Slaughter Of Innocents by Inhumate Disembowel: A Brutal Sonic Assault That Won’t Let You Breathe
Alright, let’s get one thing straight—this album isn’t for the faint-hearted. Slaughter Of Innocents, released in 1998 by France’s own Inhumate Disembowel, is a relentless barrage of Death Metal and Grindcore that punches you in the gut and doesn’t stop until your ears are bleeding. No label? Who gives a damn when the music hits this hard.
Now, before we dive into specifics, here’s what you need to know: this record doesn’t fuck around. It’s raw, unfiltered aggression bottled up and thrown at your face like a Molotov cocktail. Tracks like Putrefaction and Incest (Just A Kiss) stick out not just because of their names but because they’re fucking unforgettable.
Take Putrefaction, for instance. The opening riff slams into you like a freight train derailing at full speed. It’s dirty, it’s chaotic, and it feels like your skull’s being split open while listening. And then there’s the vocals—pure guttural chaos screaming about decay and filth. This track grabs you by the throat and reminds you why Death Metal exists: to make everything else seem tame as hell.
And holy shit, don’t even get me started on Incest (Just A Kiss). What kind of twisted mind comes up with a title like that? But honestly, it works. The song grinds harder than anything else on the album, blending sickening lyrics with blast beats so fast they might give you whiplash. By the time it ends, you're left wondering if you should feel disgusted or amazed—or both. That’s the magic of this band; they blur those lines until you don’t know where one emotion stops and another begins.
The rest of the album follows suit. From Torture to Charred Remains, every track is an assault on your senses. Even songs like Where Dreams Die manage to weave haunting melodies into the madness without losing that brutal edge. And yeah, some tracks blend together after a while, but who cares? This ain’t background music—it’s a warzone.
Here’s the kicker though: beneath all the gore and rage, there’s something oddly cathartic about Slaughter Of Innocents. Maybe it’s the way the band channels pure anger into art, or maybe it’s just the sheer audacity of naming a song Earth Fucking Earth. Either way, this album sticks with you long after the last note fades.
So yeah, if you’re looking for polished production or radio-friendly hooks, keep walking. But if you want an experience that feels like getting hit by a truck full of broken glass, crank this sucker up. Just don’t blame me if your neighbors call the cops—or worse, start headbanging too.
