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BIZARRE UPROAR  Rape Africa  CD   (Freak Animal)   14.98
Rape Africa IS CURRENTLY UNAVAILABLE FOR ORDER

��One of the more recent albums from this long running Finnish power electronics project, Rape Africa is an utterly nihilistic dose of blackened hatred from Bizarre Uproar that brings a new dimension to the murky, crushing noise of Finnish power electronics provocateur Pasi Markkula, and it's easily one of the heaviest slabs of sonic filth I've ever heard form this guy. Cut Hands, this ain't. As the sprawling noxious grime begins to ooze across the beginning of opener "Tornion Kev�t", the track begins to slowly shamble forward on misshapen legs, taking the form of an ultra-heavy bass dirge, a monstrously distorted doom-metal like riff that is caught in an endless repetitive loop, that grinding low-end crush enshrouded in massive levels of speakerbuzz and putrid amplifier rumble. This ten-minute long opener actually sounds a lot like some early Earth dronemetal jam, but it's also surrounded by a din of horrific screams and smears of charred black electronics that slowly seep in like some cancerous mass into the churning metallic dirge. One of the heaviest blasts of abject noise-hate I've ever heard from Bizarre Uproar, this eventually decomposes into a formless rumbling mass of diseased distorted noise. From there, Markkula drifts out into short untitled interludes of muffled mechanical noise and children's voices, reappearing on the other side with another long bout of ultra-mangled distorted noise ("Joukkohauta Pt.2 / Hate Your Face") that combines his snarling, almost bestial vocal assault with massive pounding metallic reverberations and screeching acrid feedback. That pounding percussive pandemonium thunders beneath a mountain of monstrous bass rumble and corrosive electronics, the saurian drumbeat that emerges in the background suddenly bringing an immense gravitation pull. The album drops into short passages of clanking tribal drumming and found-junk percussion that explode into more filthy, putrid crushing scrap-yard cacophony ("Silvottu Musta Vittu"), and closes with the foul juddering grind of "Raiskaa Afrikka", another long, drawn-out descent into total bass-heavy chaos, rumbling violent noise spreading out like black magma over Markkula's bestial screams, his terrifying vocals so vicious and unintelligible that they sound like they would be right at home on a death metal record. Absolutely crushing industrial evil, as violent and hateful and hellish as anything you'll hear from the likes of Demonologists or Crown of Bone. Comes in a plastic clamshell case with a full color sleeve.


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