardrums and scorched brain cells. Which brings us to the next essential question.

When does loud become noise? A fair question, especially when your neighbors are pounding on the walls as the title track rips through your speakers and they start googling “noise complaint forms”. For Impaled Nazarene, that distinction is meaningless. Their genius lies in realizing that true recognition either comes through visuals no one really understands (see: Malevich) or through a carefully orchestrated aural explosion, just shy of vaporizing your speakers entirely. And, in true form, Side A of the single does exactly that, culminating in a literal nuclear explosion. At the same time making it painfully clear that Side B was going to need to take a different route—because their own remaining ideas just got vaporized. Hence, we’re treated to the cover “Conned Thru Life”, here in the version aptly named “Diabolic Penis Mix,” because, let’s face it, subtlety was never Impaled Nazarene's strong suit.

Which brings us to the next burning question: when does “funnily” stupid cross the line into just plain stupid? It’s a fine line, and Impaled Nazarene pirouettes on it, pants around their ankles. The title track features lyrics that would send a CNN ticker straight into a flatline of “beeeeeep”, meaning we’re firmly in the “plain stupid” category. But then there’s the cover of ENT’s “Conned Thru Life” on Side B. Despite the ridiculous “special mix”, this track actually teeters back towards “funnily stupid”. It’s a more serious affair, even when condensed into barely a minute. They say brevity is the soul of wit, and the song's creators, ENT, seemed determined to cram an entire philosophical treatise into 60 seconds of sonic carnage.

This leads us to perhaps the simplest question: when do 200 seconds feel like 300? That’s easy—when you’re listening to “Satanic Masowhore”. Despite its modest runtime (yeah, some British understatement at play here), the single feels “much” longer. The title track’s slow build toward utter annihilation feels deliberately drawn out (at least for 20 seconds or so), only to explode into some blasting madness and obliterate itself in a nuclear burst. And Side B, though fleeting, somehow stretches time itself, cramming a lifetime of drugs and booze into a singular blast of grindcore fury. The “Diabolic Penis Mix”? Well, your guess is as good as mine—perhaps Impaled Nazarene recorded it with their dicks hanging out for authenticity, or maybe it’s just a middle finger to anyone trying to make sense of it all.

So there you have it. If you’ve made it this far, congratulations: reading this review has probably taken roughly as long as listening to the entire single. And much like the single itself, you’re left both amused (I hope) and slightly disturbed (not my fault).

Rating: 9/10—because sometimes, you don’t need to understand art to know it’s brilliant.

Review by Dominik on November 11, 2024.

Impaled Nazarene’s single “Satanic Masowhore” is one of those rare releases that leaves you with more philosophical questions than answers—questions like, “When does music stop being music and become a violent assault on the human soul”? Had this single been dropped a century earlier, philosophers like Heidegger, Wittgenstein, and Russell might have been blasted into an entirely new realm of existential thought, or perhaps just sent into early retirement. But instead, here I am, trying to discern where “art” ends and “psychological cry for help” begins. But I digress. This is supposed to be a review, not a philosophical discourse, so let’s get to the heart of the matter.

When is art still art? I remember staring at Russian painter Malevich’s “Black Square,” trying to wrap my head around how a big black box on canvas qualifies as an artistic expression rather than evidence of a mental breakdown. The same question applies here: how much creative liberty can you grant before you recommend an artist seek professional help? But if Malevich could paint more squares—red, white, black—on various fabrics and call it art, then surely the musical blitz that is “Satanic Masowhore” deserves similar praise. From its delightfully disturbing cover art to the sonic madness within, this single is the perfect segue between “Tol Cormpt Norz Norz Norz…” and “Ugra Karma,” a bridge paved with the rubble of shattered eardrums and scorched brain cells. Which brings us to the next essential question.

When does loud become noise? A fair question, especially when your neighbors are pounding on the walls as the title track rips through your speakers and they start googling “noise complaint forms”. For Impaled Nazarene, that distinction is meaningless. Their genius lies in realizing that true recognition either comes through visuals no one really understands (see: Malevich) or through a carefully orchestrated aural explosion, just shy of vaporizing your speakers entirely. And, in true form, Side A of the single does exactly that, culminating in a literal nuclear explosion. At the same time making it painfully clear that Side B was going to need to take a different route—because their own remaining ideas just got vaporized. Hence, we’re treated to the cover “Conned Thru Life”, here in the version aptly named “Diabolic Penis Mix,” because, let’s face it, subtlety was never Impaled Nazarene's strong suit.

Which brings us to the next burning question: when does “funnily” stupid cross the line into just plain stupid? It’s a fine line, and Impaled Nazarene pirouettes on it, pants around their ankles. The title track features lyrics that would send a CNN ticker straight into a flatline of “beeeeeep”, meaning we’re firmly in the “plain stupid” category. But then there’s the cover of ENT’s “Conned Thru Life” on Side B. Despite the ridiculous “special mix”, this track actually teeters back towards “funnily stupid”. It’s a more serious affair, even when condensed into barely a minute. They say brevity is the soul of wit, and the song's creators, ENT, seemed determined to cram an entire philosophical treatise into 60 seconds of sonic carnage.

This leads us to perhaps the simplest question: when do 200 seconds feel like 300? That’s easy—when you’re listening to “Satanic Masowhore”. Despite its modest runtime (yeah, some British understatement at play here), the single feels “much” longer. The title track’s slow build toward utter annihilation feels deliberately drawn out (at least for 20 seconds or so), only to explode into some blasting madness and obliterate itself in a nuclear burst. And Side B, though fleeting, somehow stretches time itself, cramming a lifetime of drugs and booze into a singular blast of grindcore fury. The “Diabolic Penis Mix”? Well, your guess is as good as mine—perhaps Impaled Nazarene recorded it with their dicks hanging out for authenticity, or maybe it’s just a middle finger to anyone trying to make sense of it all.

So there you have it. If you’ve made it this far, congratulations: reading this review has probably taken roughly as long as listening to the entire single. And much like the single itself, you’re left both amused (I hope) and slightly disturbed (not my fault).

Rating: 9/10—because sometimes, you don’t need to understand art to know it’s brilliant.

Review by Felix on September 24, 2019.

When I started writing, I could not imagine reaching the 1.000 reviews mark. But as it became clear that it was possible to achieve this milestone, one thing was out of question: I had to honor myself with a very opulent output for this equally opulent number. So here is the bombastic, megalomaniac, exorbitantly gargantuan record that I proudly present: Satanic Masowhore (playtime: 200 seconds).

We know that Venom's early lyrics were full of strange women. They introduced "Countess Bathory" to the global metal scene, they were familiar with "Lady Lust" and they were always surrounded by "Women, Leather and Hell". But here the Finnish brigade of perverts strikes back in a merciless way. The fury of the Satanic Masowhore is on an equal footing with that of the lustful Lady and even some guys appear in the lyrics. The line "Necromayhemic gays, centuries ago they died" delivers an interesting information, doesn't it?

However, Impaled Nazarene aim for total chaos and destruction and this vinyl marks the border between music and noise. The title track begins more or less normally with some flattening, triumphant chords, but it does not take long until a fast rhythm supports the crude leads. The lead vocalist screams his strange lyrics with a deep voice. No solos, no frills, no gimmicks. The song almost ends before it has begun - and it ends, of course, with an explosion. Nevertheless, this can be classified as a song. The B side shows a less clear picture. Here we have absolutely crazy, unnaturally distorted and high-pitched vocals and the instrumentalists also present only total chaos; hyper-fast drumming and a sound cloud of guitars and bass. Yes, there is a basic structure, nevertheless, I am just listening to an overdose of noise. Somehow great noise, but noise.

Outputs like Satanic Masowhore offered pure nonconformity and made clear that the nineties could be interesting, even though thrash metal was in a comatose state. Everybody realized that there was still a lot of extreme music to discover. In 2018, the whore celebrated its 25th birthday. She is still a (somewhat strange) beauty and all I can say is: time flies. Even these 200 seconds have already passed by. And, allow me this self-reflection, I have written all these reviews instead of using my time in a more reasonable way. Maybe it's time to have a break.

Rating: 9 out of 10

Review by Felix on September 24, 2019.

When I started writing, I could not imagine reaching the 1.000 reviews mark. But as it became clear that it was possible to achieve this milestone, one thing was out of question: I had to honor myself with a very opulent output for this equally opulent number. So here is the bombastic, megalomaniac, exorbitantly gargantuan record that I proudly present: Satanic Masowhore (playtime: 200 seconds).

We know that Venom's early lyrics were full of strange women. They introduced "Countess Bathory" to the global metal scene, they were familiar with "Lady Lust" and they were always surrounded by "Women, Leather and Hell". But here the Finnish brigade of perverts strikes back in a merciless way. The fury of the Satanic Masowhore is on an equal footing with that of the lustful Lady and even some guys appear in the lyrics. The line "Necromayhemic gays, centuries ago they died" delivers an interesting information, doesn't it?

However, Impaled Nazarene aim for total chaos and destruction and this vinyl marks the border between music and noise. The title track begins more or less normally with some flattening, triumphant chords, but it does not take long until a fast rhythm supports the crude leads. The lead vocalist screams his strange lyrics with a deep voice. No solos, no frills, no gimmicks. The song almost ends before it has begun - and it ends, of course, with an explosion. Nevertheless, this can be classified as a song. The B side shows a less clear picture. Here we have absolutely crazy, unnaturally distorted and high-pitched vocals and the instrumentalists also present only total chaos; hyper-fast drumming and a sound cloud of guitars and bass. Yes, there is a basic structure, nevertheless, I am just listening to an overdose of noise. Somehow great noise, but noise.

Outputs like Satanic Masowhore offered pure nonconformity and made clear that the nineties could be interesting, even though thrash metal was in a comatose state. Everybody realized that there was still a lot of extreme music to discover. In 2018, the whore celebrated its 25th birthday. She is still a (somewhat strange) beauty and all I can say is: time flies. Even these 200 seconds have already passed by. And, allow me this self-reflection, I have written all these reviews instead of using my time in a more reasonable way. Maybe it's time to have a break.

Rating: 9 out of 10