There is, in the career of Dying Fetus, a constancy that commands respect. Since the mid-1990s, the Maryland trio have hammered out a death metal of extreme brutality, crossed with grindcore and groove, without ever deviating from their trajectory. Make Them Beg for Death, hailed by the critics (an 84 average across eight reviews), confirms that the machine still runs at full tilt.
What distinguishes Dying Fetus from the mass of brutal bands is that sense of groove that irrigates the violence. Between two surges of blast beats and cavernous growls surge those unstoppable breakdowns, those syncopated riffs that bend the neck. The trio understood early on that brutality alone tires, and that it gains from being rhythmic, articulated, almost danceable in its heaviness.
The critics hail an execution of fearsome precision. John Gallagher and his companions play fast, hard and true; the massive production showcases each blow landed. This is a record built for the stage, for the wall of death, for the collective catharsis of the pit.
One will not ask Dying Fetus to reinvent themselves: the band do what they do better than anyone, and do it with metronome constancy. Make Them Beg for Death is not a revolution but a new show of force, of unstoppable efficiency.
Verdict: 8. A brutal, groovy, perfectly executed record confirming Dying Fetus at the summit of technical death metal. No surprise, but no flaw.
