Infester came from Seattle, Washington, leaving a trail of diseased slime wherever they went. No, I’m not being cruel to the band, rather the contrary, because this debut and only album from Infester is perhaps the most wonderfully sick album in death metal history, matched only by the acrid fumes of Goatlord, Nuclear Death and Autopsy. All of the members had also worked with Meat Shits, which may be where they honed their predilection for maximum disgust metal, but this record is far more musically substantial than that porn obsessed abortion of a band. Mostly leaning towards the slow, doomy, evil side of tempos, the band’s whole sonic picture is just full of dirt caked guitars and drumming that can actually approach random at times, often doing unexpected rolls and fills out of nowhere. And there’s a fairly consistent use of keyboards, which Mercyful Fate style, add density to the whole demented feel of the record. And then there are the vocals to consider which sound like a perverted demon arguing with an alcoholic, geriatric witch. Just perfect. This is one of the essentials, an almost deconstructed record, existing in its own world, purely for its own sake. If you dig it, great. If not, that’s fine too, because it wasn’t made for you. Take it on its own sick terms or forget you ever heard of it.
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