SOUNDS OF THE TEXAS UNDERGROUND Vol. V:
Putrid Womb – “Slam Induced Priapism” album review
by Ryan A Vasquez
Just so I make it clear, the following album review is in a genre that not many people will understand. Not all metal-heads will fit under one umbrella, obviously, but this is one elite umbrella.
Those that feel the need to musically satisfy that urge to walk the streets of their town packing 25 lb. claw hammers in each hand and decimating absolutely everything in their path to the point of full sexual arousal, there’s a band from Rotten Music you should know about.
If you’re like me, you like to stare at the cover art and go through the booklet several times over (those with a hard copy) the whole time you listen to any album.
Before you even press play this time, you may be completely awe-stricken by this incredibly graphic, yet brilliantly designed piece of original art to interpret the album by the devilishly talented Rudi Gorgingsuicide Art Yanto of Gorgingsuicide ART.
Everything about this image is exactly how to describe the musical content and motivation behind the composition.
It’s a full grown Ogre-like being on a killing rampage, equipped with the largest claw hammers ever constructed, covered from head-to-toe with the most severe skin deterioration condition ever seen, yet exhibiting remarkable male reproductive blood flow. It’s a real masterpiece.
Once you’ve given the cover art your fullest examination, the “Intro” track will lead us off in what sounds like a full military strike. Like something out of Call Of Duty in a full engagement on the enemy.
My guess is the strike is against the Ogre who could not be taken down by any thing less than an army, if possible to be taken down.
On the other hand, it could be metaphorically perceived as the chaos that would be unleashed momentarily in a live situation with “Charley” having you completely surrounded in the GA area.
Track two would be the actual first song on the album titled “Broken Bottle Butt Plug,” and how hilarious, the opening five seconds is the audio of a male enhancement disclaimer advising to seek medical attention for erections lasting longer than four hours.
I would have to thank the band for immediately addressing the pink elephant in the room, or I should say the “elephant’s trunk” on the Ogre since we all had a good gander at it and now we can move on.
Once the riff kicked in, I instantly felt my knuckles drag on the ground, so I caveman-hoofed it to my tool bag to grab my hammer and made sure every room in my apartment knew I was the Alpha..even made a small fire.
We finally get to hear the vocalist after four bars into the opening riff, and talk about getting sick with it.
These deepened gutturals have a sickness level that sits between a public toilet in Hell and a congested dragon, which ultimately is a perfect fit to the character of their brand of grooving gore slams.
PW gives me the impression, so far, that I won’t find anything polished, harmonized, progressive, or overly triggered. And the more this vocalist leads us through the song, the more I’m feeding off their energy and hyped with enthusiasm for track two.
There are a couple moments in this track, though, where the drum track was not entirely in sync with the alignment of the entire track by what seems like a quarter of a second.
This may have been an editing issue on the recording software or done purposely to uphold the raw and gritty effect, because before I could second question the personal timing of drummer T.J. Mundy, his blast beats pattern written in the first groove of track two, “Mutilation Marathon,” were unmistakably on point.
Track three “Mutilation Marathon,” and the last song, “Sadistic Seduction,” is hopefully a sign of what direction the songs will continue to be written—it was the portion of the EP that had me screaming for more.
These songs are absolutely relentless, dishing the abuse as one cohesive unit of brutal Neanderthal terror back to back, track for track.
One of the best examples of the sickness in this EP was the transition between these two particular tracks, tying one elongated crazy guttural from the vocalist straight into the next intro, which is the audio of an abduction-homicide confession told by the perpetrator. Then death, by way of speakers.
I didn’t want this EP to end and it makes me sad it’s over already. If this was live, I would be that person screaming for “one more” a few more times over or until the stage manager is kicking them off.
It may have been only four tracks, but enough to give you a sense of what this band is about and how they deliver it—which is nothing short of “brutally.”
The final track toward the second half of the song we’re shown another facet to the vocalist’s talents with a brief period of pig squeals, and hopefully, we’ll be able to explore more of this on their next recorded project.
In a way, “Slam Induced Priapism” was probably meant to be a teaser of what this band can accomplish when four artists with similar imaginations and like-minded musical perspectives collaborate.
What ended up happening was the band underestimated how much mustard was applied and gave it a swing, only to see this EP was knocked right out of the park and became a major score for PW.
If they can make a fan from just four tracks of material and only three of which are actual songs, then they won big in my eyes. I highly recommend this album to all who appreciate brutal slamming death and a great drawing of a killer boner. This album is RoM approved.
[FOR MORE INFO ON SHOWS, MUSIC AND MERCH, VISIT PUTRID WOMB’S FACEBOOK PAGE HERE.]