Year of release: 2019
Released by: Season of Mist
Rating: 8,6 / 10
Good news! PROFANATICA did not failed after signing a contract with Season of Mist. I have noticed more than once that the French giant began to spoil once-reliable evil bands: DESTROYER 666 sounded smooth and clean, MYSTIFIER showed a not very distinct comeback, CRAFT turned into SATYRICON, WATAIN into TWATAIN, NOCTURNAL GRAVES became dull as fuck. Only INQUISITION (already having left the label) remained perfect, plus REVENGE is still holding their ground. PROFANATICA even on “The Curling Flame of Blasphemy” showed dangerous signs of softening - the sound of the album turned out to be suspiciously powerful, and the songs were almost melodic. Of course, we do not need such changes. The melodious PROFANATICA already exists, it is called THE ROYAL ARCH BLASPHEME, it is not necessary to make another one.
But the Lord heard my prayers, and the new PROFANATICA album keeps up with most of the band's discography. This is the same dirty blasphemous abomination; its brown notes make you want to defecate on the face of the Virgin Mary and wipe your ass with the Bible. Paul Ledney’s familiar dumb drumming rhytm and grating voice immediately set a positive mood, and the recitation “Black ejaculation begins!” removes all the doubts: this is real PROFANATICA, and even concert tours with rock stars are not able to change its animal essence. In this context, finding PROFANATICA in one roster with all kinds of glamorous shit seems very funny to me.
However, some kind of development of music did happen, otherwise Season of Mist would hardly have risked contacting the American blasphemers. “Rotting Incarnation of God” has good dynamics (that is, songs are performed in different rhythms and tempo, not in the same one), there is even some kind of apocalyptic atmosphere. There is more than enough of arrangements, like bass solos or ambient pieces. The songs themselves, by the way, are built on very strong riffs, but the band deliberately jerked them off from top to bottom so that it was not too musical. Who wants it, will get to them, digging through layers of dried up secretions, but it's still cool as is. The album cover is a separate topic. Paolo Girardi’s invitation might have seemed completely inappropriate, but the maestro was inspired enough to create one of his most sloppy works, which is perfect for the album. The desecration and abuse of all the saint happened again!