DECREPIT BIRTH
DIMINISHING BETWEEN WORLDS
UNIQUE LEADER RECORDS
WORDS: CHRISTOPHER THOMPSON

In a forest you're not so alone, because you know what a forest looks like like. The idea, the impression of forest, is familiar to you. The same could be said for hell. If you're lost there, at least you have some standard of aesthetic to fall back on, and some expectation of lore to gather, amongst your undoubted suffering. The human race, through math and science and adventure, is slowly understanding space and its various darknesses. We're getting (relatively) close to mapping it all out, demystifying it and making it familiar. Which leaves alternate dimensions the last realm of the unknown, the last bastion of being completely mind fucked. So obviously Decrepit Birth would try to build a blueprint for this final final frontier. In the process, they have created a portrait of the state of a mind witnessing the impossible.

There is nothing necessarily new or experimental about Diminishing Between Worlds. Considering Decrepit Birth's two-album history, though, it is a quantum-dimensional leap forward. Gone is the narrow range of sound and unforgiving brutality, replaced by guitar virtuosity of galactic proportions. Aching clarity and high-mix volume bring guitarist Matt Sotelo to the forefront of this record. No longer content to be merely a talented band, Decrepit Birth now demand your attention.

All across the board, this new style of playing first and foremost recalls Chuck Schuldiner, leader of the band Death and the lionized godfather of death metal. He was one of those guitar players that almost justified all the smug bullshit that comes with walking through a Guitar Center. But outside of the dripping confidence that comes with being a living legend, Matt Sotelo has taken all aspects Chucks sophistication and extended them into the realm of modern death metal unlike anyone who has become between. In some sort of hyperreality where Death never lost a bit of their original aggression and instead it grow to volcanic levels, this record exists.

An addiction forms over time. Very rare in the album do the dueling melodic lines ever mimic each other. The dynamics are unprecedented. You are falling witness to beauty soaring through the upper registers just as often as you are being pummeled in the gut, which is the central and dichotomous hook of the record. The songs are constantly exploding. Just as opener “The Living Doorway” starts breathlessly, without a hint of a warning, you experience at least five fully developed ideas within the first 20 seconds. The technical agility required to change direction on this dime can only make you wonder how they can remember how to play these songs at all.