Kavrila is the hairy ass that jumps on your face while you’re drinking your morning tea. Mercy? No chance. The Hamburgers bolt out of your speakers like a steam hammer on speed, dig out your front yard with a shovel and dump black earth from a graveyard on top of your growing tulips.
The recipe for havoc: a fat load of Sweden-Death à la Entombed, a heavy sludge sound in the best NOLA fashion, an occasional Black Metal storm, driving high energy Punk rock and a huge load of rehearsal room attitude. Anyone who’s into amphetamine loaded unpredictable destructive rage, will love Kavrila.
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Suspended in black amber, I suffocate even as I burn. All time is now, and mine is up. If only I could turn, twist, tear off this decaying husk to reveal the feral child with flaming eyes that I once was. But I have faded to gray, a ghost of a memory even I have nearly forgotten. Yet still, somewhere, I exist; an echo of a silenced heartbeat reverberating into infinity. Dave Aftandilian
What I see in the mirror is not me. Horror-shapes twist, writhe, become greasy smoke. My head spins like a top and I cannot tell up from down, truth from lies. I shimmer and decay moment by moment. Dave Aftandilian
"Curse These Metal Hands" parlays the UK bands' chemistry into a record which—for all its tinnitus-inducing ferocity and elegiac arrangements—practically drips with transcendent joy. Bandcamp Album of the Day Aug 18, 2019