“…he killed young girls, cut off their buttocks, only the most succulent meat he would eat…”
While ‘87’s "Grim Reality" rips and shreds the surface of what MACABRE can concoct, “Gloom” massacres it with twenty-one more tracks that were carved into leathery flesh over the two years between bloodbaths. There are lyrics here that will spring the giggles on you. They may mesmerize with their unusual and unexpected musical adeptness. Their uncanny penchant for peppy, upbeat vibes behind images of families mowed down by gunfire in McDonalds is legendary in certain circles. They’ll probably never find themselves in the forefront of any genre, and that’s just as it should be. Like a madman’s temper, vocals swing from an inhuman screech to a throat-searing shriek and down into a pit of thrash bawl and about fourteen points in-between that cannot be dubbed sane. Macabre are the Peek Freens of thrash/speed bands. They’re never a danger to any of music’s imagined crowns, nor will any of the three ever run for
Congress. They’re about as relaxed as a marked man hiding next door to the mob’s clubhouse even though their sound can deflect most caliber bullets. Between their morbid sense of humour and unbridled, crazed resonance, they’re most undoubtedly a cultivated taste.