Decree – Fateless

When he's not busy propping up FLA, this is what Chris Peterson focuses his energies on (the others are Unit-187 and here's a not so subtle hint, Corndog: Revelstoker). Unsurprisingly, the span between Decree albums is always a long one but the wait is more than justified by the results. This third release from the band delivers on all accounts, making good on the potential hinted at by 2004's 'Moment of Silence'. Give me the distortion, give me the hate, it's time to open up the gates of hell and partake. Nothing pretty to hear here, you're not going to taste anything but alkaline and phosphorous, a declaration of war on the mealy-mouthed crybaby state of things in the underground... Decree have a message, and that message is this: we will not play nice.

What I would not give to see them live, and don't try to tell me they tone it down, I've heard bits and pieces and they're just an appetizer.

This is a leaner, more vengeful outing and it's complimented by thick, angry slabs of guitar which remind me of David Galas' last solo album "The Happiest Days of My Life". There's also a new influence I detect, mid-80s SWANS. In particular, their "Greed" and "Holy Money" era. Live drums never hurt, either, and their seamless inclusion brings out the incredible anger of "Fateless" like snake venom loosed on an infant's veins. Surely, this one won't be disliked by the faithful, we who have waited and waited and waited for the monster which is Decree to return. Peterson's love of intertwined, twisted programming is in full swing, especially during the fourth track: "The World Enslaves". The recording techniques the band employ during this one and all throughout "Fateless" are pitch perfect. No detail is omitted, nothing's muddied or out of alignment. The sound is crisp, precise and merciless.

I'd expect nothing less from one of the founding members of the legendary act, Will. The choral effects and up front keyboard work may be no more but the spirit of this long-gone band burns brightly at the core of 'Fateless' in ways it has not on the previous two records Decree have done. It's enough to have had them from 1987 - 1992 but the line between this latest endeavour and what Will did can be summed up just as the liner notes to 'Pearl of Great Price' did in 1991: a state of burnt offerings. Scorch the Earth, leave none alive. The title track is this albums clearest link, actually danceable but then you listen to the words... we'll dance alright, on the skulls of our enemies and grind them to dust under our heels.

Quite frankly, a few more nudges in the direction that they're going and Decree will re-define what grimy, sludge-laden electro-organic assault is. I have to go back to the live drums one more time and say how absolutely righteous those fills are, they're clearly played with gusto and oftentimes burst out of my speakers along with a beautifully militaristic snare. If you dug Ministry's 'Filth Pig' album but wanted more speed, more extreme instrumentational abuse and a heavier tone, this record is for you. The shattering choruses(?) come across more like curses, vocal chords shredding as the blinding disgust explodes like a boil being lanced with precision by a white hot needle. Decree don't confine themselves to just disliking constraints or expectations, I suspect. Contempt is the primary emotion which is at the core of these pieces. But that's not all.

The band's love of disquieting ambient excursions thrives on songs such as "Night and Fog". This is a vindictive, taunting number which will stalk you relentlessly. You may move faster than it does but there's no need to rush a thing, like the zombies in a Romero flick, it knows you'll eventually have no place left to run or hide. Once cornered, it will consume you ravenously and no matter how loud you scream or how hard you try to escape, your entrails will drip from between it's putrefied teeth like candies from a pinata. Did I mention that this album is quite dark? Like an Octopus' ink and just as unfathomable, disorienting and distorting everything until your perception is completely cloaked in an impenetrable cloud of truly astounding proportions.