Jul 10

Jul 10 Classic Album Review : Cryptopsy - None So Vile (1996)

Cannibal Corpse weren’t the first metal band to borrow from horror movies, but they were the first to feel like one. A grainy, fucked-up VHS of a film that should’ve stayed buried in some Florida swamp. For a handful of years, they seemed like the logical endpoint of extreme music. You couldn’t get heavier. You couldn’t get grosser. You couldn’t get more. Then a little-known death metal band from Montreal put out a record that felt like something way more fucked up horror-inspired music.

It felt like found footage of a serial killer in action. Like someone had hit record mid-homicide and decided to turn it into art. That album is None So Vile by Cryptopsy and it changed everything.

None So Vile was released on July 3rd, 1996, it featured eight songs and thirty-two minutes of music that is as ridiculously brutal as it is precise. It’s one of the most influential death metal records ever made. Not just because it was heavier, faster, or more technical than everything else (it totally was), but because it stripped the genre of any remaining illusions of restraint. This wasn’t a band trying to impress you with how brutal they were. They were not being dramatic about it. They were cut throat.

None So Vile proved that sounding completely unhinged didn’t mean sounding sloppy. That extraordinary talent and unchecked anger could not only coexist, but add up to create something new.

One of the most arresting things about None So Vile is the tension at its core: Lord Worm’s unhinged, intuitive vocal performance crashing against Jon Levasseur’s byzantine, galaxy-brained songwriting. On paper, it shouldn’t work. The vocals are the sound of a man actively losing his mind. The instruments are being played with a Lovecraftian sense of scope. Cryptopsy is machine gunning new and exciting ideas that have become mainstays in metal since.

It’s the contradiction that makes it unforgettable. The appearance of chaos layered over a foundation of surgical precision. That kind of push-pull, between complete emotional abandon and total instrumental control, wasn’t just rare in 1996. It was unimaginable in death metal. Bands specialized in either one or the other. And no one has replicated that exact chemical imbalance with the same ferocious creative energy since.

None So Vile blew past the limits of what death metal was supposed to sound like. This wasn’t about taking a formula and refining it, this was a total system failure, in the best way possible. You can hear grindcore’s raw violence in the breakdown in Graves of the Fathers, jazz’s rhythmic elasticity and free flowing creativity in the bass break of Slit Your Guts, there are expertly placed samples, even the jagged unpredictability of noise music creeping in at the edges and through Lord Worm’s ghoulish and animalistic vocals.

He doesn’t just growl or scream: he gurgles, he hisses, he exhales like a demon who lives inside the walls of your house. The texture he adds is grotesque and strangely beautiful, like mold in bloom. It’s one of the few performances in extreme metal that creates a whole different emotional temperature. Without him, the music might still overwhelm you. But with him, it seeps into your unconscious. There’s a feeling of wrongness on None So Vile that few records managed to rival.

While I love at least half the songs on this record the way a father loves his kids (unconditionally, but for different reasons) Phobophile has always been my favorite. There’s something unshakable about it. Levasseur and Flo Mounier sound like they’re arguing in real time, sprinting through a haunted mansion while Lord Worm howls behind them, equal parts predator and poltergeist. I'm no drum savant, but Mounier's versatile and eclectric game has always been like a big part of the band's appeal for me.

The classical piano intro sets the tone with this eerie, theatrical flourish, less spooky for the sake of mood and more like it’s summoning something older and unknowable. It makes the song feel like a ritual. Phobophile evokes clearer imagery than most of the album, but that imagery never settles. It shifts and decays as Levasseur twists and turves. There’s a cosmic horror to it, like this exact arrangement of sounds has always existed somewhere, and Cryptopsy just tuned into the right frequency.

Graves of the Fathers has this raw violence and these murderous grooves that makes it also unforgettable.It's not just heavy or agressive. It’s homicide music. Crown of Horns sets the mood perfectly from the get go. The intro is ironic and mocking, like it knows exactly what’s coming and dares you to flinch. And then Lord Worm kicks the gates open with full-blown feral energy. This is also one of Flo Mounier’s standout tracks. He’s playful, inventive, almost improvisational in the way he bends the chaos to his will.

Slit Your Guts is also iconic. It ricochets between sleazy, low-slung death metal riffs and these sudden, spiraling moments of Levasseur genius. And then there’s that bass break, Eric Langlois dropping in like a sewer ghost with a jazz degree. It’s greasy, groovy, and weirdly elegant. Just like the record itself. Orgiastic Disembowelment is (to me) the other standout track on None So Vile as it alternates between furious straightforwardness and otherworldly complexity. It's an endurance test.

Some death metal fans still hold a grudge against Cryptopsy for never making another None So Vile, and honestly, that grudge is fucking stupid. The band has changed, 75% of the lineup is different now, and even if it hadn’t, you only get gut-punched like this once. They did make another record with Lord Worm afterward, and it wasn’t nearly as good. Not because they lost the magic, but because if there were ever going to be another album this powerful, it would have to sound nothing like None So Vile.

This record is a classic because it didn’t just stretch boundaries, it shattered them, torched them, and danced in the flames. And every time you come back to it, you feel that same rush of transgression. That same thrill of something sacred being desecrated with style. The band would have to find other boundaries to massacre in order to make it this magical again.

Expecting Cryptopsy to repeat that moment is like asking a bomb to reassemble itself. They’re still out there making killer music nearly thirty years later. You can either embrace that evolution, or just keep listening to None So Vile on loop like I just did for this review and feel lucky you lived through the blast.