Rehearsal Tape 2001 by InThyFlesh – A Blackened Blast from Portugal’s Underground
Alright, buckle up, because Rehearsal Tape 2001 isn’t here to hold your hand or kiss your ass. This raw-as-hell black metal assault from Portuguese outfit InThyFlesh slams into your ears like a rusty sword through armor. Self-released under their own banner, this thing breathes DIY chaos in every note. No fancy production, no polished edges—just pure, unfiltered aggression that’ll leave you either headbanging or questioning your life choices.
Let’s get one thing straight: if you’re looking for sunshine and rainbows, piss off. Tracks like “Victory Shall Be Ours!” hit hard with blastbeat fury and shrieks so venomous they could strip paint off walls. It’s not perfect—it’s messy as hell—but that’s what makes it unforgettable. The riffs are relentless, churning out tremolo-picked madness while the drums just refuse to let up. You can almost smell the sweat and grime of some dingy rehearsal space where this beast was born. And yeah, maybe the recording quality sounds like it was done on a stolen tape recorder, but screw it—that’s the charm!
Then there’s “Harvested By Pride And Glory,” which feels like getting punched in the gut repeatedly—but in a good way. The track drags you into its dark vortex with haunting melodies buried beneath layers of filth and feedback. About halfway through, something shifts—a slow, brooding section creeps in, almost like a warning before all hell breaks loose again. It’s these moments of unpredictability that make the song stick in your brain long after the album ends. Like shards of glass, once it gets in, it ain’t coming out easy.
Sure, Rehearsal Tape 2001 might not be everyone’s cup of bile. If you need pristine soundscapes and technical wizardry, go listen to Dream Theater or whatever. But if you crave raw emotion and a sense of danger, this is the real deal. It’s ugly, imperfect, and gloriously unhinged—and honestly? That’s exactly why it works.
Here’s the kicker though: listening to this feels less like hearing music and more like eavesdropping on someone’s private war against existence itself. Like catching lightning in a bottle, except the bottle’s cracked and leaking everywhere. Fucked up? Absolutely. Brilliant? Hell yeah.
