The Philosophical Psycho

The human race seems to be fascinated with the macabre in way or another. The majority avoid it when they can but stare in rapt attention whenever they are forced to witness it. Unable to look away, revolted and yet so deeply enthralled. Then there are those of us that submit fully to the insatiable curiosity that we have and eventually become conditioned to accept the twisted and profane as common place. These two approaches were welded together and gave birth to horror junkies; people who worship the primitive violence that skulks within humanity and our boundless expressive potential in its name. What if people like that banded together with a common passion for death metal? That’s exactly what you get from Singapore’s Psycho and their full-length “Pain Addict Pigs.”

This album is seriously one hell of an adrenaline rush and in a very nostalgic way. Classic death metal with audible rumbling bass and solid drumming as it’s backbone. Vocals and guitars are at the forefront in a way that makes you want to perform the meanest upside-down air guitar soloing ever witnessed by your cat in the privacy of your roommate’s bedroom.

Why not your own bedroom? Because the element of danger from possible violent consequences is the only way to experience the blood-lust that is saturating your ears. This music is Pazazu and it will possess you one way or the other. But then you lose track of time and, while leaving the cat for dead, you reach an epiphany as an expertly swung baseball bat grazes your cheek just enough to push you out the door into the hallway. You realize that the vocals are fucking brilliant. No, no. I mean you can clearly hear King Diamond being channeled in “Mater Lachrtmarum” and Penny’s screams make you re-live Acid Bath‘s understated ferocity permeated by growls that give rise to buried aggression that you didn’t realize you were still holding from your angsty pre-teen years.

Shuffling down the hallway with Fluffy’s screams in the background, you can’t help but tip your metaphorical hat in respect for the sound samples used and song titles on this album. It’s classic horror movie worship if you ever saw it, but the sound sample used at the beginning of “Meat Shit Grinder” stands out the most to you since it’s exemplifies the driving force behind Psycho. Already forgetting your recent close-encounter with the bat wielding demon that you loosely refer to as a “roommate,” you can’t help but cheerfully recite the sample like a mantra until you reach your room.

Today, television and films give us the luxury of watching grisly dismemberments and deaths without anyone getting harmed but, ladies and gentlemen, have you ever had the fine luxury of observing a spectacle of human butchery in person?

By the time you’re staring at your door with a dazed look resembling that of a pregnant woman who just had an epidural shot directly to her brain via her nasal cavity, you begin to realize how profound that statement truly is. So, dear readers, it’s my deepest wish that you enjoy this album while allowing that mantra to engulf your thoughts.

Read my interview with the band here.