"What is death metal?” you may ask. (If you wouldn’t because you don’t need to, you can skip this next bit.) “Is that, like, Slayer or something?” No. I mean, yes, pretty much every metal band still working owes a signifigant debt to Slayer, so it’s like Slayer in that sense, but Slayer really qualifies as a sort of speed-metal/thrash-metal band with a lot of idosyncratic qualities that sort of predict what death metal’s going to be all about. And while it’s beyond our scope to trace the branches of the heavy metal tree from the coining of the term on down to the present day, we can tell you this much: death metal is the kind of metal where the screaming does its best to avoid the girl-on-a-rollercoaster falsetto favored by the black metal bands. It’s the kind that values guitar and drum speed above all else, so much so that it’s practically grounds for exclusion from the genre if the band’s drummer doesn’t use two kickdrums at all times. Death metal is the kind of metal that concerns itself less with Satan and religious evil and more with more organic, immediate, physical concerns. Like death. And pain. And things that rot.