Combat Records - 1988
9/10
For years, the second Death record almost acted as the standard death metal record that popped into my head whenever the genre was mentioned. This would be before I fell in love with their debut, but I’ll save the spiel. Leprosy is one of those weird instances where one thing is cleaned up while another is compromised, yet there’s very little to complain about. While somewhat of an extension of Scream Bloody Gore a year prior, there’s a more compact feeling with only the smallest hint of an ear for rhythmic superiority.
How this plays out in the long run is favorable, however the spillover prevents Bill Andrews from picking up where Chris Reifert left off, in my humblest of opinions. Thus, the drumming feels like it struggles to keep up with the leads, and they ride on a similar track for the entire train ride. It also could have stood to be just a bit lower in the mix. This is a petty complaint, but I think something worth acknowledging when dissecting a legendary band. That said, I have to hand it to him on “Open Casket,” with the fills being nailed perfectly, and it contains one of my favorite drum lines on any song in the catalog.
If you can get past the overbearing presence of the only mildly flawed drumming, everything else is a gold mine. “Born Dead” rakes in tremolos like no other song, falling into the cracks of the chorus, and this swift swing into the fret-happy bridge is wonderful. Almost everything runs in phases, which I think allows it to surpass the opening, fuming title track in construction. “Leprosy” is far more structured, and allows it to have much memorability, so the two pair together beautifully. The brevity of the songs, and the slightly cleaner leads allows it to show the contrast nicely.
Despite being a record built with speed in almost every corner, Leprosy displays the ability to slow down and gallop along when needed. It may be a bit sloppy at times, but it adds charm, and those sharp edges would be deburred on the next album. “Pull The Plug” showcases this nicely, especially with the deep, chug-oriented riffs under the chorus. A harsher atmosphere helps, as the different paces throughout the record feel organic.
Death is one of the best projects to study over their seven album career. Despite Chuck Schuldiner being the godfather of the genre, he didn’t drop his best work first and slowly crumble away like some of his Florida companions did. Instead, everything realizes a different dynamic, and this is where I think the earliest hints of rhythmic superiority show, if only a little. It manages to stay memorable, using different patterns to break up what would otherwise seem like a one trick pony; you just have to pay closer attention at times.
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