Without a shadow of a fucking doubt, ''Hell to the Holy'' is one exciting, eerie, fucked up, atonal, and often disjointed record. That being said, you gotta be severely ignorant to call that a bad thing in the case of MPIRE OF EVIL. This is the return of VENOM. This is authentic, vintage, organic, and less than pretentious. Need I say more? It's exactly what it should be. It ain't trying to be anything it ain't. It kicks an impressive amount of ass in its own right, and gets to call the shots. It's that simple. This is the real fucking deal if you're a knowledgeable disciple of the oldschool incarnation of this particularly heavy, and often substantially bluesy approach to blackened thrash n'roll. This band gets to create their own sub-genre. They aren't a categorization victim; they're the creators of a movement of their own. What I especially admire about this release is that it does contain some moments in which you get the clear image of that smokey catacomb-like rehearsal room within which the members of this tribe bounce ideas off of each other; you certainly can pick up on the dedicated, filthy, and daring jam-out spirit. Some tracks fall into the pattern of verse-chorus-verse-solo-chorus, but even those seem to manage to get heavier, punchier, and grittier as they progress; the material we have here is escalating Anger of the rawest kind. That being said, even through this libertine labyrinth of demented musings, it's easy to single out those flashy riffs and leads that probably took enough of a long while to fully flesh out before they landed on the record; those works of art have a typically euro (a-la-JUDAS PRIEST) stamp upon 'em, and I also have to pinpoint the fact that this band's approach to crushingly heavy fucking doom is also masterful, reminding me of one Tony Iommi, compromising for no one. The Southern-tinged and whiskey-soaked upbeat pace that can be found in some of these tracks does correspond to the NWOBH tag, but MPIRE OF EVIL doesn't simply stick to the initial recipe; they take each inspiration they draw from, and fearlessly bend and twist 'em as much as they damn well please; the result is a sexually thrilling one.

''Hellspawn'' starts off on safe grounds with one fucking catchy structure that works instantly, and is also memorable in all departments. It's fairly short, but cuts to the chase; no dwellings, no valleys, it's bringing the goddamn goods in without wasting one second polishing them up, and it's just as well. This ''rough around the edges'' production and song structure is one that hails straight from the well-cherished memory of its inception; it doesn't bullshit, and it plain rocks. ''Metal Messiah'', instead of relying mostly on the strength of a main riff and tight rhythm section, progressively blossoms into one mind-blowing thrash metal track that is simply relentless, and its lead section is, by far, the most impressive one we have here. ''Waking Up Dead'' is more low-profile and pedestrian as it begins, albeit when it reaches its mid-section, the fact that it's also gonna be a moment to remember progressively turns into an absolute no brainer; the climax of its progression got me thinking it's a grower, rather than a simply bland/inferior approach. ''Hell to the Holy'' is pleasant in all departments. ''Snake Pit'' is one of those fucking unstoppable downward spirals of reeking putrefaction that never gets old, no matter how blatant it is (to just about anybody that's familiar with the genre) that it isn't exactly unheard of. It's one of those tracks that probably sticks out a lot more in a live setting, while experiencing the actual Snake Pit. Nevertheless, it fires on all cylinders. ''All Hail'' entwines dark melodies with a punchier, grittier flipside, and works brilliantly. ''Devil'' is one fucking creepy and scruffy moment of worship for the nature of the beast, being the fact that blues is an important component of the heart of this sub-genre. Kicking back and blasting this full volume, it's easy to let the focus shift into a transcendental state of mind you won't want to snap out of. ''Shockwave'' is a badass, devoid-of-any-and-all-ties kick in the face. It's adrenaline on overload, and it's one skillfully developed piece of mofo, let me tell ya. And just as I had to tilt my head, wondering if things would ever go downhill for this disc, ''The 8th Gate'' answered my question; the damn thing was, at that point, fully intent on making me dive straight into the depths of my BLACK SABBATH worship. This particularly lengthy (8:27) track is stubborn in the department of getting more and more macabre with each and every next statement it makes. Its main riff is highly reminiscent of how doom sounded back when it wasn't intentionally played *as* doom, back when some things naturally turned out to be ecstatically fucking dark, straight out of the woodwork. And *that* is one majestuous way to get my nostalgia going. ''Mpire (Prelude)'' is fucking tasty and heavier than seven buildings crashing on the back of one's throat. I wouldn't've ended the album any other way.

Final verdict? This is a thing of beauty, for one bold reason; it ain't trying to be. Don't discredit authenticity; learn from it.

RATING: 8.5/10

-Noch