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WORMED ‘Omegon’ Album Review – Lambgoat

WORMED ‘Omegon’ Album Review – Lambgoat

I will always have a place in my heart for Planisphæriumthe 2003 album by the Spanish Dewormed. It was a formative, canonical event if you will, that hit me like a supermassive black hole in 2007 when I was 18 and fully committed to exploring extreme metal more and more. But if I’m honest, it’s awful to go back to the rawer production, alienating amount of technicality and impossibly cracked vocals, but the nostalgia carries it heavy for me.

Since then, Wormed have moved on a bit, tightening up their writing and melodies without betraying their overly technical prowess, and a cleaner, cleaner production that goes a long way toward making more recent albums palatable. Eight years later Krighsuwhat may be their best effort yet gives us Omegonan album that is as Wormed as it gets, but a bit more tucked in compared to their earlier years, a goal the band themselves also strive for.

That’s a blessing these days. Modern problems require modern solutions and all that, and while Omegon still sounds like an intergalactic alien gangbang (we’ve been beyond the pale for decades), but it does so with a finesse and atmosphere that ultimately wins me and hopefully a few new fans over. It only takes two tracks for Wormed to show what they’ve got. “Pareidolia Robotica” is adorned with modulated robotic vocals that utter lyrics that reference Phillip K. Dick (“Pareidolia robotica/Devices dream of electric sheep”) and an ominous tone that something is amiss. It’s not – Omegon is a concept album that continues the story of Krighsu, the last human in the known cosmos, who goes to war to unravel the mysteries behind the powerful substance the album is named after.

None of this is necessary to get into it. A strength of a band like Wormed is making music so performance-intensive and oppressively intricate that it feels like a rhythmic EMP to your squishy brain computer. As such, the trappings of each song help it stand out from other tech death bands, but even the meat and potatoes of the music feel fresh and intentional. Wormed’s fingerprint is unique as hell—once you know it, you’re as loyal and receptive to it as your phone is to your own.

“Protogod” is an explosive frenzy of notes, but the back half is the most interesting as the veil of order parts and we’re given this haunting chant of “protogod of inception”, every syllable punctuated by rolls of drums and menacing guitars before the full weight of the instrumentation melts away your synapses for a sweeping outro. “Malignant Nexus” is a great interlude that’s mostly an expository bridge between the album’s halves, but it’s ominous and dark, soaring fatal ultimatums mangled via the same robotic voice as before with some truly sinister and understated guitars that melt away and go slightly out of tune at the end.

The entire back half of Omegon makes up for the buildup with a massive chunk of tech death with, you guessed it, more song names you only see in quantum physics PhDs or Star Trek fanfics. “Virtual Teratogenesis” has a beautiful melodic throughline at the end that’s very repeatable. The first time I heard it, I literally didn’t let the next song start for 15 minutes. It’s as heavenly as they come for music this heavy on spine-tingling emotionality, and shows just how little humanity Omegon chooses to display. Damn, it’s good. The title track closes out the album with perhaps the most robust atmosphere and progression yet. It’s over seven minutes long, making it the longest Wormed song they’ve put to tape that I’m aware of, a delicacy of pounding and punching that brings the album, and me, to a climax. Did Krighsu win? I literally can’t tell and I have the lyrics. I feel like the duality between victory and defeat goes a bit too far for a Wormed story.

Omegon is a remarkably good album from a remarkably deranged band, an unwavering and unpredictable stalwart of the techie set, even when it sometimes works to their detriment. As I said before, over the years and five projects worth of songs the band has really nailed who and what they are, staying true to their roots but always repeating in a way that makes their work much appreciated and anticipated. I hope there never comes a day when I’m not giddily excited to hear a new Wormed album, nor do I long for the euphoria I get after it blasts me with transhypergravitational tetra-rays to stop visiting me.

Conclusion: I love this nerdy shit. Omegon is certainly one of the best tech deaths of the year so far, as is every Wormed album in any given year it comes out. It’s no wonder these albums take so long to make – they require dedication and Matrix-level calculation to get just right, and while they’re not perfect, what equation or scientific method is? The point is the process, the feel of it all, the mind-blowing exuberance, and Wormed has all of that in spades.