12 O'Clock Track: Antediluvian, "Force of Suns of Adversary" | Bleader

12 O'Clock Track: Antediluvian, "Force of Suns of Adversary"


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The cover of the new Antediluvian / Adversarial split
  • The cover of the new Antediluvian / Adversarial split
Because I am a metal nerd, I not only know that there's a subgenre of death metal called "primitive" or "bestial" (and probably eight or ten other names), but I also like it. You can tell you're listening to it if you get that feeling Sigourney Weaver had when she opened her refrigerator in Ghostbusters and the demon dog said "Zuul" at her: it sounds prehistoric, evil, and incomprehensible. It's often hard to tell if there are notes, or if everyone in the band is playing at the same speed. The intent seems to be to evoke monstrosity without suggesting a form specific enough to armor oneself against—the music is a kind of crawling chaos, to take the Lovecraftian route.

This subgenre is the territory of Canadian band Antediluvian. You probably remember their debut full-length, last year's Through the Cervix of Hawaah (Profound Lore). Oh, who am I kidding—odds are you've never heard of them, and I'm sure you couldn't care less. This is a perfectly healthy attitude for you to have. Anyway, Antediluvian put out their first full-length in November, and a handful of people who are almost certainly not you talked about it a lot.

Today's 12 O'Clock Track is "Force of Suns of Adversary" from Antediluvian's new split with countrymen Adversarial, which came out two weeks ago on Nuclear War Now. It's great music for making you want to smash everything you own into tiny pieces and walk away into the wilderness to eat a wild animal. Or be eaten by one.

This is not, I'm aware, a perfectly healthy attitude. But we all have to play the hand we're dealt, you know?

I especially like the bizarre spidery breakdown at 2:23, and how its prickly guitar part keeps going after the song erupts again. There's definitely a relationship between the tempo of the guitar and the tempo of the rest of the band, but it's barely perceptible. The overall impression is of a furiously stampeding mudslide of teeth and offal that's not quite contained by the hastily excavated trench with which the good townspeople hoped to divert it away from the Christian children's home.

This band also has one of the best unreadable logos I've ever seen.


Yep, that says "Antediluvian." Somehow.

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