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Anno 1995, i canadesi Cryptopsy danno alla luce il loro primo full lenght dopo il demo “Ungentle Exhumation”, registrato l’anno prima. Profondamente influenzati dai connazionali Gorguts e, più in generale, da tutto il Brutal Death americano dei primi anni '90, compongono dieci brani molti vari tra loro caratterizzati da una buona abilità tecnica (anche se ben lontana dai virtuosismi dei dischi successivi) e relativamente orecchiabili.
La produzione poco nitida e, a parer mio, troppo poco compressa, penalizza i cinque presentando suoni di chitarra impastati e poco distinguibili. Da notare gli stacchi di basso presenti in canzoni come “Defenestration” e “Gravaged” che diventeranno una costante nei dischi successivi. L’amato-odiato cantante Lord Worm, utilizza una voce molto gutturale che rende il disco più oscuro ma che sulle prime potrebbe sembrare fuori luogo.
Le lyrics sono incentrate sui temi cari al genere (morte, necrofilia etc.) trattati con un singolare umorismo nero anche se, come già dice il titolo, circa un terzo sono blasfemi e mirati all’iconoclastia più sfrenata (stupendo quello di “Mutant Christ”). Anche se a fianco di capolavori del genere (come “Effigy Of The Forgotten” dei Suffocation o “Butchered At Birth” dei Cannibal Corpse) questo disco potrebbe sembrarvi un loro gradevole surrogato, ritengo che sia comunque un buon disco di Brutal Death, suonato bene e con una massiccia dose di cattiveria e capacità compositiva.
Soprattutto, è un buon modo per entrare nel mondo musicale dei Cryptopsy, che nei dischi successivi, molto più tecnici e complessi, diventa quasi inavvicinabile senza un preventivo allenamento. In conclusione consiglierei questo disco sia ai cultori della band, che ne apprezzeranno il carattere genuino e immediato, sia ai fan del Death più classico e tradizionale, sia a quelli che cercano qualcosa di più originale senza sconfinare nei territori più innovativi. “Blasphemy Made Flesh”, infatti, coniuga bene il trinomio: stile personale-canoni classici-originalità.
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01 Defenestration (04:36)
Oh what a gal!
She seems such a perfect victim:
This I can tell, for if beauty by guilt,
she's guilty
Ordinarily,
I'd not wish to frighten her or hurt her,
But such beauty inspires one
to give the gift of murder
She's the kind of girl you want to
run up and tackle through a window some floors up
and spatter you both to hell
Come and get it;
your stuffed bunny's at the window,
But not that far out...
Reach little one! Reach!...
02 Abigor (03:47)
O most luscious cenobite,
you wield your whip
as though it were another appendage;
Favor me with pleasure-pain,
rip me with your claws
Chew me with your saw-toothed cunt
Dead eyes alive with darkness to match their sockets,
they blaze with unmatched cruelty
Leave those long thorns embedded in your scalp,
They look stuck in far enough to hurt
Hell's polyhedron has blessed you
Your peerless beauty drips of sin
In this time of configuration,
blessed order shall prevail
Two sides to the war on flesh
Leviathan, who can't smile, beams
Encased in leather as it is,
I can't drink from your neck
It shall remain its soft, cold, blue-white:
I'll bind your pround breasts with barbed wire
I wish to partake of their nectar... Is it pus?
I might breach your zippers
and open your face
I might gag you with an urchin
I long to hear a quiet sight escape
your lovely lips as I bite your fettered, smooth thighs
Love subverted, lust perverted
Bitch-goddess Abigor´s pretty face
can mask her suffering
Make you worship both her and her needles
Subjugate it, perforate it,
flesh reordered isflesh of use
I now rededicate my life
to what Abigor has shown me
03 Open Face Surgery (04:24)
I've learned to control my thoughts
ever since I recognized the first eavesdropper:
those who listen in on my thoughts,
my logic, my sanity
I cannot let them know I don't know
the verses, or converse in my head:
lash out at future foes,
banter with friends I've not yet met
The psychoaggressive minions of
your lord mock with laugher I can't hear,
with hidden scowls they admonish me
Nothing's sacred, Nothing's safe:
your filthy god is omnipresent,
this undying nonentity that haunts
my every waking dream
They watch me, his mortal flock,
they know me now by sight alone:
my thoughts are too well concealed...
Yet I sense more scrutiny
Fleeting lucidity's too loud for me,
let me be my silent self:
our existences irreconciled
Make them stop! I'm rotting fast...
The answer, painful though it may be,
is change
Alter my outer shell...
The listener's may not, then, know it's me
Open Face Surgery: short of pain
and long on masquerade
Ounce by ounce, lose a little weight
nip here, tuck there... So who needs eyelids?
05 Born Headless (04:29)
You're not emoting:
one of us will have to dig deeper;
These are my cheek nails:
Penetration, though unclean,
can make you bleed
in so many interesting ways;
I rend your flesh and caress your fears
as you weep
Human tragedy...
Let this be a lesson to you, it's symbolic
Let this dirt define your grave
Midmortemtorment,
ornament of dandling flesh;
Why do you vomit?
You should have seen the last one I did:
I chewed it to a paste and spit it out
when I was done, yet the gummy taste
of anus still smothers my tongue
Girth control, to me, is considered an art;
Fat's fully excised as I tear you apart;
my maleficence is as deep aas it can get:
I derive enjoyment from cruel torture
and messy death
I tear your legs from their sockets
to ease my pilfering of your pockets
Better for you if you'd been born headless
Blame your mother you weren't born headless
Now that it's over, you'll be remembered,
but not missed, swathed in cerements
to keep in the precious cold
I turn and pass away in violence an gunfire;
the earth soaks up my brain...
I see myself as I've been
I see myself
06 Swine of the Cross (03:06)
Man-made doom bled death from the sky;
to all but a few, salvation was denied
Heavenly father, son and holy ghost,
save your servants (those of us who aren't toast)
The not-yet-dead discovered that to be
a nuclear family means a whole new thing;
All-too-trusting shambling pseudomorphs
put their trust in a man of the cloth
Make them hate you, rotting cleric...
Remember, you are pu of my loins, you are pus
Give voice to your left side, let me in:
I've sawn the seeds of your redemption;
In subhumanicide, I am your guide:
seventy-seven times make them die
The sun is shining on a brand new day
Blackened corpses smolder where they slain;
Self-flagellation prompts him to confess:
Bless me father, for I made this mess
Immolation meant to purify sin wracked souls
Let diseased bodies die; survivors twice lost:
Betrayed in fire, by the Swine of the Cross
07 Gravaged (A Cryptopsy) (02:47)
Ungentle exhumation
Must be thorough, remove it all
Catalogue every part,
Then rape them and eat them
How dare them bury
what should be mine
My dead companions
on which I dine
Penetrate the dead hole
Please, O lord, just let it smell
and let mankind's puniverse
be befouled just for me
My graveside manner
lacks no finesse
These ravaged bodies
betray no distress
As I tear apart the dead things
I annoint them with my seed
and gain new insights into death
with their consumption
Yet I wonder,
What if I were something dead?
Somewhere there's a graveyard of ghouls
with a massive headstone
that waits just for me;
Maybe someday
Someone will come
09 Mutant Christ (04:21)
Abobinated, tiny god of mine
Overseeing my rest, my lust, my life
Torched in hatred
Loved in Horror sublime
Almost formless
Darkened, and yet you shine
You made me in your image
I deformed yours into mine
Now we're even, O loving god
Equals in my melting eyes
Mutant christ, loving christ
Know me with thine naked eyes
Holy christ, one tenth the size
So unlike the other christs
God-made man (with)
man-made god to adore
Idolatry?
My faith has been restored
Gaze upon me
Bless me, lord, or die
I'll find another little lord to fry
You baked me in this image
so I burned yours into mine
Eye for eye and tooth for tooth
I love you now, O twisted christ
Mutant Christ
10 Pathological Frolic (04:34)
Who is this Geoffrey?
All I see is this cold cadaver
Why is this Geoffrey
lying in puddles of pus on a gurney?
Tell me of this Geoffrey,
this boy with a noose around his neck;
More about Geoffrey:
why is he wearing his mother's bra?
How old was Geoffrey?
At a guess, I'd say
about twelve or thirteen;
He died accidentally
from auto-erotic asphyxiation;
He'd been masturbating...
our little stiff still has one on
and it's been one week!
The resurrection men
took their sweet time
Cross-dressed fruit:
what a way to die!
Now he's ours:
the apple of our eve;
Fetch the dead sphincter:
cold green meat
How did his ass taste?
Tender and sweet...
And then we fucked it...
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