Fister + Gemini

What DO they put in the angel dust over there in St. Louis, anyways??  Seriously, for those of you who have never tried the shit, don’t.  It’s for fucking pussies.  Fister’s latest, Gemini, however…  It’ll fry your brain worse than a lab rat at Sandoz.

You’ve got to give these devils their due: There’s a certain degree of difficulty involved when one is dealing with “blackened” anything.  Mixing it together with crust, “sludge”, dissonant noise, fractal geometry and bizarre orchestral passages…  It’s easy to imagine this sort of recipe blowing up in your face, burning the house down and reducing the neighbourhood to shame.  …nevermind the fact that even the description of such a thing is enough to get the music police breaking down your front door for thinking of such a thing in the first place.

It works because over the course of their last couple of albums, Fister have developed a steady hand and frankly, don’t give a fuck about the consequences.  The ugly truth is that as much as Gemini is made for street consumption, Fister forgot lesson number two a long time ago:  ”Don’t get high off your own supply”.  They made this stuff for themselves as much as anyone else and it’s this sort of conviction that makes this album a work of evil genius.

I’m not ashamed to say that personally, I’m long past the recreational stage when it comes to Fister.  Over the past couple of years, these guys have tweaked the secret recipe to the point that I’m hopelessly addicted.  I’ve lost my socks, my keys and my sanity a long time ago.  I’ve seriously given thought to driving to fucking Missouri to hear these fuckers on their home turf.  …from Toronto.  Seriously.  …and that was BEFORE Gemini came out.

Goddamn the pusher man.  Amen.

RATING 4.0 / 5

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