{"id":70188,"date":"2017-08-21T13:00:11","date_gmt":"2017-08-21T18:00:11","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.toiletovhell.com\/?p=70188"},"modified":"2017-08-21T12:49:28","modified_gmt":"2017-08-21T17:49:28","slug":"splitsville-2017-howls-of-ebb-vs-khthoniik-cerviiks","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/toiletovhell.com\/splitsville-2017-howls-of-ebb-vs-khthoniik-cerviiks\/","title":{"rendered":"Splitsville 2017: Howls of Ebb VS. Khthoniik Cerviiks"},"content":{"rendered":"
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It’s a battle to out-weird the weirdest of the weird. To the victor go the spoils, and the Crown of Weirdest Weirdos in Weirdalusia.<\/p>\n

With Gangrenous Edges<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

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First to enter the ring is Howls of Ebb<\/strong>. I’ve been quite vocal about my love for this band. While so many other avant-minded death metal bands are busy nipping at the heels of Gorguts or Portal (not a bad thing), Howls is off on their own private beach in Hades, surfing on waves of blood, semen and\u00a0vaginal discharge. Does their contribution to this split keep my love afloat? Well, to be blunt, my first listen was a disappointing one. Even though splits often sound like they are composed of the remainders of proper albums pawned off to scrape up a few more pithy dollars, I was expecting a bit more from Howls of Ebb. Compared to the profane grandiosity of their previous releases, this one sounds a little undercooked. The production is more rickety than ever; the songs are peeled back to the basest of riffs, without the usual psychedelic trappings. It all sounds rather predictable (not a term I’d ever imagine associating with Howls of Ebb, but life is truly full of surprises). Basically, these songs sound like B-sides. But you know what? After several more listens, I realized that I’d still rather listen to a half-cocked Howls of Ebb B-side than most other music. Sure, there’s something missing here, but what Howls deigned to leave on the table is still a heck of a lot of fun. It’s not a knock-out performance; more like a couple of scab-ridden contortionists writhing on the floor in half-successful attempts to masticate their own genitals. So, uh . . . I guess just take this split with a grain of salt until their next haughty opus arrives.<\/p>\n