Opening Invocation: The Blade Awakens

The instant a listener presses play, the first hymn erupts. Faces Of Terror kicks in with a raw instrumental intro. No extra bits. No soft edges. Just pure aggression and fury for twenty minutes, spread across five hymns, each one strikes with force, but joins as one potentially devastating blow.

Vomitile’s Face Of Terror digs deep into your mind. It burrows deep like a drill—drilling to the depths of the void. Face Of Terror is not for weak ears or the faint of heart.

This is not a casual offering, It’s a sharpened blade—packed with force, no mercy, wielded with intent.Furthermore, the listener will find that every riff serves a purpose, slices like razors. Drums are organic. Vocals bite and lead. They demand attention.

Grotesque Sound of Ritual Recording

Faces Of Terror is not a studio-polished release. It’s a ritual document, captured with urgency and intent. The band’s decision to self-record reflects their control over every sonic detail, reinforcing the underground ethos. From available details, this is a homemade EP, tracked entirely in Vomitile’s own studio, a space that has become a crucible for their sound. This autonomy allowed them to shape every tone, every mix decision, every vocal take without compromise.

The atmosphere and sound hits like a battlefield, war-torn, mechanical, unrepentant, hymns such as ‘DrillZone’ evoke machinery and industrial violence, “Grim Obsessions” slows the tempo, allowing dread to seep in. “Option Paralysis” channels chaos and mental collapse. Even the Slayer cover, “Dead Skin Mask,” is reinterpreted with a colder, more clinical edge, stripping away groove in favour of surgical brutality.

The result is a cohesive, aggressive slab of death metal, true to their Mediterranean roots and live reputation. Clarity without gloss—each instrument is audible, but never sterile.

Devilmanship: Guitars and Bass in Ritual Pulse

Vomitile delivers this flawless devilmanship that executes the instrumental composition and music arrangements. Vomitile’s guitar work stays locked tight, hostile riffs crafted atop a rhythmic foundation, the tone is dry, aggressive, and unpolished—no gloss, no reverb padding, built on classic death metal chug, but sharpened with modern precision. There’s no excess—every note is functional, every transition deliberate.

Tremolo passages are used sparingly, they inject cold urgency, especially in hymns like ‘DrillZone.’ The lead work is minimalist and surgical. Solos are short, scalpel-like bursts rather than melodic showcases.

The guitars sound like they were tracked in concrete, not velvet.

Vomitile’s bass lines are thick, low, and slightly fuzzy—never showy, always foundational. The bass shadows the guitars, reinforcing the riff structure without deviation, sitting beneath the guitar, adding weight without clutter.

The bass gives the EP its ritual gravity, anchoring the chaos with subterranean depth.