ALBUM REVIEW: Exocrine – The Hybrid Sons


Strap yourselves in, folks.

Exocrine, the progressive technical death metal goliaths hailing from France have penned an absolutely earth-shattering colossus that redefines the term “heavy” and wholeheartedly challenged this author to find enough synonyms to accurately depict the sheer destructive chaos The Hybrid Suns (Unique Leader) leaves in its wake.

Nothing about this record is done at anything less than 100 percent: the vocals can penetrate the defenses at Fort Knox; the guitar blasts are gut punches thrown by Israel Adesanya; the bass drum is reincarnated as a vertical ceiling fan.


Put simply: The Hybrid Suns shakes metal to its core and reduces everything released before it to bubblegum pop. Jordy Besse commands attention and refuses to hear otherwise. He is at his mightiest on tracks ‘Horns’ and ‘End Of Time.’ His circular-saw vocals devolve into barbed wire on steroids on ‘Watchtower.’ It’s the type of imposing delivery that leaves grizzly bears cowering in fear.


There is an understated symphonic presence, a sort of offering one would give to a captive – a sip or two of fresh drinking water before the prisoner returns to the torture rack.

Exocrine have no time or desire to ease into their fifth release. No acoustic introduction, no somber offering with which the album begins to manifest. Instead, the title track is equal parts atmospheric and hectically technical. From 0:01, the song is violent, pitiless and reckless.


Three-fourths of Exocrine are original members (barring drummer Théo Gendron), and that staying power has allowed the band to polish and refine the brand of proggy tech-death they’re working towards. The Frenchmen have been workhorses since their 2013 inception, and the passage of time merely builds their arsenal.


If you were anticipating debilitating riffs, pockmarking drum detonations and razor-sharp grunting, you’re in luck. Exocrine grab you by your head and pound your skull into shards of bone matter. Your insides will instantaneously boil, evaporate and cease to exist. It’s the musical equivalent of the eruption of Mount Vesuvius. Hell, it might even make Pompeii seem like a vacation destination in comparison.


Buy the album here:


9 / 10