Review by Norbert on February 6, 2026.

If you think a 30-year hiatus changes anything, Naked Whipper are here just to say "nein," spit on the floor, and start flogging. No explanations, no sentimentality, and no pretense that the world has become a better place. They appeared briefly in the mid-90s, returned last year, and apparently have kept the exact same level of pissed-off music in their basement the entire time, preserved alongside dampness, mold, and the German need to get things done.

This isn't a "nice to see you again" comeback. It's more like someone taking an old whip out of the box, checking if it still does the trick, and then feeling relief, discovering it works perfectly. Naked Whipper don't try to explain anything—they're simply continuing what they started thirty years ago, as if those three decades were just a cigarette break. The whole thing works like a brutally efficient desecration machine: sticky filth, a lack of subtlety, and the atmosphere of a chapel-turned-dive, where everything is permitted, and nothing is sacred.

At times, everything merges into one long stream of venom and saliva, which will delight some and tire others out faster than Sunday dinner at the in-laws'. But it's hard to blame – the band's name is a warning, not poetry. There are false moments of "breathing" that actually only presage the next kick, and there's that typically German consistency: even the wallowing in shit is done according to plan and stamped "Jawohl, approved."

For some, it will be the triumphant return of a cult, for others, the opening of a time capsule where, instead of treasure, someone left a rotten relic. But one thing is certain: Naked Whipper aren't asking for anyone's attention. They simply exist, they stink, and they have every right to be. Oh, and by the way: Naked Whipper is essentially a one-man operation by Alex Schulze, also known as Dominus A.S., who released two EPs and a full-length album between 1993 and 1995 before disappearing like a bloodstain after a botched exorcism. Three decades later, he returned with "Chapel Defilement" – a set of hymns praising Satanism, anti-Christianity, sadomasochism, and all manner of religious imagery, wrapped in sounds that teeter on the edge of black metal, death, and ground meat. The slag pours, the whip lashes, and somewhere in the background, a faint whisper can be heard: "Ordnung muss sein."

Even in hell.

Rating: 8.5 out of 10