As a genre, metal has made an incredible amount of progress over the past decade. Denver County Death March couldn't give a fuck. Not that the band needs to: Packing meat-hook riffs and more misanthropy than a serial-killer convention, the foursome uses its self-titled full-length as a blistering tirade against everything it can't stand, including Hannah Montana, the oil industry and anyone unlucky enough to be standing in the way. Pieced together out of bits of grindcore and vintage thrash/hardcore crossover, the disc's eleven songs hit like fistfuls of sludge. It's also fun and cathartic as hell — that is, if you consider a good, hearty shit cathartic. Sloppy, stupid, poorly recorded, probably drunk and most definitely uncompromising, Denver County Death March is remedial basement metal of the highest — make that the lowest — order.
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