200 Stab Wounds pulls tricks like this throughout Manual Manic Procedures—setting patterns in motion, then upending them while you’re distracted by some musical sleight of hand. In “Defiled Gestation,” the missile scream of a pair of pinch harmonics flashes across the opening mid-tempo riff, and while you’re still partially blinded by the flare, the band pitches up the pace in mid-measure, launching into the song’s full-throttle attack a quarter-second or so earlier than it feels like they should. Even when they’re at cruising speed, they keep tinkering with the groove, finding new ways to voice the riff without losing momentum. Steve Buhl rips into “Release the Stench” with a melodic neon sneer of a solo that turns into a snarl before spinning out in aggression, his flailing knocking out the rest of the band and allowing them to reset the song as chopping sludge.
While these newly intricate arrangements could come off as a fussy overcorrection, the sophistication of the songwriting makes the changes mostly feel natural rather than forced or showy. The title track scrolls from knuckle-dragging X Games groove to staccato grindcore and then into old-school death-metal riffing so elegantly, you sense it more as a change in tone—wound-up testosterone and clenched-teeth tension giving way to ecstatic release—than form.
Andy Nelson’s rich, almost glossy production heightens the album’s fluidity. Without blowing the soundstage up to stadium proportions, the Weekend Nachos mastermind creates just enough space for the instruments to speak clearly to one another. The effect is like seeing being in a tiny club with a pristine sound system: When Buhl and Raymond MacDonald’s guitars chug together in “Gross Abuse,” the thickness is suffocating. They open things further in interlude “Led to the Chamber / Liquified,” whose light-blue keyboard melody haunts the track’s Argento abattoir synths like a naive specter. These are mostly subtle touches—minor adjustments to what was already a compelling aesthetic—that the band incorporates without sacrificing the swagger of Slave to the Scalpel.
At times, listening to Manual Manic Procedures can feel like being put through a death-metal HIIT workout: 25 reps of two-stepping, 25 reps around the circle pit, 25 reps of headbanging, Keep up, let’s empty the tank for the wall of death! But by offering themselves up to the blood of the crowd and allowing it to reshape how they fashion their music, 200 Stab Wounds makes their priorities clear. Manual Manic Procedures is vicious in its attitude and surgical in its precision, but at its pulpy core, it’s an album that wants you to dance.
All products featured on Pitchfork are independently selected by our editors. However, when you buy something through our retail links, we may earn an affiliate commission.