For those who were there, the Australian Metal scene of the early 1990’s, much in line with events happening all over the world, was a time of unity, head-rattling excitement and savage creativity. When I think of those days now, I think of lawless wolf children stalking the empty brick and glass canyons of Brisbane city, howl-ing and bellowing at the moon. Free of restraint and combusting with the dark fire of a musical movement that seemed limitless in where it could go. From the primal, monstrous chug of Britain, to America’s increasingly finely-honed technical precision, the rattling attack of Brazil, and like a malevolent distant wind, stirrings in Europe of a dark wave approaching. It was a crest period - a global push to take Metal further. A multi-fronted war on culture that laid the stones for this new, flourishing century. And Australia wasn’t afraid to step up. In the manner of the underdog, free of expectation or the eye of the world stage, dozens of bands would emerge- pushing outwards into the realms of what was possible. Pushing outwards through speed barriers, through tone density, through whatever rules had been laid down previously. Working, tape trading, putting together tours and shows on the strength of personal connections and faith.
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All for the glory and praise of this music that connected to us on a true, life-chang-ing level. And there is the difference between fame and glory. Fame is worthless - the ability to wave a pleasing trinket before a mob and receive your allotted ration of applause before being put back in the box you came out of. The pursuit of fools. Glory though - the glory of recognition from a community that believes in itself and it’s craft, that could not give a fuck about the vagaries of popular culture, that respects it’s artists, that doesn’t separate it’s audience from the people on the stage at any given time- this is the reward for those that would pursue the life of Metal. And in that world, in the twisting hills and clapboard houses of Brisbane, was Crypt. Nathan, Grant, Dave, Alan, Greg and Cliff were all contributors to the shambling, filth-caked monster known as Crypt.
A monster that seemed to appear fully formed- bursting into the arena of Australian metal like the jump scare from one of the horror films that the band drew so deeply from. The Excruciating Agony cassette was a calling card to be reckoned with. Raw and punishing, with Grant’s apocalyptic, rockslide vocals immediately grabbing the listener by the hair and pulling us through morbid tales of sacrifice, resurrection and vengeance. A maniacal crypt keeper, forcing stories of the dead upon us as the music- an unsettling combination of threshing, relentless rhythm and stabbing, precise guitar punctuated by near-psychedelic explosions of chaotic phaser-driven grind, took us on a stom-ach-churning descent into deep, foul caverns of sound.
The self titled Crypt e.p plunges further into the mist, widening the scope of atrocity beyond it’s graveyard origins into something that feels like a panic-ridden, rain soaked slasher pursuit. It’s the sound of running footsteps in empty, freezing midnight lanes. The sound of panicked eyes rolling back into the head. If Excruciating Agony and Crypt were like one the flickering, grainy extreme horror films that we would trade amongst ourselves, the El Nino was an evolutionary leap forward. Tighter, more focused, like a cruel machine. The skin rotting away from the bone, leaving the grinning, eternal skull. It’s teeth snapping as it creeps closer. It’s cold grip and it’s glaring, reddened eyes. No escape- no release from these delicious terrors. Aurally stripped back, cleaner and more direct in it’s assault, El Nino is the sound of a band whose skills have been honed by the hectic live shows that Crypt had been smashing the east coast of Australia with over the preceding four years. A band at their peak.
Which is where many bands could take a cue from Crypt. End it on a high note. Build to that point- make the thing what it should be, realise it’s deepest, most primal trajectory. And then kill it. But what beast in the landscape of the uncanny ever really remains dead? When these creatures are fuelled by our own darkness and fear, how can they remain in their tombs?
When a thing exists outside of the laws of nature, it is endless. Free of life, it is also free of death. And so it returns. CRYPT. Black of heart, lurking with ghoulish joy for both the forgetful and the true, it’s skeletal claws twitching. Madness, fearlessness, the smoke-thickened stench of black, sticky venues, the tinnitus ringing in the ears, the bruises and the puncture wounds, the speed and the horror and the glory. CRYPT. Putrid, undead, resurgent. It will never rest. It will never remain buried. The glory is theirs.
After going back into hibernation following a couple of East Coast tours in 2016 & 2017, CRYPT are returning once again for a special one-off performance to celebrate the 30th anniversary of the now legendary Excruciating Agony demo - ready to pulverise everything in their path!
