For many of us millennials, this is some of the hardest time of our lives right now. Multiple crises seem to be going on at any point of the year, making life even more expensive, miserable and depressing than it usually is. Considering that, it is baffling that not many bands seem to be honestly angry. Compared to the 90s, for example, where bands were either cynical, depressed or angry, contemporary art seems to more often divulge into a self-referential pastiche of cross-media allusions and heightened aesthetics. While Cancer Christ definitely fit the bill with their absurdly heightened and massively ironic image—the band consists of gimps wearing snake masks and is led by our lord and savior, Jesus Christ—the band is also a rare example of sounding absolutely honest in how pissed they are. Cancer Christ’s critique of conservative value is not very nuanced, but in its own way pretty clever. In the band’s own mythology, they seem to actually be Christians just that Christians are absolutely despicable people and very much opposed to what the average GOP-voting bible belt bumpkin would consider proper behavior. In Cancer Christ‘s warped denomination, our boys in blue are very much despised by the lord (“God hates Cops”), Jesus legitimizes his war crimes by the size of his genitalia (“Jesus Got A Big ‘Ol Cock”), and the death penalty applies mostly to those of the ruling class (“Bring back the Guillotine”). Satire has to hurt and Cancer Christ understand this—it is time to take off the velvet gloves.
Luckily, the music is similarly rambunctious. An odd but potently unique concoction of metallic hardcore, 90s nu metal and industrial allusions, power electronics, and the occasional rocking bit, God is Violence takes no prisoners. The band only very rarely steps off the gas and whenever they do, they come back heavier and dirtier immediately. The band’s strength is that they don’t take themselves very seriously, but also don’t put any part of their music on a pedestal. The band doesn’t care if people find the way the music is constructed to be silly or too over the top. A critique as blunt and vicious as this does not need nuance, but it rather needs an unstoppable amount of momentum. But even beyond the aggression, groove and odd electronic background bloops, the album is also incredibly catchy. Many of the album’s hook-lines have been stuck in my mind since the very moment I heard the album for the first time. I can’t imagine how fun a live show of this act must be: All the hooks are very easily shout-able and an audience well versed in this band’s perversions could turn any club into a desolate hxc wasteland.
While Christianity is far from the world’s biggest problem right now, Cancer Christ still feels like its songs would offend the average Christian more than any 2023 black metal act could. God is Violence is built to offend and it achieves this goal. And while Christianity might not be the source of modern society’s ills, it remains a potent tool for the people that are ruining our planet to catch votes and remain in power. Cancer Christ won’t change that, but maybe we can get some joy out of the resulting pearl clutching.
