This week gave me a chance to ponder as to how pitiful, shortsighted and encompassing, all at the same time, the genre labels can be. On one hand I was listening to the dark melodic stoicism of Daylight Days. On the other hand I had bowel turning dirty heaviness of Coffins. Yet, both are filed into the deathdoom box.

If it is true that a Japanese soul is often a mystery, then the souls of this Japanese trio ooze mystery and darkness in droves. Theirs is an oppressive kind too, if Buried Death is any indication. You could call this record “fun” to listen to, if palpable heaviness, the one shaking the inner spirit, appeals to you. Coffins explore the low frequency portion of the musical spectrum exclusively, where guitars are tuned to bass, and bass is altogether gone off the subsonic end. As dense and weighty as this record is, it hardly moves at a snail’s pace. Celtic Frost and the old school death metal of Autopsy are lot more a foundation for Coffins than Skepticism and Thergothon. Their music can even be stomping, with weights strapped directly to the ankles (title track), and their infectious slamming riffs have all of the elegance of an elephant who can’t get his ass turned around in the china shop (Altars in Gore). It is hard to call the music moving if it reminds you of the helicopter veering sideways about to crash (Deadly Sinners), but if you peel away the hefty top crust there is definitely melody lurking underneath the Coffins brand of thrash (Purgatorial Madness).

No question, a lot of this was meant to hurt, to smash the unsuspected weakling directly in the face right from the memorable Under the Stench get-go, pull out the veins, ligaments and grate them along on Cadaver Blood only to finally really slice the ears wide open on the re-recording of Mortification to Ruin. Uchino’s voice is below the bottom of the troph, if that is even possible, aided rarely by some hysterical screams. Coffins do throw solos at the listener, remember, this is death metal after all, even if the heaviness is on Winter levels and the lyrics are apparently straight from the book of Gore. Buzzsaw and brisk, the solo reaches a pinnacle on the tubed out version in Altars in Gore.

Slow-churning hateful mayhem of The Frozen Styx is a perfect ending to this skullcrusher, especially if you are seeking the soundtrack for bodypunching of your favorite enemies. I can’t imagine myself listening to this music twenty years ago when I was just starting with metal, but after the years of binging on the extreme Buried Death rested quite well on these ears.