December 2, 2011 | , | 4.5

Brutal Truth, End Time

Brutal Truth: End Time

It has never been easy — for me at least — to easily digest the cacophony of grind that Brutal Truth are known for producing. It always takes me more than a handful of listens to any one of their albums to fully grasp the sonic wall of fury they are bombarding my meager brain cell with. The band’s latest album, the appropriately titled End Time, is no different. There is just so much distorted guitar, spastic drumming (like the many arms of a pre-menstrual Vishnu) and guttural utterations that one can take at any one time. Throw in the band’s penchant for layering a crazy amount of chaotic atmosphere into the mix and it’s all I can to to keep from losing my grip on reality. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Album opener “Malice” lulls you into a false sense of security as it slowly crawls and methodically bludgeons you into a deep coma with crushing riffs and heavy handed drum work. It’s not until the squealing, swirling reverb and rumbling bass of “Fuck Cancer,” that you finally realize that you’ve already blasted through a few songs without even realizing it. And that’s already after the methamphetamine injection of “Simple Math” and the destructive title track to jack you all up.

These grinding stalwarts rarely let off the gas pedal even after they’ve run you down in their death mobile — you remain clutching to the front bumper for dear life, skin flaying from the vicious road rash — with standout tracks like “Celebratory Gunfire,” “Butcher” and the Napalm Death wink of “Trash.”

Rich Hoak must go through drum kits like Kim Kardashian goes through stretch pants for that ass. He’s an absolute machine, flailing and blasting, all the while maintaining a solid directional momentum. It’s impressive as hell. Throw in Lilker’s rumbling bass lines and Burke’s screaming/screeching guitar madness and you’ve got a method for destroying the Earth as we know it. Kevin Sharp’s maniacal growls and mad-man like ramblings are just the icing on the cake. He never fails to deliver the goods.

23 songs in about 53 and a half minutes. That’s a daunting task to make it through in one sitting, but if you manage to make it through with your full capacities in check, then you’ll be rewarded with a slew of masterful grind. The vicious combo of “All Work and No Play” and “Addicted” are a must hear, as is the final track on End Time. “Control Room” is is 15 minutes of delusional madness of muted barks and ramblings covered with atmospheric guitars and rabid drums. It’s a track that is confusing and noisy, but suits the album perfectly as I would imagine that’s all one would hear after the world has ended.