Hard work deserves appreciation but the fruits of that hard work only deserve the coldest of scrutiny. The former is an attribute of human perseverance, sometimes in the face of indomitable odds and as such is a process worthy of admiration on some ossified, unfeeling level. The results of this hard work, however, may vary wildly based on the individual’s predilections and aspirations at the outset of his journey, and as such need not be something that can be universally identified with. Unfortunately, music fans conflate these two ends of the spectrum, automatically equating hard work with quality art when the two couldn’t be farther apart from each other. It is entirely possible to respect the first while dismissing the latter out of hand.

Fagcore band Demonic Re$urrection from India have been peddling their brand of unimaginative symphonic, distorted music for the better part of fifteen years. The band has released four full length albums and has toured across Europe, playing at various festivals to applause. Fifteen years playing metal, dubiously though it may be to these ears, in India is a long time indeed and to the extent of kids living out their rock n’ roll dreams on the big stage, it even deserves an indulgent smile. Nobody begrudges Demonic Res$urrection their success; long may it continue and may they pull in all the money and fame and charms of syphilis-carrying women that ever their lamb hearts hankered after.

Demonic Re$urrection‘s influences are easy enough to see through; layer the overt cheesiness of keyboard-soaked Dimmu Borgir and Cradle Of Filth over wispy, barely-heard guitars that carry the reek of kebab-on-a-stick Behemoth or Nile, and some of the twiddle-dee-twiddle-doo flatulence of tech-death bands. As if the dissonance wasn’t overwhelming already, inject pitiable attempts at clean singing not unlike what a band like Borknagar used to do in the 90s. Haphazard transitions and obvious breakdowns will abound, and through it all are evident three things: (a) the emo-esque lack of balls, (b) the absence of anything substantial to communicate through the music, and (c) overcoming the inability to say anything substantial by inserting random, cookie-cutter parts designed to appeal to less-discerning listeners.

Of themselves, all of these things are fairly innocuous though injurious to the future health of metal. Speak a lie long enough and loud enough, and it eventually becomes the truth. As mentioned on these pages elsewhere, a band like Demonic Re$urrection gets a free pass everywhere, in India and abroad, because “…To metal fans in far away lands, Demonic Re$urrection will stand out solely because it is a case of natives asserting control over a foreign style of music. The Exotic India syndrome – elephants, snake-charmers, and red dots included – is the reason why a frankly terrible band like Demonic Re$urrection even registers in international consciousness. But the vast majority of metal fans are as idiotic as your average Britney Spears devotee, and to expect them to know their navel from their arsehole, let alone exercise objectivity and judicious bias, is foolhardy in the extreme.”

Look far and wide across the internet, but you will be hard-pressed to find more than a couple of less-than-flattering descriptions of this band’s music. What gives here? Could Demonic Re$urrection truly be the second coming of In The Nightside Eclipse? Why are writers so hesitant to trample down on mediocrity and nip it in the bud before it blooms into some kind of miasmic mushroom cloud? No person who has heard enough of this music with a ticking heart can see this for anything less or more than what it is, then why is the world afraid of offending feeble sensibilities with the disclaimer of hard work? What’s more, why do hipster fans of this fagcore band feel so done in by one of the few sites that actually has a word or ten to say against it? Are we all to sing hosannas in unison, forever patronize and be giddy at the prospect of the third world rising? Fuck that, fuck friendship, and fuck the colour of your skin. Treat the music on its own terms.