Tsatthoggua - Official Website
We Are God |
Germany
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Review by Felix on June 18, 2024.
How many people have asked for a comeback of Tsatthoggua in the last 25 years? According to an empirical scientific study, there were just as many people who wanted to shove their head up their own arse and broke their neck in this process. In other words, probably nobody at all. But here they are, exactly with the old line-up, 26 years after the release of the second of two mediocre albums.
'Master Morality' is a bombarding entry and the first thing I realize is that the band still does not lack vehemence. But it is the second song called 'Vorwärts Vernichter' which gives a first stable indication about the quality of the comeback. I have heard the full-length a lot of times now, and thus the following statement is simply true: this is an amazingly great album! Tsatthoggua sound better than ever. They have grown up and present much more mature compositions than in the early days. Simultaneously, they have not lost one iota of their apocalyptic force. We Are God is as destructive as a crossfire of dozens of machine guns. For example, the already mentioned 'Vorwärts Vernichter' creeps up on you like a blind, yet dangerous reptile, but it turns out to be a massacre of Belphegorian dimension. By the way, the opener also dwells in this dimension, but Tsatthogguah can create differently arranged tunes as well. 'I Drive My Dogs (To Thule)' is the most unusual number of the album. It is not just its very cool and somewhat confusing title, by far not. Much better, the song starts with an oriental chant, obviously presented by a moronic old man. A fresh breeze sets in and clucking chicken add some sounds as well, before a profound, mighty guitar lines creates an inscrutable depth in a matter of seconds. The song gets going slowly, like an old steam locomotive puffing and groaning, before it takes up a more or less medium tempo. A veil of death lies over the track and even the fast and brutal part in its midst cannot make it disappear. With the return to the guitar line of the beginning, Tsatthogguah are coming to an end and I must say that I like every second of this partly brutal, partly melancholic and always ominous tune. The following tracks celebrate violent hailstorms again. They are full of hatred, merciless guitars and insane drumming, but they do not fully achieve the class of the excellent 'The Doom-Scrawl Of Taran-Ish'. It excels itself by a highly fascinating guitar line in the chorus. It gives the song an almost harmonic look, at least for a few seconds. If you want to check only a third of the album, I highly recommend to listen from 'Vorwärts Vernichter' till 'The Doom-Scrawl Of Tran-Ish'. Not because of the other songs suck in any way, but here the reanimated four-piece shows its full glory and variety. Some other titles come up just short, but don't worry, there's no lack of perversion, cynicism and destructive rage here. Tsatthogguah are still the ones they were in the last millennium, in other words a sick horde of bastards. They just have achieved a more competent condition.
'Gloria Extasia' fascinates with a brilliant beginning. The song does not completely fulfil its promise, but it opens the door to a hateful and mercilessly burning final third. The following auto-suggestion 'We Are God' marks the place where sharp guitars, unbeatable double bass and evocative vocals coalesce into an extremely great mid-tempo hell. The contrast is not long in coming. 'Pechmarie' starts like Marduk’s “Beast Of Prey” (“all I want, all I need…” and so on…), if we ignore the sick Rammstein whistling (remember “Engel”) before the final inferno breaks loose. All in all, I am not the biggest fan of some of the lyrics, but the music makes up for this and the production makes some other metal records sound like a collection of soulful chansons. Crystal clear, maximum pressure, transparent yet atmospheric – what more do you want? Enough said. Buy the album with the psychopathic yet somehow fantastic artwork and the following 42 minutes will be exciting. At least more exciting than the experiment described above of sticking your head up your own arse.
Rating: 8.6 out of 10
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