What entities comprise Blackwinds? Black metal legends, maybe? Perhaps a group of underground youngsters partaking in tomorrow’s revolution? If you’re certain one of those answers is correct, please reread; the answer lurks beneath it all, for the truth can be hard to find. Instead, Blackwinds doesn’t match either description, but with good reasoning on both sides of the argument: their constant redundancy, plaguing unoriginality, and pointless plodding. Yes, this all happens within “Flesh Inferno,” from its initiation until that little conclusion rolls around, after much time has passed. Still, I can almost guarantee you’ll exit “Flesh Inferno” displeased, because energy does not thrive besides that sick album cover some would potentially foresee leaking greatness, although it definitely does not.

Needless to say, “Flesh Inferno” simply reflects black metal’s usual qualities without bringing anything new into our blackened chapels. Dull tremolo picking and expected riffs made from speed and relentless finger-madness explode when alone in the universe, while blasting percussion evens out with punch-filled pedal hits alongside a fill once in a solar eclipse; add a timid bass, and Blackwinds’ universe has now been born. Unfortunately, that’s really “Flesh Inferno,” in its whole form, birth to death. Forget about special aspects or some original reuptake, because minimal instances of that nature survive beyond blandness. Nothing extraordinary or incredible; just black metal, like we’ve all experienced beforehand.

Redundancy continues on in several plains our friends from Blackwinds probably could not foresee throughout their various processes of writing and recording. “Flesh Inferno” contains ten songs, making the listen last almost sixty minutes; like some stupid show you don’t care about, it meanders and meanders until sleep arrives. However, I must say there seems a little attraction kindly guides the vocal attack between the fumes “Flesh Inferno” releases, even despite its lackluster armpits. Of course, hearing a nice shriek on consistent perimeters won’t force a few glasses of rage down my esophagus, but then again, everything else fails on its own special levels, so there you have it: A moribund release from Blackwinds. Splat!

We received what it looks like: another black metal CD. Black metal riffs, blastbeats, shrieks…we get it. I wish Blackwinds would review their material, or perhaps ponder what’s upon the forefront; instead, vanilla-smeared black metal. In a truthful stint, “Flesh Inferno” makes me stand back with my nose pinched, for the burning skin can be quite rancid upon first sniff; if you try again, you’ll probably receive another taste of nostril-frying dung. Evade this record if it trucks towards you, but some might find the album a little fun, at least for a handful of listens. Still, I’d take countless releases over “Flesh Inferno,” without question.