My old pal Jeremy hooked me up with this album about a decade ago, and it has remained in solid rotation ever since. A nice fat slab of death-y goodness is what we have here, a wall of continuous blastbeats flavored with tasty, slightly blackened, whole-chord tremolo riffs and then shoved right down your fucking throat without pomp or ceremony. Big, ugly, and fast. Quite simple, really.
Alas, there isn't much I can tell you about Scythe. They were from Southern California, and drum duties were held down by Brad Palmer, fresh off of tracking drums on Deeds of Flesh's Inbreeding the Anthropophagi. But that's where the trail goes cold. This was their only album, and fits nicely alongside other late 90's SoCal tech-death stuff like Deprecated, Disgorge, and the aforementioned Deeds. Nothing that's going to revolutionize your perception of death metal if you aren't already a fan, but a nifty addition if you are.