Premiere: The Unheralded Brutality of Depravity’s “The Great Divide”
Sometime last week, Transcending Obscurity label head Kunal messaged me to offer an opportunity to premiere a death metal track that he promised would “grab me by the ass and not leave it.” Now, as most of you know, I pretty much have no ass, so it was with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation that I pressed play on Kunal’s offering, the “pants-shittingly-heavy” fifth track from Depravity‘s forthcoming Evil Upheaval. Well, folks, let me be the first to set the record straight; this track is indeed ass-grabbingly heavy. In fact, not only do I no longer have an ass thanks to “The Great Divide,” but I actually have negative ass. The Australian quintet’s modern homage to the heaviest of heavy death metal kicked me in the ass so hard that my anal cavity retracted into my colon, and today, I’m pleased as hell to offer you a chance to achieve minus ass with this absurdly heavy exclusive premiere.
A word of forewarning: “The Great Divide” does not immediately blast into hyperdeath, ass-devouring territory. No, Depravity, the cheeky lads, understand the art of seduction and are content to woo you into a place of vulnerability. The track starts off right with some eerie, candlelit atmosphere and some heavy-bass-petting. It’s a little reminiscent of 80s thrash and death intro tracks, and even as vocalist Jamie Kay begins to serenade you with his best prolapsed-star growl, you’re still unafraid.
But then, at 1:23 into the romantic evening, a posterior-grinding blast cleaves the dinner table (and your gluteus) in twain. And from that point until the end of the song’s 6:15 run time, it’s all butt-punishment, all the time.
Sure, the riffs, choked out like a protracted jalapeno-bowel-movement by guitarists Cessford and Curly, morph and mutate, indulging nasty-ass harmonics, creeping layered atmospheres, and monolithic stop-and-start hammerings, but the effect remains the same. This is a butt-chopping, pure and simple. A butt-chopping that tosses every trick in the modern death metal book at your terrified sphincter, but a butt-chopping nonetheless. And don’t even get me started on drummer Rando’s unassailable blasts. You’ll find no reprieve from getting your ass handed to you there, nor will Kay’s slithering highs and lows grant you shelter.
Come April 30th, no butt will be safe.