Review by Benjamin on June 11, 2024.

Metal as a genre is littered with the defunct careers of bands that, purely on the strength of their musical output, should have been considerably more commercially successful than they were, but for a variety of reasons never quite made it. Bands as diverse as Cave In, Warning, and Ved Buens Ende have all produced fantastic records that deserved a wider audience than they ever found, but due to internal disagreements, label politics, and even the prevailing trends at the time, they are destined to be considered cult figures, as opposed to classic bands. In addition, it took many of the more popular bands in the contemporary heavy music scene years or even decades of gradually building an audience, before they attained the revered status they hold today. It took Opeth five albums to break through to the mainstream that they have been ensconced in ever since Blackwater Park, and the likes of Clutch, Behemoth and Devin Townsend have all followed a similarly scenic route to their current elevated levels of success.

It’s easy to wonder if Acid Bath would’ve seen this kind of eventual transition to the metal mainstream, had their career not been prematurely ended by the sad and sudden death of bassist Audie Pitre in the car accident that also killed his parents. Although their wilfully off-kilter and somewhat scattershot sound weights the scales of judgement against them, the fact that they also foreshadowed both the stoner-doom sound that Down and Corrosion Of Conformity popularised only a matter of months after the release of When The Kite String Pops, but also the sludge sub-genre that has dominated underground heavy music in the 21st century, tips the scales back in their favour. Regardless of what the future might have brought for the band, the fact that we are left with only two full-length album releases is a cause for sorrow – there were undoubtedly more superb records left in a band that still resists the allure of the lucrative festival reformation circuit, and will presumably continue to do so.

For all of the attempts to put When The Kite Strong Pops into its historical context, what really counts is whether the music itself is any good, and nearly 3 decades on from its release, it is a startling and fascinating album. One of the most striking elements of the Acid Bath sound is just how sonically creepy it feels. Countless black and death metal bands aim to scare and terrify with their music and overall aesthetic, but very few actually achieve it. Indeed, in many respects, it is only the criminal activities of a relatively small number of black metal’s progenitors at the genesis of the second-wave that continue to lend black metal any sense of danger and transgression a quarter of a century on from the murder of Euronymous. Many of the other key figures (Abbath, ex- of Immortal, for example) have long since resigned themselves to embracing the sheer ridiculousness of heavy metal, and previously extreme musical forms have been embraced and assimilated across the heavy music spectrum. Acid Bath, on the other hand are frequently genuinely unsettling. In particular, the way in which spoken word samples and whispered vocal lines are just audible within a dense mix, but occasionally reveal themselves in a moment of space, before dipping back below the surface again provide glimpses of a true psychosis at the heart of the band’s sound, and a schizophrenic multiplicity of personalities on the part of the outstanding vocalist Dax Riggs.

The schizophrenia is also evident in the musical accompaniment to Riggs’ many voices. Opening track ‘The Blue’ emerges from a haze of background distortion, with the filthy, fuzzed-out bass of the late Pitre giving way to the kind of multi-tempo Sabbathian sludge that Down would soon make a career out. Perhaps a result of their immersion in the swampy sounds of Louisiana, where Dixie jazz and delta blues share musical space with fertile hardcore and doom scenes, the drums of Jimmy Kyle really swing. As influential as Black Sabbath have clearly been to heavy metal as a genre in terms of their riffing style, it’s noticeable that frequently the influence is confined to the guitars. The smaller number of bands that really invoke the feel of Ozzy-era Sabbath (Sleep, for example) convey this through a drumming style that recalls Bill Ward’s heavy jazz-inflected swing, and Acid Bath are no exception. However, as soon as the opener comes to a conclusion, Acid Bath immediately wrongfoot the listener that might be expecting an hour of Iommi tribute riffage, with the addictive and propulsive riff of ‘Tranquilized’. It’s not exactly ‘Angel Of Death’, but it represents one of several moments on the album on which the speed dial is raised far beyond the kind of crawl that might be in evidence on a more traditional doom record.

On other stand-out tracks, the band move seamlessly from monolithic stoner workouts to the dissolute and raging punk-metal of ‘Cheap Vodka’, and the more brutal, almost death metal, tremolo-picking of ‘Jezebel’, which pummels the listener musically, but also intrigues with Riggs’ spectral vocals adding a demonic dimension to the sound that more rudimentary growls would fail to add. Elsewhere, the sludge of ‘Dr. Seuss Is Dead’ feels like the band are wading through tar, evoking authentic terror in a way not unlike the disorientating sounds of Today Is The Day managed on Temple Of The Morning Star, and ‘God Machine’ adds some surprisingly deft twin guitar to a song that effortlessly switches between a head-bobbing stoner groove, and despairing slow-motion noise. Most intriguingly, ‘Cassie Eats Cockroaches’ sounds a little like a proto-Skipknot, utilising a thuggishly monstrous groove, in which the syncopated off-beat snare rhythm gives an unusual feel to an otherwise basic riff, overlaying static noises and disembodied voices that agitate the listener into final submission as the album draws to a close.

When The Kite String Pops, sporting chilling John Wayne Gacy artwork custom-designed to evade mainstream acceptance (not that this proved problematic for Marilyn Manson only 2 years later), was probably never destined to achieve the kind of break through that many bands would achieve over the next twenty years with a more streamlined, commercially acceptable take on the Acid Bath sound. That’s certainly no criticism of this endlessly captivating, and deceptively complex album though. Unusually, it offers both immediate thrills, but continues to reveal new facets on every listen, forcing the listener to return time and time again to this majestic masterpiece. Rarely do a band sound this fully-formed and cohesive on a debut, and given the ground covered by Acid Bath’s eclectic melange of styles, it is a minor miracle that it offers such a definitive statement of intent. When The Kite String Pops may never reach the audience that it deserves, but virtually everyone who hears it will be profoundly affected, and that is a more than respectable legacy for Acid Bath to leave.

Rating: 9 out of 10

Review by Mandeep Arora on May 5, 2024.

Abstractly speaking, if an album was to be a serial killer, this one would be it. You see, for more than an hour, it creeps behind you, shrouding your every step, leering at your presence, forever in possession of that blood-stained knife and making subtle yet chilling remarks about gashing your throat open, all the while smirking menacingly... It's a heavy, intimidating feeling listening to this menace of an album - the opening song with its nasty bass creeping in on you is enough to give you the chills and make you realise these aren't going to be the easiest 69 minutes. Words like ugly, uncouth and nasty aren't nice in real life usage but super-worthy praises in the metal world and this album is every bit of those. And then some...

On my first-time listen, I had a pretty hard time coming to terms with this impious monster. It seemed so unhinged, sinister and creepy that I felt totally fagged out by the time it ended. I did not expect much from the sound since I'd never listened to the band before, but a good look at the album cover drawn by the infamous American serial killer John Gacy made me conjure up a rough idea already. The actual album was far more intimidating. The opening song The Blue leaves an indelible impression with its thick and groovy bass, almost molesting you with its nastiness and then the slow and heavy riffs are deployed to telling effect, meandering for a good while before opening into a vast expanse of faster riffs, angry vocals and tight drumming. It doesn't matter whether you like it or not, you aren't going to forget your first acquaintance with this song and the undeniable impact it has on you.

The other songs follow suit and seem pretty influential in their own right, drawing heavily from the aforementioned formula of slow and fast riffing but each one having its own distinct personality. You can hear the switch between sludge and doom metal styles primarily, convincingly and organically. But it's not confined to that and you also hear mild death metal influences. There are two ballads, much softer in comparison and totally at odds with the flock of mean, angry songs plaguing this album. Scream of the Butterfly especially is a beautiful one on account of its overtly acoustic overtures but packing some truly horrifying lyrics. Some of the slower sections sound sublime and they're interposed with the frenzied, fuming bits from the guitars, drums and raspy vocals; the cleaner vocals on top of the growling ones impart the album a certain chilling demeanour. The bass is thick, nasty and overpowering but appealingly so and the drumming's pretty tight and one of the high points, with a fair bit of double bass and a meeker form of blast beats in a few instances.

I have rambled well-enough about how this is a daunting album, not least because of its atmosphere but also because of the lyrics - profane, violent and straight up creepy. Some of them are pretty knotty and hard to decipher, kind of open to your interpretation while some are simpler in comparison and more obvious about their meaning. An excerpt from Finger Paintings of the Insane says the following:

"Come on and sterilize me
Kneel down and idolize me
Suck me
Fuck me
Resurrect me
Rut me
Cut me and infect me
Slice me
Dice me
I want to die screaming

The thoughts of dead babies
Wiped away with my semen

Bleed me
Feed me and inject me
Feel me
Kill me
Then dissect me"

I personally find this kind of stuff far more unsettling than death metal's stupid gory mania or black metal's constant and hilarious reverence of Satan. It doesn't help that nearly every song on this album has lyrics of a similar nature and makes my brain go hazy.

Now to its Achilles Heel: its length, or rather the number of songs in it. When I first saw it had 14 songs, I was kind of skeptical if it was a bit much and whether all 14 of them would engage consistently and thoroughly. They did not. Provided it was my first time, I gave it many more chances and multiple listens later, I can affirm the second half is boring and in stark contrast to the excellence of the first; tracks 1-7 are original and groundbreaking whereas tracks 8-14 are repetitive and unnecessary, with some being straight up filler. I'd still say Dope Fiend, The Bones of Baby Dolls and Casie Eats Cockroaches are mildly interesting but the rest is best avoided. These songs seem like quick rehashes of the first half's greatest tunes, albeit nowhere near as nicely executed and sounding generic in comparison. The last 30 or so minutes on the album, in my opinion, are unnecessary, underwhelming and unmemorable and that mars the listening experience for me.

If we cut the excess flab, there’s a truly fantastic album hidden somewhere in there. But sadly it can't be ignored there's a good amount of filler material that unnecessarily bloats the album and kind of drags it down. I prefer its sweeter lil' brother Paegan Terrorism Tactics as the better album by the band and whenever I do listen to When the Kite String Pops, I tend to skip the second half most of the times if not all the time. But that's just me. For a pioneering sludge metal sound in the mid-nineties when it wasn't as prevalent, this album takes some beating and indeed is the landmark of the genre. Love it or hate it, you are NOT going to forget your first-ever acquaintance with it, so strong and memorable is its mien, and for that, it deserves full marks.

Rating: 8 out of 10

Review by Allan on September 8, 2002.

Bands that transcend genre’s in their music is something that is quite popular in the metal scene today, and rightfully so. It’s certainly not a new thing, seeing as Acid Bath, along with others, was doing it in the early 90’s and far before. The difference between today’s bands that like to toss every influence under the sun into their music and Acid Bath is that where former fail, Acid Bath make the connection with manner and grace. “When The Kite String Pop’s” is Acid Bath’s first full-length contribution to music and it’s a very good beginning to their short career.

When we put all the sounds and influences of Acid Bath into one convenient tag, it becomes known as what many people call ‘Louisiana Swamp Metal’. They’re about as thick as the southern end’s humid air and almost as welcoming. Building that atmosphere are their references: early doom metal ala Black Sabbath, Rock & Roll, death metal, and other various outputs.

When Acid Bath finally starts to rev the engine of their fine craft, you will witness one monstrous album of monolithic proportions. The way they achieve this is by a little thing that I like to call ‘variety’. Acid Bath can and will perform those intense rides that hammer against your skull, but they’re all aware that a break from the intensity is being called for. They don’t have any doubts about grabbing an acoustic guitar, taking their distortion down a level, or changing the tempo. Those tempo changes are a necessity for making the songs appealing, and it’s no surprise that the band nails those swift transitions with ease. Not just transitions of tempo though - they do everything well. From sludgy riffs into mood enhancing cleanness, Dax Rigg’s howls to his singing that sounds as calm as a prayer, and from each song into the next. Yet even with all the different motions that Acid Bath go through, they still make way so that with every note you can feel that emotion of each member. Acid Bath have taken all of the important things about music and taken them to new heights, and personalized them in the form of “When the Kite String Pops”.

If you didn’t get the indication that each of the members are important in Acid Bath yet, then know now that they are. Let me explain. Every member’s presence is felt here strongly, but nobody takes more than their fair share. So when Audie Pitre churns out those bass lines at full force in front of everyone else, it’s not because he wants to impress you. It’s because that’s what the song needs. And when Jimmy Kyle beats you with his precision drumming, he isn’t worried if you think he doesn’t use enough of his double bass drum. His ideas are more than fantastic for everybody and everything. Guitarists Sammy Duet and Mike Sanchez work together section after section, not trying to out due each other, but to just do the best that they can. And Dax Riggs, the member who arguably owns the larges share in the bands stock, makes all those loose ends come together at the end. When you put these five into the same room they will always continue to blossom.

Bottom Line: Even though “When the Kite String Pops” is very good it’s not as awesome as the follow up, “Pagan Terrorism Tactics”. This is still a worthy album to be in your collection.

Categorical Rating Breakdown

Musicianship: 8
Atmosphere: 7
Production: 7
Originality: 8
Overall: 7

Rating: 7.4 out of 10

Review by Chris Pratl on December 2, 2017.

Immolation's Kingdom of Conspiracy, allows me, once again, to tap into my more sadistic and brutal side (as if I need an excuse). This band has never issued a clunker in more than 20-years going, and that sickening line continues here in just over 40-minutes of truly terrific death metal, New York style. 

There's just a very strong 'typicality' to that New York death metal sound, and Immolation has it in every conceivable area, which is a thick, almost Swedish sound that differs mainly in the clean and crisp production the Americans so covet. With Kingdom of Conspiracy the band adds another winning notch to their already battered and hole-punched belt. That same thick sound is what keeps the fan base angrily pumping clenched fists and permanently affixing scowled faces all across the planet. 

What sets Immolation apart from most other U.S. death metal bands is that underlying 'evil' tone to every album. Sure, there's a certain malevolence to every DM album and band; it's almost obligatory, really, but Immolation's tonal disease seems to be so natural and consuming that it just sets them apart from their contemporaries. This is very much your father's Immolation, with riffs so potent and tempestuous they could dent rusty steel girders. The opener “Kingdom of Conspiracy” peels skin from your forearms like random pieces of wax paper, slowing ever momentarily to shock the system and fool the minions of fringe design with solid, groovier guitar lines. It's the perfect start to a record, and as with every Immolation record the overall heaviness is second-to-none. I've always described the band's music as an avalanche of rocks just tumbling from a reef at breakneck speeds and decimating everything in sight. There is a certain pace to this record that seems a bit faster and riff-heavy, and that makes for a very happy audience because we've come to expect this sound from Immolation, and deviating from it would be catastrophic and out of line with the band's style. However, the 'slower' areas of the album are certainly welcome and expertly handled throughout, especially in “The Great Sleep”, which causes the head-bobbing to repeat for the entire five-minute-plus duration. Call it a nice break in the day, if you will. 

The signature sound of total wanton ugliness emits from every track on this record. “Bound to Order” and “God Complex” find the famous formula and filter it through the amps with pinpoint expertise, defining just what makes sickening heavy metal music. I particularly like the time changes and smooth shifting in “God Complex”, which is one of the endearing traits of the band. Rather than simmering in some self-made rut of familiar chords, Robert Vigna and Bill Taylor take great pains to create some truly sadistic-sounding riffs for you and I to consume, and that's not an easy undertaking after all of these years where everything has been done to virtual death. When you're recovering from that little slab of scaled intensity, “Echoes of Despair” rummages around and bounces off the cranium walls with all of the trepidation of a stable of spooked wild horses. Never to be outdone, Ross Dolan growls and finger picks his way through one brutal track after another. Steve Shalaty still offers a drum-fueled eulogy fit for fight, and I especially favor “Indoctrinate” with its speedy and concise pattern that goes from 10 to 90 in mere milliseconds. We're fortunate to be able to claim these guys as our homegrown masters of the genre. Immolation provides, without fail, a sound so agonizingly volatile that only total and complete submission will suffice. 

Without going on any additional long-winded, analogy-filled sentences, if you love Immolation, you most certainly will find the newest offering a maniacal piece of festering filth. This band is one of the last death metal legends that has yet to commit one single faux paus in its storied lineage, and for that I'm ecstatic and appreciative. 

The band is currently on tour in the States; get out there and see them!

Rating: 9 out of 10

(Originally written for www.metalpsalter.com)

Review by Chris Pratl on November 26, 2021.

Very rarely does a band in this era come along and batter my senses to the point of a mushy-mass impotency. For any black metal band to garner this much favor in my eyes is a rarity of high order; there simply isn’t enough originality or style today to break the confines of my little chasm of old-school blackened music. But once in a half-moon a band emerges and clears the murky waters and reclaims your faith in some things new. Thulcandra is that band, especially evident on the sophomore release, Under A Frozen Sun, which is nothing short of magical.

After the brilliance that was last year’s Fallen Angel’s Dominion it was tough to figure out where a band like Thulcandra could or would go or what else they can tap into that would remain vibrant and engaging. That befuddlement went wayside after 'In Blood And Fire' kicked in and decimated the sensory aura within a 30-foot radius. Vocalist/guitarist Steffen Kummerer once more channels the ancient specters of black metal’s glory years (anno 1991-94) and offers a myriad of damp, cold chords and vocals that set apart the current black metal officers from the lowly wannabe grunts. I once though the only band to truly rival Dissection’s primitive and ghoulish sound was Vinterland, but I’m once again happily proven wrong as Thulcandra has not only bested the sophomore jinx but eaten it alive and spit out the bones. There is simply nothing wrong with this record, period.

What songs like 'Ritual Of Sight', 'Gates Of Eden' or 'Echoing Voices' provide is a tempestuousness that lay deep within the recesses of the black metal fan’s jaded psyche. At one point even the most ardent fans of the movement found nothing even remotely credible with the recent rash of bumbling buffoons belittling the once-proud genre; one listen to an album of Under A Frozen Sun caliber and you quickly realize there’s hope for the true fan to find something tangible in a sea of half-wits and deplorable imposters. This album is exactly what "Storm Of Light’s Bane", "De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas" and "Welcome My Last Chapter" began so many years ago; keeping with the strong tradition Thulcandra calls upon such varied influences but refrains from outright thievery and collects your attention like souls to a cult. From the haunting ease of short acoustic passages to the empowering brilliance of freezing, atmospheric power chord undertows the record here is one of true passion, giving away nothing to trend or expectations past the band’s vision.

It’s not very often I offer such gushing praise simply because I’m hopeful enough to think that some bands with over-abundant talent should always try to stick to a winning design. That doesn’t mean the albums should run together as AC/DC has done for the last 30-years, but subtle changes and implementation of fringe influences are not a reason for total submission to a demographically-influenced change in style. That said Thulcandra takes a track like 'Echoing Voices (A Cold Breeze Of Death)' and manages to evenly level the line between ancient black metal and modern death metal to such an elevated point that you can’t help but believe the thinnest of margins can be achieved with some effort and incredible gifts. Steffen and company have it, and if you’re seeking a black/death metal effort that bleeds honesty and total reverence to the once-proud movement then do yourself a favor and pick this up at September’s end.

What better way to ring in winter’s arrival than to blast this album on your way through wintry landscapes and punishing cold?

Rating: 9 out of 10

(Originally written for MetalPsalter.com)