"Concrete Realms of Pain"

By Octopi Mills

What can I tell you about Caskets Open that hasn't already been cleverly boasted in the promotional notes that accompany the campaign of their newest album, “Concrete Realms of Pain”? We are told that they out did themselves this time, but have they? And in what manner, exactly? This I cannot tell you outright. But perhaps I can cover it with you, painfully and as slowly as the thing itself. 

I know we have a sort of mixture of modern sounding doom metal and aspects of punk and heavy metal and it is done from a Finnish group of fellows- this is surely true. But as time goes on, I cannot find a melody or moment that weighs more than the dead end feeling one gets from listening to the music, and it is as if one is riding on a long trip with a stranger through a never ending series of mundane plains and yellowed fields. As if one is being taken away to face a prison sentence somewhere in a bad dream. There is no true identity to the captor nor is there a real course or strong conviction to separate the travel images from that of mere sign posts or blurry symbols that dominate the side of the vision. "Riding on a Rotten Horse" tells all, and is quite telling of the tale in itself. When one is faced with the listening and the time that passes was done to me in dread of facing the next moment, so in such a way it is doom and dreaded in the way that the true sense of these words would be arranged.

It's not like a ride with a handsy pervert who clutches the passenger and pinches with claw like hands but rather the slow ride one endures with someone who you are told is your family member yet you've never met or never existed at all. The meaning of the ride with such a stranger might be to go to a funeral or a prison they have prepared for you for crimes that were innocent and pastoral. 

There's an old saying that if you don't have anything nice to say, then you shouldn't say anything at all. This being said, I can proceed knowing that whoever came up with this sort of saying must have never been in the ride I received here, or they were better than your current author in dealing with these said social graces. If you find yourself quarantined into a scenario with this album I would advise to just let it sit and be, and maybe pretend it didn't really happen. I don't know if it is to be pressed on vinyl but would find it lays less in favor of the times than the pressing of a ham sandwich by some stranger's hand, and as much so as the pressed pulp of my lucid head cheese.