Can these Spaniards’ sophomore full-length win both Most and Least Descriptive Title Of 2014? Brutish, barbarous, blackened death is exactly what you get from Teitanblood, whether the two-piece is stretching out to prodigious lengths (the nearly 17-minute, and thus playfully dubbed, “Silence Of The Great Martyrs”) or quickly cutting sections faster than fight movie editors. Musically, J and NSK are like a strain of early Venom or, yep, Death left to mutate, fester, and sour in a damp basement for decades. But that doesn’t really get at Teitanblood’s addictive duality. The playing has a straightforward punkiness to it, while the scope can accurately be described as “epic” without the need to point this writer towards a dictionary. On paper, that might look like an untamable mess of whammy-bar-snapping bloviating, but the opposite actually occurs: The “primitive,” by today’s tech death standards, musicianship ends up undercutting any pretension regarding the duo’s progressive intentions and you-gotta-earn-it, long build-ups. But, intellectualizing aside, it’s all about the vibe on this one. You can’t fake evil and Teitanblood are no occult illusionists. Death is what they promise, death is what you get. Final question: Is it yours, theirs, or mine? Uh … yes. –Ian [LISTEN]