Thank you for checking out the 11th installment of our Thrash 101 program, produced in conjunction with GimmeRadio, your free 24/7 radio station hosted by heavy-music experts and artists such as The Dillinger Escape Plans Ben Weinman and Death Angels Will Carroll. Check it out here.Of course, all great thrash melts faces. That’s why the genre exists! But then there are those facemelters that go above and beyond the call of duty. They’re so violent, pissed, and chaotic they leave you feeling pumped, possibly a little dazed, and, in those rarest of instances, aurally violated.Certainly, speed is vital to thrash’s ability to invigorate/intimidate. Yet despite its lofty status among thrash lifers, it’s not the sole determining factor. After all, Exhorder’s “Homicide” comes riddled with dense, slower breakdowns, and it won’t just melt your face; it will chew it right off. Then there’s The Accüsed’s “Mechanized Death,” which derives most of its unhinged power from Blaine Cook’s puke-screech and the band’s stuttering primitivism, and Sarcófago’s “Sex, Drinks & Metal,” which certainly hits blurring velocities, yet ultimately smashes minds through its deeply nonsensical song structure. It’s kind of like the sonic equivalent of a drunken temper tantrum.Warning: This surely will piss off those who kneel before the Big Four, but outside of Slayer (okay—I’ll make an exception for Metallica when they’re plowing through ragers like “Fight Fire With Fire”), I’m of the belief that the sickest thrash (i.e., the most intense facemelters) doesn’t actually come from them. To subject yourself to true sonic fury, dive into the German outfits Sodom, Kreator, and Destruction: All three are downright cruel in ways that are unique to a Teutonic scene whose bloodlust for dense, mechanized propulsion has little use for melody or hooks. Brazil also has coughed up a bunch of sickos. Of course, Sepultura (pictured above) became megastars once they shifted to groove metal, but dig into early, cult-level thrash numbers like “Primitive Future,” and you’ll encounter a group that’s both terrifyingly unhinged and stunningly precise; ditto for the already mentioned Sarcófago, as well as the hyper-obscure Anthares, whose 1987 album No Limite Da Força is a grainy blast of Satanic phlegm bursts and feverishly raked guitars.If you dig these facemelters, there’s a whole lot more where they came from. After all, thrash is kind of like the garage rock of metal. It’s a sprawling, grassroots pastime that has sprouted far too many regional scenes and underground freaks to count. In other words, the facemelters are endless.
