If albums were judged on the shock factor of their cover art alone, Copremesis Muay Thai Ladyboys would leave everyone else in the dust. If you were to handle the disc by its centerhole you would find your finger stuck … in the she-male asshole. The theme continues, the booklet having more photographs on the she-male sexuality topic, and some of these would score high marks on the appropriate websites. The point is made, and the gauntlet is certainly thrown strongly. If only music content matched the graphics strength …

There was no guarantee I would have liked the album if it was done perfectly. Granted, New York City’s Copremesis is pushing the limits of brutality I do not cross often. However, hereby I am trying to judge this not on how much I am into the deathgrind style, but on how well I think the album was put together, and I can’t help, but blame the failures on the terrible mix. Sure enough, if technical superbrutal death metal is not something you could stomach, you absolutely have to keep your listening senses hidden from Muay Thai Ladyboys, yet you could be missing on some very technical, almost progressive, yet utterly chaotic, music. Bestial Castration and Push certainly qualify. Further on, Mustache disembowels, Mad, fittingly, throws a brutal fit of rage, and Zombie tries to gather those remaining into a steadying circle pit.

Sadly, unless you really try, you may not hear any of this, as for whatever reason Copremesis, or their mixing/mastering folks, thought that vocals have to be pushed way up to the forefront. As a result, bottom-of-the-gutter brutal, they cover everything up with their illegible muck. Not that there was much variation between the songs to begin with, but now everything sounds like the screech of the Jurassic dinosaur or boiling of the overheated pot about to jump off the stove. If you ask me, this would have been much better without vocals altogether. The booklet does not have the lyrics anyway, and the omnisexual challenge thrown by the band lyrically cannot be possibly deciphered without them, even if you had a million linguists and hearing specialists on staff. Also, going vocal-less could have pushed Copremesis to concentrate further on the riffs being more diverse.

The closer, Tetsuo, consisting of two parts (covers?) makes a huge difference as finally, 30 min after the album begins, the vocal style is switched to no less brutal, but more conventional, less funeral-doom-spoken-fast, death metal style, and the song(s) benefit tremendously, the dark ominous slam bringing the message home.

This may be legendary in NYC, but I have the feeling the Copremesis legend has wings only amongst selected circle initiated few.