A ship of unimaginable force crushes through waves of shattered glass and broken bones. As war horns beckon lightning through greyscale skies, a god marches towards the vessel through the fractured ocean with piranha teeth. The hulking figure whispers words of temptation, its hot breath booms towards the ship. A helmsman cries out in agony as he is torn apart by a psionic surge of stale meat. CEOs rejoice as the smell of destruction fills their pockets with simulated wealth. The god-being trudges ever forward toward the blight of humanity. A sailor takes hold of the steering wheel, his eyes flushed white with fear and ignorant hubris, righting the course towards inevitable decommission. The two forces smash into one another in a maelstrom of sharp, crackling death and detonation. In the wake of the action, a whirlpool fades into calm undulation. Pieces of woe become one: Wood, metal, ancient flesh, lightning, thunder and sorrow; sung by A Cult That Worships A God Of Death.
Invest in death, release your gods.
A Cult That Worships A God Of Death is TGLH’s latest gift to the world. Sonically, the band has created a mood maker that elicits feelings of positive dread and crushing momentum. TGLH have heightened their song writing prowess, with tight, rockin’, riff-laden tracks sprinkled with melodic tangents.
In a world of pick and play, ACTWAGOD plays as a cohesive album, seducing you to take the ride through the tracks. The album opens with the droning “Untitled”, a post-apocalyptic warning, the calm before the storm. The next four tracks blast forth with urgency, riffs piled high and plentiful with vicious vocals and bass-heavy, fuzzed up guitars and drums. The last three instrumental tracks close out the album with melodic gaze, bringing a chaotic yet soothing introspection. By the time you reach the final track, you’re frowning and banging your head, for what you just heard was nasty and delicious.
supported by 31 fans who also own “A Cult That Worships A God Of Death”
By Paul Bunyan’s ginormous balls, this album is Nirvana’s Bleach after surviving a meth lab explosion. A disgusting mess, all blown out, a heap of still-smoking, twisted metal and caked with clumps of scorched crank and charred bits of flesh.
supported by 26 fans who also own “A Cult That Worships A God Of Death”
More refreshing than a Mountain Dew during a blood sacrifice to Quetzalcoatl on your favorite solstice, this record brings back all the ghosts of your married friends’ singles days to hang out with one more time before they have to go home for dinner. Dustin Meredith