Well, this is fucking cool!
From the first nervy bars of All The Fear, Scorpion Milk tap into the same, apocalyptic vein of post-punk that powered early Killing Joke, with hints of a darker strain of metal waiting in the wings to draw the listener ever further from their comfort zone.
It all becomes clear when you realise that this gnarly little bastard of an album is the brainchild of the prolific Mat McNerney (Beastmilk, Grave Pleasures, Dødheimsgard, Hexvessel). From his resume, it’s easy to see that Mat is on more than speaking terms with the dark side, but Scorpion Milk is something different again and, clad in its sinister blood-red artwork, it’s an enigmatic beast that demands your attention.
Following All The Fear’s impressive opening, The Will To Live takes the gleaming guitars of Killing Joke and the more recent endeavours of Light of Eternity, infusing both with an industrial undercurrent that grinds just beneath the surface. Hard-edged it may be, but it’s also damned addictive, a facet that is repeated across the album, and you’ll find yourself humming the damned thing as you go about your days business. That catchiness can certainly be found on She Wolf Of London, which finds William Von Ghould from Creeper doing his best Andrew Eldritch impression.
Perhaps more surprising, given the sinister atmosphere of the opening tracks, is the full-blooded Cure impersonation on Another Day Another Abyss, which comes complete with heavily processed percussion and a nimble, Simon Gallup bassline. It’s followed by the dense, almost hypnotic Wall To Wall, which throws a touch of Godflesh into the mix, just to keep you on your toes.
If the first half of the album focuses on establishing an atmosphere, the devastatingly heavy title track rips it asunder with stunning ferocity. While still possessed of melody, the grinding riff and strangely emotionless percussion combine to deploy the relentless killing force of Michael Myers. Things get darker still on Silver Pigs, which features a spoken word introduction in Polish, roughly interrupted by shards of discordant guitar, before the main track emerges as a surging, industrial rock nightmare, all harsh vocals and propulsive rhythms, although the chorus remains damn catchy! The spirit of Sisters of Mercy returns on All Snakes, No Ladders, a straight-up goth anthem that keeps you hooked with its crystalline guitars. The album comes to a close with the reflective beauty of Children Are Dust, which adds The Doors as an unexpected sonic touchstone. A moment of sublime catharsis, it concludes this varied and imaginative album perfectly and leaves you very much wanting more in its wake.
Beautifully produced, performed, and packaged, Slime Of The Times is an unexpected treat that deftly brings together elements of goth, industrial, and post-punk. Short, sharp, and to the point, not a moment is wasted and, with many of the tunes almost dangerously catchy, you’ll find yourself hooked in no time. 9/10
