Century reviewed
Century
Black Ocean
(Prosthetic)
Carson Slovak’s tightly wound Century manage to create space for themselves on their third album, though, in accordance with some prevailing scientific theories, that space is finite.
Black Ocean is like a film whose action unravels in reverse — think Memento blast-forwarded, as if a copper coil had been painstakingly unraveled offscreen and pressing play caused it to spring to its original shape. Loosely labeled grindcore, Century are a couple branches down the tree from Pantera with hints of Fucked Up, but exponentially more jealously controlled (or as filtered through Helmet and Napalm Death). Perfectly executed feedback (title track), jangled open notes (“Rising Sun”), and epic swirls (“Monolith”) are only a handful of the post punk tricks placed throughout Black Ocean‘s 33-minute whiplash, but they make all the difference in a genre that seems to get off on its limitations.
— Steve Forstneger
