Artist: Septic Broiler
Search Term: "Broiler"
Apparently this is the title track from a demo tape that would be Septic Broiler's sole output before changing their name to the far classier but also far lamer Dark Tranquility, so we can maybe give them a pass on the sound quality here. The opening seconds suggest that there may be a guitar hook beneath the congested lo-fi muck, but I tend to think metal songs require better production to be effective. The drums in particular are pretty far back in the mix, which doesn't do much for their intended blast beat attack.
Now, I admittedly know even less about metal than I do about most musical genres, elementary scientific principles, or social mores. While I get that respectable folks like Mark Prindle and John Darnielle respond to the cathartic anger and undeniably impressive musical skill of metal artists, the music doesn't resonate with me beyond the occasional Metallica or Electric Wizard song. So I've never felt compelled to pay much attention to metal in general, let alone dig down and get to know the differences between thrash, death metal, doom metal, etc. I don't look down my nose at metal; there's just not much overlap between that genre and my personal tastes, and so I'm generally not interested in it. I can honestly say that most of what I know about metal I have learned from Brian Posehn's stand-up.
What I do sort of look down my nose at, however, is overwrought silliness. Vocalist Anders Friden growls in that hoarse, low register that is apparently the hallmark of death metal, and I cannot for the life of me picture anyone taking it seriously. Even though this 1990 track probably predates the pejorative "Cookie Monster vocals" that I've seen commonly used with regard to this type of singing, that doesn't make the description any less apt--or less aptly dismissive. Coming out of the brief guitar solo at the three-minute mark, Friden actually just roars, "RAAAGHH!" like a six-year-old wielding a stick that he's calling a sword (or some damned Dragonball Yu-Gi-Oh weapon, who knows what kids do with their time when they're not robotripping on bath salts they got from Twitter).
I can't be alone in finding this stuff immeasurably stupid, can I?