'The Myth of Meat' by Schloss Tegal [TROO16]

A few years have rolled by since I reviewed Schloss Tegal's awesome 'Black Static Transmission' in 1999 and now the winning combination of Richard Schneider and Mark Burch have released another great album. The pictures of bloodied chainsaws, racks of hanging carcases, butcher's knives and the accompanying references to human and religious cannibalism, various degrees of torture and a certain Ed Gein suggest that in the past decade Schloss Tegal have developed more than an unhealthy fascination with all things flesh. In fact you won't be surprised to hear that this is a gross understatement, with a form emphasis on the gross. The ambulance doors are thrust open and 'Death Car Display' arrives with a rhythmic whoosh of sound, waves of blackened ambience passing through your ears like the roar of adjacent traffic on a motorway. 'Cannibal Communion', an obvious dig at Nazarene theology, contains the sound of squawking geese and is like an inversion of the Last Supper. Instead of warm images about Jesus sharing out the bread and wine with his beloved disciples, however, this aggressive and menacing track contains twisted samples about human cannibalism and 'willing accomplices' who are more than happy to find themselves on the menu at a macabre banquet. 'Urban Funk Campaign (Feraliminal Lycanthopizer)', with it's looping 'I-don't-want-to-die' vocals, is a pummelling cacophony of massive beats that smash into your head like a wooden mallet on a chopping block. It's exhausting and incessant, several minutes of Industrial genius. Having worked as a butcher on no less than three occasions, I know instinctively that 'Panic Man' contains the unmistakable slamming of chiller doors, the rubbing down of wooden surfaces and the light buzz of a bonesaw. It's a soundtrack through which we find ourselves exposed to the working environment of those who wile away their days among blood-stained aprons, chucks of quivering fat and congealed sawdust. The next track, 'Custom Slaughtering', is full of noisy frequencies and measured bursts that loiter in the distance like a bad-tempered man with a cattle-prod in his hand. The rhythm increases and you get the impression that the slaughtering business is going very swimmingly indeed. 'The Long Pig' sounds like something that has been hanging on a hook for too long, but it's actually an old culinary reference for human flesh. Busier than the other tracks, the vocal samples are hemmed-in by an electronic tapping and a fluctuating tonal range. 'Mes' haf I Resh', which is dedicated to the late, great Jhon Balance (Coil), bubbles up from the depths of your consciousness like a wellsping of spilt claret. The strange tones are there again, but flanked by a metallic ringing and the sound of a passing carriage. The title - which means 'Black Book' in Kurdish - refers to the ancient Yezidi text that tells of the messianic appearence of Malek Taus. In the wake of this prophetic interlude, 'Butchermaster's Meal' steps in with a rumbling collection of lengthy drones that remind me a little of Chris Walton's work for TenHornedBeast. A meal fit for any purveyor of flesh and Mrs. Lovett and the customers of her infamous pie shop would have ... well ... loved it. 'Bind Torture Kill' - or 'BTK' as it is more affectionally known - has a fuzzy-headed, dreamy appeal and sounds like a crowd of maniacs speaking with their mouths full. The orgasmic gasps in the background, meanwhile, make the essential link between food consumption and sex. This is a very powerful album with some extremely vivid moments.

Schloss Tegal website: http://schlosstegal.com