Listening to Epiphanic Delusions of a Spiritual Warfare, Trucido’s second full-length album, is what I imagine it would’ve felt like to be shot and run over by the Killdozer. It is a frantic stream of consciousness concept album that packs a whole lot of destruction and chaos into 16 minutes, and while a cynical listener might remark that the album is compositionally straightforward, this would be like saying that a sledgehammer hits things really hard. Each track is an explosive and devastating aural assault that is over before you know it. When the dust clears, there is nothing left but smoking rubble and a four-count stick click to signal the next barrage.
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For the uninitiated, Trucido is a Dallas-based grindcore quartet whose members have played in roughly a dozen bands in the genre, including well-known acts such as Gridlink and Cognizant. Unlike those bands, though, Trucido largely eschews technicality for sheer brutality. Their 2022 debut, A Collection of Self Destruction, was a potent opening salvo, but Epiphanic Delusions is the next (d)evolution of Trucido’s sound. The band has never sounded this relentless or menacing, thanks in part to the unholy audio magic performed by guitarist Irving Lopez, who doubles (triples?) as the band’s producer and engineer. He quite literally handles everything in-house, recording Trucido’s gnarly racket in his garage and mixing the album in his bedroom studio. Whatever sordid work he performs there is paying off, because Epiphanic Delusions gives the impression that it is not simply being heard but is somehow alive and pissed off and punching its way into your eardrums.
Grind fiends may already be familiar with drummer extraordinaire Bryan Fajardo, who hammers away at his kit with inhuman power and dexterity. On “Grief Whore,” he unleashes tight bursts of blastbeats before slowing down just enough to call in huge, pit-annihilating stomps. And the rest of the band is more than happy to oblige. Lopez fires riff after incendiary riff straight at your dome, reducing your skull and grey matter to molten slurry. “Simulation of Hope” even goes full death metal with Lopez shifting from a downtuned tremolo groove to a flurry of explosive strikes. Not to be outdone, Eduardo Hoyos’ bass tone probably violates some kind of Texas noise ordinance or obscenity law. Just listen to that sleazy growl throughout “Shapeless Thief” with a straight, un-stanked face. You can’t. And speaking of growls, we have the formidable Alejandro Ramirez on the mic, a man whose bloodthirsty bellows, gurgles, and shrieks carry the kind of menace commanded by a lumbering slime monster about to make you its next meal. Maybe the twisted figures on the album cover are people who were ingested and then—well, I’ll let the album and your imagination fill in the rest.
In the time it took you to read this review, you could’ve listened to most of Epiphanic Delusions of a Spiritual Warfare, and if you weren’t already doing that, you should fix that now. It is a sickening thrill ride that should not be missed by grindcore fans. It doesn’t reinvent the wheel but is perfectly content to beat you to death with it.
–Alex Chan
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Epiphanic Delusions of a Spiritual Warfare is available now.