Putrid Glory by Necrotério: A Death Metal Gem That Smells Like Teen Spirit (But Worse)
Alright, buckle up, because we’re diving into Putrid Glory, the 1998 magnum opus from Brazil’s Necrotério. This isn’t your polished, studio-perfected rock album—it’s raw, it’s gritty, and it smells like someone left a sack of roadkill in the sun for three days. But hey, that’s death metal for you, right? Released under the “Not On Label” banner (which sounds suspiciously like something my unemployed cousin would say), this record is as underground as it gets. And honestly? That’s part of its charm.
The album kicks off with “Intro,” which is exactly what it sounds like—a moody, atmospheric build-up that sets the stage for the chaos to come. It’s not groundbreaking, but it does its job like a bouncer at a dive bar: no frills, just raw intent. Then BAM! You’re hit with the title track, “Putrid Glory.” This song sticks out not just because of its name, but because it feels like being chased through a swamp by an angry chainsaw-wielding ghost. The riffs are relentless, the vocals sound like Satan gargling glass, and the drums go so hard they might’ve caused a minor earthquake in São Paulo when recorded. If you don’t bang your head to this one, check your pulse—you might be dead.
Another standout is “Legist - Permanent Retaliation.” I mean, c’mon, even the title screams “I’m here to ruin your day!” It’s got this chuggy, groove-laden riff that worms its way into your brain and refuses to leave. Imagine if Black Sabbath and Cannibal Corpse had an ugly baby—this track would be its high school yearbook photo. There’s something oddly satisfying about how unapologetically brutal it is. By the time it ends, you’re left wondering if retaliation really is permanent or if there’s some kind of refund policy.
Tracks like “Handcuffs” and “Butcher - Bloody Obssesion” [sic] round out the album nicely, though let’s take a moment to appreciate the charming typo in “Obssesion.” Feels like a happy little accident that perfectly sums up the DIY ethos of the whole thing. These songs don’t reinvent the wheel, but they sure as hell drive it straight into a wall at top speed.
Reflecting on Putrid Glory, it’s clear this album isn’t trying to win any beauty contests. It’s grimy, chaotic, and probably illegal in several countries. But here’s the kicker: that’s exactly why it works. In a world full of overproduced nonsense, Necrotério reminds us that sometimes, music should feel dangerous.
So next time you’re stuck in traffic or waiting for your coffee order, throw on Putrid Glory. Just don’t blame me if your neighbors start giving you weird looks—or calling animal control.
