Essentially the soundtrack to an angelic fall from grace, Primitive Man is Denver, Colorado’s looming presence that can never get footing off the listener. From the bone crunch of the first moments, the self-titled track Scorn is a burning effigy to false hope. Immaculate in scope and grandeur, the lyrics posted on their BandCamp page describes, “No one is listening, No one fucking cares.” A dramatic, but a realistic description of the void that is harsh on the ears through screams and violent intent. As the production of the record which features a mostly grindhouse type of performance, Primitive Man takes Scorn on a traceable ride through blood-soaked suffering.
It is slightly difficult to classify Scorn, as the droning amp reverb and the wails that act as vocals are similar to a black metal group, but they never really show that sense of vein. The lyrical content is there with a majority of the orchestrations being shadowed figures that haunt the listener. With one track, ”Antietam” begs for a reprieve but is unable to find it, describing, “My hell lives inside of a brick house. Windowless, full of noise that bleeds out from the bullet hole in the sides of my fucking head…”
When suicide metal comes to mind, the drooping eyelids that shake and tremble from the quickened, but destructive nature of “Stretched Thin” where Primitive Man causes more havoc with each measure. This track is one of the best reflective pieces and can prominently display exactly what makes Scorn feel so dangerous. The writhing screeches from the amplifier as the guitars give feedback and the percussion smashes alongside; Primitive Man is sin through sound. The entire record sculpts this immoral and almost inhumane emotional attachment similar to seeing a catastrophe unfold, Scorn is nearly impossible to turn away from once it begins.
And this reigns true for the bonus digital tracks featured with “Innard$” especially, even though the track is entirely noise, this chaotic undertone exists. The track scores like a found footage tape of every horror movie before the killing begins, creating immense suspense and actually works well as an introduction to the record played before the title track. It creates disorder but somehow organizes and fits the terror into an indigestible box.
When Scorn finally reaches the end of its lifespan, the master lays vanquished but not unscathed. Where immense torture exists through the run time of nearly an hour, each second spent with Primitive Man is a visitor’s guide to the Nine Circles of Hell.