METAL MONDAY: Hot Graves Are Your Knights In White Phosphorus

The d-beat has been a foundation for which greasy, crust covered bands to howl their atrocities from since it first crawled into the light of day (1980~ish). A hallmark of drunk fights, political angst and general shit-kickery, the honorable d-beat has fallen to the wayside as bands pursue 8 string chugs and masterful sweeps. Does anyone remember the days of drunken, rage fueled deathgrind? Hot Graves sure as fuck do.

“Knights In White Phosphorus” is the first putrid full length from these Gainesville, Florida hooligans. They bring a welcome breath of stale beer, dried blood and frenetic energy into what can be a fairly pretentious and silly metal scene. Subtlety is not a word in these boys rotation, unless you mean subtly beating your skull in with a bountiful helping of death, thrash, crust and shred. Then yeah, they’re pretty fuckin’ subtle.

The songs are as short and fast as they are violent, no technical wankery here, just vile and filthy shredding. It’s the kind of musical maelstrom that tears through your house, impregnates your wife, slaughters your dog and leaves your children hanging from the ceiling fan. I don’t remember the last time a metal album put such a wide grin on my face from pure fun alone. The music is simple, ignorant and aggressive, exactly what I want to bang my fucking head to.

And bang your fucking head you shall. Galloping streams of blood-thirsty riffs toss you straight into the waiting jaws of the flesh rending solos. Bringing to mind a band made up of rotting corpse, using instruments strung with human flesh. The demon band beckons forth the rest of their undead brethern to partake in the raping and pillage of this fertile land. They shred onward, the maggots lining their faces headbanging in unison.

Lyrically Hot Graves have sold themselves soul first to Satan. With tracks like “Worship the Goat”, “Kill for Satan” and “Rotted” you know your in for a corpse-raising good time. The pure evil that leaks from their lyrics lends itself well to the blackened vocals, dark, haunting howls that promise a gore filled and painful death. Never have I wanted to start a pit in my own living room with grandma as much as when I’m blasting this album.

This album makes me very happy, in a kind of bathing in entrails while feasting on the flesh of the innocent . With beers. Lots and lots of beers. So if what I’ve just been describing sounds like your idea of a Tuesday night then you should totally pick up this album for the $6.66 it’s up for. Praise Satan.

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