Review by Carl on November 10, 2024.

As a teen throughout the 90s, I was a loyal reader of the Dutch Aardschok magazine, and I seem to remember that when the country of Italy was mentioned, there was always this attitude that no good metal came from the country until Lacuna Coil came around. Excuse me? Agreed, Lucuna Coil has a stunningly beautiful vocalist in Christina Scabbia, but that's about all the good I can say about them. But no good metal in Italy up until then? Bulldozer anyone? What about Necrodeath and Schizo? Ever heard of Raw Power maybe? And if you're not picky, I'd mention Deathrage too. Well, their first album, that is, because this one fucking blows cocks in the park.

While their debut album certainly had its merits if you didn't mind a kinda limited vocalist, their second album is a decidedly lesser affair. Their thrash metal somewhat in the vein of the later Bay Area stuff is played adequately, with some good riffing and decent solos on offer, but in its totality, this album gets torpedoed to hell by a total lack of speed. Everything on here exhibits the same pace as a geriatric man getting on the bus, and this builds up absolutely no tension at all. The best way to describe this is like fucking with a limp dick, it's not going to go anywhere special, and everybody involved knows it. Perhaps the intention was to do something similar to what Exodus did on "Impact Is Imminent" or Prong on "Beg to Differ", but those albums had riffs, songs, and ideas. What Deathrage has on exhibit here is closer to a severe case of a bad night's sleep than anything musically interesting, showing all the joy and energy of a visit to an old folks home. Agreed, on the B side of the album the speed goes up a little, but that does also not help matters a whole lot. Tracks like "Perfect Crime" and "This One's for Our Friends" (I bet they'll be really pleased with it) sound like a depressed AC/DC struggling with a painful lack of inspiration, while the band resembles more a washed-up cock rock act than anything else.

This album did not only see a change of pace but also a change of vocalist. Where the vocals on the first album were not optimal but certainly passable in context, this new guy sounds as if he's putting in his order at the butcher's shop. I don't think I've ever heard a vocalist phone it in like this. What's he doing? Having a leisurely talk with one of his aunts? Come on, dude, you're singing on a thrash album! Not a very good one, admittedly, but at least pretend as if you give a damn. I wouldn't be surprised if this guy delivered his lines by yawning them into a microphone because this dude sounds as if he's about to get up and go home mid-recording.

Granted, Deathrage's debut album wasn't a full-on orgy of demented velocity, but that album at least combined midtempo stomping parts with enough speedy menace to come out swinging like Mike Tyson with an empty bank account, and that's something that is certainly lacking on their second album. In short, this is some of the lamest stuff I've ever heard. The overall playing is actually way above decent, but they do absolutely nothing with it. In its totality "Down in the Depth of Sickness" sounds as if someone force-fed Accept a couple of fistfuls of downers and then sent them out to perform a set of Megadeth covers, but only the slow ones.

Do yourself a favor and take the title of my review as buying advice for this album. Even if someone offers it for free.

Rating: 4 out of 10