4Gent7 (Agent 47, I don’t know) – Rise/Fall

Agent 47 Logo

4Gent7 (Agent 47, I don’t know)
Rise/Fall
Roast Review by Rob (The Special Little Hyperactive Pixie) Sutton

For fuck’s sake! Which dimwit thought it would be a good idea to post publically to send songs so I can review them…? I always get lumbered with shit which simply annoys me. So Agent 47, 4gent7 or 47 Agents or James Bonds retarded Manchester counterpart. Fuck me have you seen the logo from these guys? Putting numbers to make a word just makes the name look like it would belong on a personalised licence plate, though there is nothing posh about these guys, I mean, they have hairlines Bill Bailey would be proud of. Honestly this logo clearly took a lot of time to come up with or a serious amount of autism. I’ll let you decide.

So the song ‘Rise/Fall’, sounds edgy, cool and a name that’s been used a million and one times before for a Metal song. Clearly, they used up all their creativity on the name / logo / registration plate. The song itself seems to be a wannabe Sludgy Blackened Death thing. It can’t decide what it wants to be, I mean the pacing at the beginning resembles that of a guy who is about to climax but is desperately trying not to so he pleasures his woman. Speaking of women, the video seems to be following a chick around the dirty parts of Manchester (I don’t mean perverted parts; get your head out of the gutter!). Maybe she is running away from this mess of a sound. 

Let’s start with the vocals, were they recorded in another room? They are so quiet! Normally I like to comment on the range or style that they use, but in this case what’s the point? It’s just over distorted shouting, which is supposed to be angry but instead sounds like a teenager who has just had his Playstation taken away and is now shouting at Mummy. If this is an attempt at Black Metal, record it in a forest on a cassette, bury it for 10 years then dig it up. Don’t fake it! Jesus I wasn’t miscounting, there are three guitars, each one seems to be doing the same thing. For fuck’s sake is this an attempt to be heavy, because it just looks like they’ve dragged a couple of street dwellers to make up the numbers? This song does actually pick up pace and we have a failed attempt at a blast beat, shall we call it a ‘slightly rapid hit of a snare’ eh? Practice makes perfect, it’s not like this band have been going for a while… 

Ok, Ok, bass time… Shit! He has a solo and does vocals! Well I’ve mentioned the vocals but a bass solo. Actually that’s pretty cool, nice one!

*Disclaimer*

Nothing of the above represents my true feelings towards this band, they make quality music and do a lot for the Manchester Metal scene, I mean look! Housing the homeless! 

LINKS:

Disclaimer: This review is solely the property of Rob Sutton and Ever Metal. It is strictly forbidden to copy any part of this review, unless you have the strict permission of both parties. Failure to adhere to this will be treated as plagiarism and will be reported to the relevant authorities.

Thrashatouille – U.K. Chef Metal EP

U.K. Chef Metal EP Cover Art

Thrashatouille – U.K. Chef Metal EP
Self-Released
Release Date: 28/04/22
Running Time: 09:35
Roasted by Dark Juan
8/10

If there was ever a massive mistake made by a young band, it was by Thrashatouille when they sent an email to Ever-Metal.com HQ and said (this is a direct quote), “I have attached everything for the latest Thrashatouille EP if anyone fancies taking the mickey out of us in a review?”

Challenge accepted. 

Thrashatouille is composed of four young gentlemen so ugly that when they were born the midwives slapped their dads. They are a part of the Manchester metal scene, which means they rub shoulders with plastic gangsters and mop-topped parka wearing twats who have such adenoidal voices they could be members of Manc Bee Gees cover bands. Or they could be the parka wearing twats. I try to avoid Manchester. However, they are posh boys from Northwich and therefore not to be trusted as Cheshire is perilously close to not being Northern, hence they have to come to a good Northern city and infiltrate its metal scene in a vain attempt to get some recognition because over in Cheshire they have golf clubs and soirees and garden parties where scuzzy young metal shitheads would not be welcome. Although Ellesmere Port is Cheshire, as are Widnes and Warrington and they are rougher than an entire flock of bird’s arses. Having had many a night out in Warrington and pulling some absolute monsters, and all that… One can only imagine the culture shock as these delicate flowers of well-monied manhood turned up in an industrial city where men are men and the women are… well, as hard as the men to be fair. You don’t piss about with a Manc lass, I tell thee… Only Geordie lasses wear less clothes in winter. Thrashatouille claim to be the first UK chef metal band because they clearly aren’t old enough to remember Lawnmower Deth’s “Did You Spill My Pint?” and most of Carcass’ early back catalogue (although they have beaten The Chronicles Of Manimal And Samara to the punch with “The Chef’s Song”, which is remarkable as Thrashatouille are so young they really should still be in their bedrooms furiously masturbating over whatever is a modern analogue to the lingerie section of the Grattan’s catalogue. Don’t lie and say you didn’t ever do it, male metallers of a certain age pre-internet. Finding a dog-eared grumble mag in some bushes and getting it home safely was a highlight of our teenage years. Club International was for posh wankers) and these hairy-palmed herberts apparently are composed of a Head Chef (who, in a staggering overturning of musical hierarchies is the bass player, one Chris Hargreaves. I’ve seen a picture and it ain’t fucking pretty. Trust me. Thank god for the chef’s hat), Pastry Chef (vocalist Rob Sutton, who is Ever-Metal.com’s very own super special little hyperactive pixie. And was foolish enough to let me do this. Bet he doesn’t know the difference between choux and puff pastry though…), a Sous-Chef (James Gerber, who plays guitar – the dynamics of this “band” are all wrong. Sous-Chefs are the lowest form of life in a kitchen who actually prepare food and I was actually a guitarist in a band once and all our hate was witheringly directed towards the rhythm section) Sous-Chefs do shit like dressings and salads, not peel off finger-shredding solos so this is clearly not right. They also have a Pot Wash (Daniel Brown) on the drums. At least that’s fucking accurate. All Neanderthal tub-bashers are good for is shoving dirty plates in the dishwasher anyway… You just have to communicate in grunts and whip them into compliance.

So, “Brain Freeze”. A paean to the dangers of rapidly consuming frozen confectionery treats or a description of the horrors that assailed my poor abused brainspace when Thrashatouille let rip. Like a wet fart you just know you’ve followed through on. Yes, I just managed to tell you that Thrashatouille are skidmarks in your trolleys without actually saying so. Their blurb states that they have Killswitch Engage style riffing in their music, with vocals inspired by Heaven Shall Burn. This is an egregious lie. Nay, nay and thrice nay.

Mid-paced thrashy numbers. That is what Thrashatouille play, and the Pastry Chef alternately sounds like he’s saying ta to the checkout girl in the local Tesco Express or emitting a grunt so forced I hope he’s wearing a Tena Lady to contain the inevitable leakage. There is the odd shriek from him too but I just assumed he had hurt himself on the corner of a table or amp at that point. The guitar player (he’s a Sous-Chef so worse than bloody useless anyway unless he’s “garnishing” something, fnaar fnaar) appears to have only one working ear that cannot discern tone and he fizzes and buzzes around the three tracks at my disposal. Which, to be fair, is something he and I have in common.

The next song is “Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead”. Never have I wished this on myself so much as hearing this disjointed piece of foetid rat crap. Silly, unadulterated nonsense that sounds like it has been recorded in the local B&Q warehouse. I want to comfort eat myself to death to make the pain stop. The Pastry Chef still sounds like a lung is going to drop out of his leaky arse at any second, with the odd added squeal (presumably of pain or orgasm, I can’t discern which, and this is QUITE disturbing). My will to live is being sapped slowly by the third rate thrashings of this posh boy bunch of gurning metal chancers. I have consumed so many calories of junk this evening to alleviate my suffering I run the risk of being mistaken for a Glaswegian. Thrashatouille – about the only thing in the world that would not benefit from being deep-fried in a Scottish chippy.

The last “song” we are going to consider is entitled “Maccies Monday”. This hurts already because McDonalds is only tenuously related to actual food as opposed to plastic shit made for obese Americans to shove down their capacious throats by the metric fuckton and wannabe Mancunian metal kids really should be getting a balanced diet. Seeing as all of Thrashatouille have faces that only a mother could love, unfortunately not their own mothers, the least they should do is shove some veggies down their necks to sort out the skin conditions that Clearasil won’t. Anyway, this is a staggering piece of work which is basically a stoned (“I say, Tim! Got any ganj?”) posh lad in the local Maccy D’s (I’ve been to the one in Northwich. “Would sir please like to peruse the menu and then make your selection, and I shall send your requests instantly to the kitchen for immediate preparation?” said the liveried waiter as he handed me the menu and an extensive wine list. I ordered the 1922 Chateau Yquem to go with my McPlant meal. That’s how posh Northwich is) ordering the entire fucking menu in a slowly building crescendo, until the hyperactive metal pixie roars “Doooonnnuuuuuuuttttttttt!” at the top of his voice and I can then die in peace. Never in my life have I been so excited about a donut. At least the Pastry Chef didn’t sound like he was prolapsing his arse this time. Although he is a total donut.

So, in conclusion, Thrashatouille are more shit than the entire contents of Audenshaw Sewage Treatment Works. And Audenshaw smells better, too.

I shall leave you with the glorious mental image of Rob the Pastry Chef grunting that hard he expels his own anal tract. You’re most welcome.

DISCLAIMER: This is a light-hearted roast of Thrashatouille, who are actually a really good, fun young band who write decent songs and are a very nice bunch of young men. Their three-track self-titled EP is available now and is a bloody good listen. More power to their collective elbows! All three tunes are very worth your time, shot through with humour and an infectious sense of cheeky fun. And their gigs have to be seen to be believed. Inflatable ice creams and donuts abound! Thankfully, the guys just throw them about a bit. I was worried they were going to start fucking them or something.

 The Patented Dark Juan Blood Splat Rating System awards a rough around the edges but bloody entertaining bunch of metal chimps 8/10 for three very silly, but still cracking songs.

Portrayal Of Ruinn, you can consider yourselves avenged!

TRACKLISTING:
01. Brain Freeze
02. Fat, Sick And Nearly Dead
03. Maccies Monday

LINE-UP:
The Head Chef – Bass
The Pastry Chef – Vocals
The Sous-Chef – Guitars
The Pot Wash – Drums

LINKS:

Disclaimer: This review is solely the property of ‘Dark Juan’ and Ever Metal. It is strictly forbidden to copy any part of this review, unless you have the strict permission of both parties. Failure to adhere to this will be treated as plagiarism and will be reported to the relevant authorities.

Portrayal of Ruinn – Awakened Hate

Portrayal Of Ruinn Logo

Portrayal of Ruinn – Awakened Hate
Roasted by Rob Sutton

Before we go into this song can I start by saying whichever member of this band came up with the band name clearly got an F in their English GCSE. It’s spelt ‘Ruin….’ or maybe it’s on purpose and they’re trying to be edgy in which case they are clearly appealing to the teenage market. Actually this makes sense considering some of them are parents so I guess having an edgy dad is cool these days, god those kids are going to be embarrassed when their friends ask what daddy’s band is called. 

Right, melodic deathcore they describe themselves as and this song certainly tries to be melodic taking influence from those shitty ballads you hear being sung at karaoke with the same couple of notes being played on repeat matched with a drum beat that is about as interesting as doing the laundry. All is not lost though as they have added a subtle hint of synths in the background! Wow! The creativity with this intro is outstanding, no other band I have ever heard has used synths before… wait. 

Awakened hate then turns straight into your stereotypical deathcore, yes not melodic, just straight up deathcore. Fuck sake someone sort their Facebook page out and learn your metal subgenres! Structuring lyrics is difficult at the best of times and even harder when you’re trying to portray a story but this just seems like they have thrown a load of seasonings onto a steak in the hope that they fit. In reality they’re rushed more than a postman on Christmas Eve. There is quite a nice riff under the barrage of beats from the drums, I say drums loosely as they’re clearly programmed as the drummer couldn’t be bothered getting up to record them properly, not like I can blame him as whoever wrote the drums clearly was having a tantrum about not getting their cookie before bed time and decided to press every button at once. I really feel sorry for the guitarist here as he may have talent but it’s lost in this sea of noise and artificial bullshit that’s being churned out. 

Oh Christ we have an attempt at gutturals… fucking hell my rectum is more understandable after a dirty Doner kebab the night before. The fuck is he saying, oh lyric video… yeah it’s needed. Though, they could have put anything as the lyrics as no fucker can understand him. Oops, he coughed. 

‘You were the worst thing that entered my life.’ This is bullshit. Girls or guys (not judging) are certainly not worse than politicians or for that matter Tesla drivers (fuck them). This is just being over dramatic but its fine as these MySpace era, deathcore wannabe’s clearly know a thing or two about being overly dramatic. Yes boys it’s time to cut the silly emo fringes and grow up. Oops he coughed again.

Ooo another brilliant phrase ‘your hate awakened me’ nah mate its put me back to sleep. I’m pretty sure these guys listened to Carnifex and just copied, it’s not even a good copy. Here is a tip, the Chinese are the masters of the copyright law take a trip there and learn how to copy someone but actually make it bearable for people to listen to. Oops he coughed. 

Why the fuck does he shout for cheese? Anyway back to this melodic metal that’s about as melodic as my voice when I stand on Lego… Oh for fuck sake he coughed! Right, my local Tesco has soothers for about 60p and they’re blackcurrant flavour, bloody love them, recommend them all day, and they taste better than the blood-soaked phlegm that your coughing up so buy some then you won’t have to keep coughing every 10 seconds and ruinning (see what I did there, now I’m edgy) this masterpiece of how not to do melodic metal.

Look if you like your run of the mill middle aged men attempting to relive their youth through ‘music’ then this is the band for you! Alternatively if you are a 14 year old wanting to rebel against mummy and daddy because they didn’t buy you a pony, buy one of their bright pink t-shirts, shout bleugh a few times and they will be so proud!

Shit I forgot to mention the bassist! Never mind.

Disclaimer:

This was written entirely for comedic purposes with the full consent of Portrayal of Ruinn. None of the things I have written represent what I actually think of this song.

Who am I kidding, I just farted and it was way more brutal than this budget Carnifex.

‘Awakened Hate’ Official Video

LINKS:

Disclaimer: This review is solely the property of Rob Sutton and Ever Metal. It is strictly forbidden to copy any part of this review, unless you have the strict permission of both parties. Failure to adhere to this will be treated as plagiarism and will be reported to the relevant authorities.

Black Mass – Involuntary Semen Ingestion

Black Mass – Involuntary Semen Ingestion
Roasted by Rob Sutton

A solo project from Shottingham which started in 2018 called Black Mass is my next victim for these roasts, and first off let’s get the elephant in the room out of the way. It’s a solo project because clearly no one wants to join in on this putrid stain on the Brutal Death Metal scene, or they just have no friends, I mean the logo for a start is just a load of over cooked spaghetti thrown at a wall and then monochromed, if you can read the logo then fair play to you, god gifted you with the ability to decipher a 3 year olds doodle of a dog. 

So this song, if you can call it that, starts with 3 hits of what can only be described as an empty Pringles tin which is then continuously used throughout the song much to my annoyance. Then we hit the vocals… Now the song is called ‘involuntary semen ingestion’ but by the sounds of this, it was voluntary. It’s like the vocalist was kneeling down letting a group of 12 guys ejaculate into their mouth before attempting to make noise down a microphone. Perhaps the song should be called ‘voluntary bukakke gargle’ to me that perfectly describes the sound of this voice. Are there even lyrics in this? For those blessed with the ability to hear I beg you to try and decipher what’s being said. To me it’s just gargle, gargle, thur thur thur, attempted bree. I hear there are ‘how to’ videos on YouTube, try them or better yet go on pornhub and listen to how those whores take jizz down the throat and talk. Boy those videos are sexier than this.

More on the music, yes there is a guitar which I’m pretty sure has taken influence from Emmure’s writing as it is about as imaginative as ordering a fosters. Oh look, fast guitar, oooo breakdown, I’m having a breakdown. Honestly it takes a lot of guts to self produce music in your bedroom but I guess this is what happens when your social life is nonexistent and you spend your days wanking. 

Oooo shit I forgot to mention the bass! Never mind, there isn’t one.

Disclaimer: This was written for comedic purposes only and was done with full consent of Black Mass. None of the above represents what I actually think of this song.

Again who am I kidding, Pringles Bukakke Gargle metal!

Video: 

LINKS:

Disclaimer: This review is solely the property of Rob Sutton and Ever Metal. It is strictly forbidden to copy any part of this review, unless you have the strict permission of both parties. Failure to adhere to this will be treated as plagiarism and will be reported to the relevant authorities.