ARSONISTS GET ALL THE GIRLS’ THE GAME OF LIFE IS NEITHER FOR THE FAINT HEARTED NOR THE CLOSE MINDED

It was only a matter of time ’til a band came around that was inspired by Napalm Death, Morbid Angel and Faith No More in equal measures. Arsonists Get All the Girls have the same cock-eyed sense of humor as a band like Mr. Bungle, whether it be in their name or their song titles (my personal favorites are “Save the Castle, Screw the Princess” and “To Get Eaten by Rats”) – and something about this complete inability to brood in the dark seems to rub people the wrong way (ATGATG isn’t the only band stuck with this bullshit problem; check out See You Next Tuesday, Nights Like These, etc.). Like their labelmates At All Cost, AGATG are willing to break the rules of any particular metallic subgenre as it suits them, all in the name of making the most schizofrantic music possible. Listen with an open mind – it’s a fuckin’ blast, man.

Hardcore gang shouts (“MAN-TI-PEDE!”) mixed with grindcore that eases into a soothing, FNM-“Epic”-like piano outro (“So You Think You Know About the Game of Life”); polka-like guitars that precede robotic keyboards as an intro for an elephantine explosion of aural violence (“Claiming Middle Age a Decade Early”); the best Slayerian metalcore riff no Slayerian metalcore band has actually written (“Save the Castle, Screw the Princess”); visceral Swede-style guitar harmonizing (“Tourtasia”); crushing machine gun tech death breakdowns that somehow invokes old school Nintendo soundtracks before morphing into Pantera-esque groove metal complete with keyboards that somehow invokes old school Atari soundtracks (“Shoeshine for Neptune”) – I don’t how the fuck you could not appreciate all these elements coming together at once. ATGATG may have yet to quite achieve the musical maturity of Between the Buried and Me – there are no, say, concept album-like recurring instrumental motifs, no twenty minute epics – but the basic idea is the same: take every element of every type of metal you’ve ever enjoyed and toss ’em together in a blender, all in the name of making the most brutal, blackout-inducing cocktail ever. Seems like pretty sound logic to me.

Bottom line: don’t be put off by the band’s name, or, for that matter, the fact that the band’s live show must attract more fifteen year old karate chopping cocksuckers than an Japanese gay pride parade; this band’s sensibilities are much more in line with, say, hydro-death masters Cephalic Carnage than a band like One Dead, Three Wounded. The Game of Life is a fuckin’ whirlwind.

(three and a half out of five horns)

-AR