Formed in the fall of 2006, Warbeast has a history rooted deeply in the Texas underground metal scene, with ties to bands like Rigor Mortis, Gammacide and Texan death-dealers, Demonseed. Originally spreading their rage under the name Texas Metal Alliance, the band eventually changed their identity to a more to the point, albeit fitting, moniker and have gone on to gradually forge quite the name for themselves in the metal genre as a relentless thrash force. Thus, Warbeast was born. Forming an alliance with Philip Anselmo (of Pantera, Down, Superjoint Ritual, Arson Anthem and so on), the band now finds a home on Anselmo’s own Housecore Records. Anselmo has claimed that Warbeast epitomizes “the DFW (Dallas/Ft. Worth) thrash metal sound” and has continued the connection with the band even further by taking up production duties on their latest  hell-raiser.

Krush The Enemy (Housecore Records) lets all of Warbeast’s hell break loose on the record’s opener and title track, with a high-pitched howl (reminiscent of say, ‘Cowboys From Hell’) and a virtual funnel cloud of traditional-sounding thrash riffing, courtesy of the twin guitar attack of Scott Shelby and the now-replaced Rick Perry. The vocal style is, for the most part, taken straight out of the thrash handbook, yet occasionally bears a sort of harshness not seen very often in the approach of other newer bands of the genre. That seems to work perfectly fine here, although the ripping-and-tearing presence of Bruce Corbitt’s mosh-inducing rants sometimes tend to bleed all over the place too loudly, distracting from the big picture. However, while not necessarily re-inventing the battered thrash wheel with Krush the Enemy, Warbeast carry a pretty effective mode of attack throughout the record’s duration. Further proof of this can be witnessed with songs like “The Plague At Hand”, the jaw-breaking “Scorched Earth Policy” and the sample-laden, all-out throwdown of the album’s closer, “We Are The Vultures”, all of which appear to declare that Warbeast will indeed destroy all those who doubt, leaving no stone unturned…for the enemy shall truly be crushed under feet of a denim and leather-clad army.

The only time Krush The Enemy loosens its metal-thrashing-mad grip is on “Stalker”, a song that differs in the ways of pacing and style, from the rest of the record. That is not to say it subtracts from the ferocity of the effort, but serves more as a merciful time allowing the listener to breathe. The album ends with a sound bite, a woman’s voice saying “In front of death, I thank you for your mercy, for having me freed from the terrible agony of torture.” Surely she wasn’t speaking to anyone in this band, otherwise, they would have drank all of her beer and thrown her into the pit to be swallowed in the fist-banging mosh abyss.