I Tried to Quit Death Metal—but then Dying Fetus Happened.
As so often when you’re trawling the internet to escape your dull existence—scrolling reels instead of doing actual work—you eventually hit gold.
Today it was some lads doing a ridiculous little line dance. The soundtrack? A track called “Grotesque Impalement.”
Caption: Dying Fetus fans when this starts playing.
And I was instantly caught between worlds: the absurdity of the moves syncing with the riff, the grotesque hilarity of the title, and the little goblin in my brain already chanting: press play, press play, press play.
But hold on. Remember? Death metal and I already broke up. I had my final showdown in Hamburg with Cattle Decapitation: three support bands in jog pants, Travis Ryan licking his own snot off his arm, and thirty sweaty blokes trying to rupture each other’s internal organs. That night broke me.
I wrote the breakup letter. I said goodbye. Declared, loud and clear, that death metal was simply not my cup of tea. Too much gore. Too many entrails. Too much ugh. Case closed.
So why the hell was I now staring at a reel of dancing lads with Dying Fetus – Grotesque Impalement scrawled across it, already grinning, already hooked?
I didn’t want to listen. I didn’t want to pull up the album cover. I knew it would haunt me. And yet—against all better judgement, against all promises I’d made—I sighed. And pressed play.
And then it happened. I pulled up the whole damne EP. Six tracks. Twenty-one minutes. And I came out the other side—kind of happy.
Fuck my life.
Turns Out You Can Smash Things in a Happy Way
Let’s start with the title track—Grotesque Impalement.
It’s five minutes long—basically an epic saga by death metal standards—and it’s freakishly good. I was howling at some point—because this shit should not work. And yet, here we are.
The vocals are this completely unrecognisable, inhuman gutteral grunt layered with squeals and growls.
Could you decipher the lyrics if you really tried? Sure.
Did I? What am I—insane? Hell no.
And yet, those growls—they work. On a level that makes absolutely no sense. Just pure, bestial energy. They crawl under your skin and rile something up. Make you want to smash furniture—but, like, with a grin. A joyful, fully-consensual rage blackout.
The riffs drive it all forward, and there’s a melody in there that’s catchy enough to be criminal. The whole track makes you want to jump up and down like an ape and knock things over. Therapeutically.
Streaks of Blood (a Baphomet cover) is also four minutes of glory and opens with a growl-blargh combo that had me grinning. It's low. It drags. It trudges forward like something enormous and very angry, and the groove underneath it all is surprisingly satisfying.
Honestly, I was chuffed by the gruffs. Go ahead. Grunt at me. I’m into it. Why? No idea. It just fit the mood.
Next up: Bringing Back the Glory, a cover from hardcore band Next Step Up. Never heard the original, don’t need to. This version hits. It’s got that hardcore bite—fast, furious, in your face—but layered with that extra death metal brutality that seems to work for me today. It’s fast. It’s furious. It’s angry. The drums pummel like there’s no tomorrow, and the guitars groove enough to keep you moving with the storm instead of getting swallowed by it.
Tearing Inside the Womb—yeah, I know. I also had to mentally blank out the title. I did not read the lyrics. I will not read the lyrics. The song itself? Totally fine. Nothing annoying about it. There's a breakdown in there that hits pretty well, and it slows down in parts to give it more weight. But it’s not Grotesque Impalement levels of good. It’s solid. It does what it’s supposed to.
Then there’s a weird interlude about Davie and his abusive dad, and frankly, I have no idea why it’s here. Maybe it was meant to open the EP? Maybe it was meant to stay on someone’s hard drive? Either way, it’s under a minute and easy to ignore.
And finally—oh boy—Hail Mighty North / Forest Trolls of Satan (Anno Clitoris 666).
Yes, that’s the actual title.
And the track? An absolute curveball. It sounds like Dying Fetus woke up one morning and chose glam. Full-on party mode. They even throw in the classic glam rock move of calling out to the guitarist like we’re in a Poison video: “CC – pick up that guitar.”
You know what? I’m into it. I love when bands don’t take themselves too seriously. You want to end your brutal death metal EP with a glitter-soaked glam anthem? Go for it. I’ll be in the corner nodding approvingly.
So yeah. Four death metal tracks, one interlude, one glam rock finale. I went in expecting psychological damage. I came out—delighted.
Death Metal and I Are in a Situationship.
Turns out, brutal death metal might not be my natural habitat—but today? It hit exactly right. The grunts. The riffs. The utterly unnecessary troll glam outro. I can’t explain it. I won’t try.
I still have five reviews to write and four newsletters to finish—like today.
Instead, I listened to Dying Fetus – Grotesque Impalement on repeat and had a genuinely good time.
So yeah. Add it to the list. Alongside Slaughter to Prevail and that one Cattle Decapitation album I can’t shut up about.
Apparently, I’m in too deep to claim genre purity anymore.
And honestly? I’ve stopped fighting it.