Dead And Buried
It takes guts to do what Jungle Rot do. In a scene that has long prized blastbeats and technical precision, and more recently, melody and dynamics, Jungle Rot’s brand of primitive, back-to-(the old)-school death metal is so out, it’s not even in. Dead And Buried, the Wisconsin quartet’s latest slab of trend-bucking, further proves that they’re pretty much just going to gut it out for however long it takes them to break up, perpetually sounding like a Tampa (circa ’92) clone with not so much rudimentary songwriting and technical skills as much they really don’t care to exercise any chops they possess whatsoever. And I guess that’s comforting to them and, presumably, their diehard fanbase (whose sum IQ probably doesn’t exceed the average BPM evident on Dead And Buried) and maybe even Six Feet Under (who, similarly, are so not in, they’re out), but that’s about it. It’s one thing to consciously ply the primitive n’ simplified trade, but when an album like this is merely just there, that’s when you’ve gotta draw the line between “art” (Darkthrone, namely) and “artifice” (Jungle Rot, specifically). For what it’s worth, though, Dead And Buried might even just barely suffice when a hangover-afternoon death-metal record is your (thirsty n’ miserable) meal ticket.