GRAVEYARD, Philosophies of the Reality and Displaced Souls (1997, demo)
A lazier BDS you’d be hard pressed to find, but I’ll give them the logo: it’s pretty cool. About the only thing I can think to say about this skull is that it looks a little like it’s sporting some weird hipster moustache/sideburns kinda thing. I really can’t explain what that fuzz on the skull’s left could be besides douchey facial hair, but maybe the lesson here (and the connection to at least the last half of the title) is that neither heaven nor hell can abide by ironic whiskers.
Trying to parse this title, you would naturally be forgiven for assuming this Graveyard (of the many, many Graveyards) spoke English as a second language, but no, they hailed from New York and evidently just weren’t very good with words. For what it’s worth, they didn’t much play music like Americans either, sounding more like fourth rate Swedes peddling sloppy and disorganized death metal with occasional doomy touches. Which is to say, they sounded like a really bad Furbowl, and that’s no one’s idea of a good time. Honestly, I can get behind the basic vibe here, but the playing is so bad and the songs so drowning in incompetent blasting that the good riffs are like island oases in a sea of shit. The vocals have an appealing L.G. Petrovian sound to them, but when the vocals are the best thing about your death metal band (hello Comecon!) you should really just stop. This was the last Graveyard demo before they were laid to rest, unsigned and unloved, and for everyone’s sake I hope they enrolled in some GED prep classes in their free time thereafter.
— Friar Johnsen