TULUM, Mexico — Only 48 hours into her long-awaited vacation, 29-year-old Abigail Mahoney started calculating the number of days until she could return to her one-bedroom apartment in Montclair, New Jersey, baffled sources confirmed.
“It’s the weirdest thing,” said Mahoney from her hotel balcony as she gazed out over the sparkling aquamarine ocean. “I’ve been looking forward to this trip for literal months. But now that I’m here, I want it to be over. There’s a flimsy sliding door that separates the bathroom from the bedroom, so when my boyfriend’s in there I can hear Montezuma’s revenge in fortissimo. Plus I’m sick of having to go to restaurants for every meal. I just want to eat Frosted Flakes on the couch.”
“That’s right, the same couch I languished on every night, wishing I could hit ‘fast-forward’ and be in Mexico,” Mahoney added with a sad shake of her head.
Local observers corroborated Ms. Mahoney’s account that the trip was rapidly losing its luster.
“She seems to be having an ataque de nervios,” said Luis Ramirez, the manager of the luxury resort at which Ms. Mahoney and her boyfriend were staying. “Instead of relaxing by the pool or in the ocean, I see her all day looking at the Montclair Buy Nothing Facebook group on her phone. At first I thought maybe she was not satisfied with the services, but the on-site masseuse told me the señorita asked her for the Spanish translation of ‘ennui.’”
Dr. Caroline Fitzpatrick, a licensed psychologist with a private practice on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, said this phenomenon is common amongst her upper-middle-class clientele.
“For many people, vacation is a helpful daydream: something to look forward to as a mental break from the challenges and drudgeries of daily life. But like all fantasies, once it’s actualized, the person ends up feeling disappointed,” said Fitzpatrick. “Either that or this young woman is just a spoiled, miserable person who will never be happy in the moment for as long as she lives.”
At press time, Mahoney was on the plane back to Newark, already beginning to plan and count down the days till her next vacation.
Laura is too sweet and empathetic to lead anyone into an apocalyptic frenzy. She believes in the goodness of others and the power of redemption, making her more likely to gather her friends for prayer circles than to convince them the end is near. Her followers would be more focused on charity work than preparation for the end of days.
As pillars of the community, Mom and Dad Asparagus would be more inclined to guide their followers with wisdom and compassion than to exploit them, creating community rather than a cult. Sure, they believe the end times are upon us – emphasizing preparedness in faith, hoarding goods & guns, and surrendering one’s possessions. They’d likely run a tight ship, intent on survival rather than the rapture.
Jimmy and Jerry Gourd might seem like harmless, food-obsessed goofballs, but beneath their bumbling exterior lies the potential for a dangerously misguided leadership. Their love for comfort and indulgence could easily translate into a doomsday cult focused on hedonism and excess, where followers are encouraged to “live it up” before the Christian apocalypse hits. While they lack the ambition to lead a full-blown movement, their laid-back approach could lure in those looking for an easy way out of the end times.
Madame Blueberry’s materialism could lead her to exploit her followers under the guise of preparing for the end times. She’d probably convince them to give up their worldly possessions—for her own gain, of course—but her focus would remain on accumulating wealth rather than spiritual fervor. She might toy with apocalyptic themes, but she’s too self-serving to take it all the way.
With his old-school wisdom and penchant for storytelling he might initially seem like an unlikely cult leader. However, his deep understanding of tradition and scripture could be twisted into something more sinister. He’d use his extensive knowledge to create elaborate narratives about the apocalypse, presenting himself as the sage who holds the key to salvation. Despite his seemingly benign exterior, his would demand dogmatic obedience and self-sacrifice under the pretense of guiding his followers through the end times
The Scallions are natural troublemakers, and they wouldn’t hesitate to use apocalyptic fear-mongering to their advantage. They could easily whip up a frenzy among their followers, convincing them to forsake their lives in preparation for the rapture. Their cult would ultimately be more about anti-government propaganda than anything of religious consequence. Their motivations would be more about causing chaos and watching the world burn than any true belief in their cause.
Everyone knows Mr. Nezzer has always had a taste for power and control, and he could see the apocalypse as a way to solidify his dominance. He’d likely position himself as a messianic figure, demanding absolute loyalty from his followers in exchange for their salvation. He’d preach about the end of days while gathering up several wives, lining his pockets, and skipping town when his followers caught on to his ruse.
Jean-Claude and Philippe, the clever and mischievous French Peas, have always been sharp-witted, and it’s this intelligence that would make them dangerous cult leaders. These two would have no trouble twisting biblical passages to suit their agenda, using their deep knowledge of scripture to manipulate their followers. They’d expertly reinterpret the Bible, taking verses out of context to justify whatever commands they issue. Their followers, drawn in by their charisma and apparent wisdom, would be eager to do their bidding. Jean-Claude and Philippe would lead their cult with precision, turning faith into a tool for control and obedience.
Petunia’s love for spreading kindness and positivity makes her the least likely to embrace a doomsday narrative. While she would absolutely join a cult of some kind, hers would be more based on love and freedom. She’d rather hand out lavender-scented candles and do yoga than preach about fire and brimstone. In the end, the worst Petunia would do is convince her followers to become vegan anti-vaxxers.
Anyone with a German accent is capable of starting and leading a doomsday cult, it’s basically built into their DNA. Whether they are human or just a gourd, all Germans should be viewed as suspicious. However, Dr. Flurry has softened over time and he is much more interested in tinkering with inventions these days rather than concociting a special potion for all his followers to drink so they can ascend to the afterlife.
The Peach’s narcissism and deep-seated personality disorder make him a prime candidate for doomsday cult leadership. His overwhelming need for validation and admiration would drive him to establish a cult where he’s worshiped as a messianic figure. But beneath his charming exterior lies a dangerously unstable personality, prone to erratic behavior and delusions of grandeur. His behavior would include in increasingly extreme demands, from total loyalty to acts of self-sacrifice, all to feed his insatiable ego. As his grip on reality loosens, The Peach would lead his cult down a dark, destructive path, where his every whim becomes a divine command and his followers’ lives are mere tools for his self-glorification.
Junior Asparagus’s innocence and fervor could be dangerously twisted into a cult leadership role. As a young and impressionable leader, he might genuinely believe he’s been chosen to guide others through the apocalypse. Surrounded by “yes men” who constantly affirm his every word, Junior would start to believe his own lies and messianic visions. His youthful zeal would draw followers into a world of blind faith and unquestioning obedience. As Junior becomes more convinced of his own infallibility, his demands would grow increasingly extreme, leading his cult down a dark path of self-destruction. His naivety, combined with his growing self-deception, would make him a particularly dangerous leader, unable to recognize the harm he’s causing until it’s far too late.
Mr. Lunt’s smooth-talking ways and business acumen would make him a formidable cult leader. A nonbeliever himself, he’d see the Christian apocalypse as a prime opportunity to manipulate and profit, convincing his followers that he’s the key to their salvation. Under his leadership, the cult would become a well-oiled machine of exploitation, with Mr. Lunt at the helm, extracting every last possession and ounce of devotion from his flock. He’d sell salvation by the pound, all while keeping his true intentions hidden behind a charming smile. Believe the rapture comes, which is soon – he promises, he would make his followers work to the bone making “artesian” crafts, furniture, shed, and barns that he can sell at local farmers’ markets.
Archibald Asparagus is the epitome of rigidity and order, and it’s this obsession with control and strict adherence to scripture that makes him a prime candidate for doomsday cult leadership. Archibald would position himself as the ultimate authority on the Christian apocalypse, convinced that only his interpretation of the Bible is correct. His cult would be a tightly controlled society, with followers forced to comply with his every decree, no matter how extreme. Under his leadership, the cult would become a suffocating regime where any dissent is met with harsh punishment and, ultimately, total annihilation, all in the name of divine order.
At the top of our list is Bob the Tomato, the character who’s always been the moral compass of VeggieTales. Bob’s unwavering faith and deep sense of responsibility could easily be twisted into a dangerous fervor. In his quest to save souls, he would come to believe that he is the chosen one, destined to lead his followers through the apocalypse. Bob’s sermons would grow increasingly intense, filled with scriptural imagery of the end times and promises of salvation for those who follow him without question. His conviction would drive his followers to extreme measures, from surrendering their possessions, breaking contact with their loved ones, even embracing mass suicide; all in the name of a better world beyond. Bob’s earnestness and unshakable faith make him the most likely to lead a doomsday cult, convinced that he’s doing God’s work, no matter the cost.
As die-hard fans of old-school death metal, it absolutely breaks our heart to put a Suffocation album from the early nineties in last place, but the production on this one steals the clout from a collection of truly well-written songs. The band themselves seem to agree with this, as the fact that they went on to re-record six of these tunes on later albums doesn’t necessarily stand out as a ringing endorsement. With that being said, there’s a lot to dig here, and the release sees the band in a perfect middle-ground between the raw punishment of their debut and the technical mastery of “Pierced from Within.” So make that glass half-full and view the rough production as a charming, nostalgic asset, and you’ll get some pure joy out of this one. After all, that’s how we enjoy almost every black metal album from that time.
This one’s got it all. Great riffs, great production, technical proficiency that doesn’t equate to audial masturbation, and vocals that would make Pazuzu himself jealous. Just listen to that double bass under the haunting starting riff at the onset of the title track. Goddamn, this one comes in hard! On the whole, there’s really not much we can say to criticize this album other than pointing out that it just doesn’t stand out much when compared to the below entries. We can’t shake the feeling that we’d be revering this much more had the band not possessed such a vast catalog, but whatever, this is the Hard Times, not Rolling Stone. Feel free to tell us we fucked up on this one; we’ll be too busy enjoying the riff on “Come Hell or High Priest” to give a shit.
Original frontman Frank Mullen’s swansong with the band came with this 2017 opus, and by God he went out on a high note. Just listen to him growl “You choke, cannot swallow, the truth has made you vomit” on “The Warmth Within the Dark.” We’re not sure what that means, but…hell yeah, we’re on board! Newbies and current members Charlie Errigo and Eric Morotti shine in the open slots at guitar and drums, respectively, and effortlessly keep those mind-bending Suffocation tunes we’ve all grown to know and love coming. It gets a little too technical for our tastes at times (we hear you, “Your Last Breaths,”) but we’re just nitpicking. Max out the volume on this baddie and go mosh some unsuspecting strangers.
We’ve gotta admit, we have a soft spot for “Souls to Deny.” This was their first full-length album in nine years when it came out, and there’s just something about a comeback album by Suffocation delivering a mallet to the crotch of every shitty Taking Back Sunday and Yellowcard song we were hearing at the time that results in us viewing this through rose-colored glasses. Or maybe we just have some residual teenage angst left over from our high school years. What do you want from us? We’re going to go watch the “Surgery of Impalement” music video. Seeing the band tear shit up in a junkyard or whatever should help us sort through these feelings. Fuck therapy.
Guitarist Terrance Hobbs is the only remaining original member at this point, as Disgorge’s Ricky Myers makes his debut as head crooner, and goddamn does he fill those shoes nicely. Just listen to “Immortal Execration.” Is it the apocalypse, or is he just happy to see us? This album gets a little slammy at times, but we’re actually going to give the band props for that. Times are a changin’, and we like to see one of the most important creators of brutal death metal making the moves necessary to stay in the game. Also, bonus points for that album cover. We presume Ganon is dwelling somewhere at the end of those spine ramps, and it’s our destiny to hit that fucker with some light arrows. BRB, we’ll see you at #4.
Alright! From the get-go, you know they’re not fucking around when “Abomination Reborn” starts up. This album takes the technical precision of “Souls to Deny,” hones the production, ups the ferocity of the vocals, and leaves us with a true exemplar of brutality that stands among the band’s best. Just try to listen to “Bind, Torture, Kill” without ending up with an A&E documentary about you in 20 years. Lyrics get a little silly at times, but whatever. There are only so many ways you can convey beating someone to death with a hammer, and the band had been well into its second decade at this point, so who are we to judge? Just appreciate Mike Smith’s drumwork and quit your bitchin’.
And we’ve reached the pinnacle of post-reformation Suffocation (in our humble opinion.) “Pinnacle of Bedlam” shows itself as a perfect modern iteration of their nineties genius, with twisting riffs, solos that range from eerie to frantic, and crushing drumming from Dave Culross in his only full-length appearance in the band (though not his last appearance on this list.) There’s even a bit of melody in those riffs we’re hearing on the title track, and for some reason we’re not upset. The album cover is sick, too. It’s like Metallica’s “…And Justice for All” if it was brutal death metal with audible bass and infinitely less insufferable band members. Count us in.
Are you about to head out on a two-mile run and are scrambling to put together a playlist to get you through it? Here it is. Done. You’re welcome. Just make sure to obtain proof of your time, because there is a 100% chance you’re going to end up qualifying for the next Olympics. Everything about this EP fucking rips, and we find ourselves revisiting it as often as the two albums below.
Focusing on rhythm without sacrificing on the brutality of its predecessor, “Pierced from Within” may very well be your favorite Suffocation album. In fact, it was very close to being ours. Every song is twisting, unpredictable, and above all, crushing. This is a landmark death metal release that has something to appeal to everyone. Odd time signatures? Done. Gut-wrenching death growls? Done. Masterful drumming? Done. Fucking arpeggios? Sure, why not? And it all works seamlessly. There’s a reason the band still opens its live shows with “Thrones of Blood” to this day. So quit reading this and go listen, you fucking nerd.
We know what you’re thinking: with such a glowing review of “Pierced from Within,” why isn’t it number one? It’s because we’re fucking cavemen, that’s why. The abstract concept of brutality didn’t exist until the band laid down “Liege of Inveracity” some storied day in the early nineties, and we are forever grateful for that. Everybody in the band is absolutely crushing on this one, and Frank Mullen delivers a masterful performance; sounding like something out of a goddamn nightmare, and is even boosted by death metal stalwart George “Corpsegrinder” Fisher on “Reincremation” and “Mass Obliteration”. What more could we ask for? Maybe an accompanying shovel with our purchase so we could dig along to “Infecting the Crypts,” but now we’re just being persnickety.
There are a few good songs on this mess of an album. If you know anything about the band, you know this album was hastily thrown together along with the ill-conceived re-recording of “All Else Failed” (which is not on this list due to it just being a redux) to finish their contractual obligations. And yeah, it sounds like that. And while you might not think that would be the most conducive environment for art, sometimes no-stakes creativity can help you make some wonderfully weird, out-of-the-box stuff. And that’s what happens here with something like the dope underwater part in “A Pirate’s Prayer.” Unfortunately, it also may produce something like “Angel Without Wings.” Don’t make “Angel Without Wings.”
Nobody from this era of Zao is in the band anymore. Which is fine. But this isn’t a “is it really Morbid Angel without that one guy?” debate. This is a different band with a different sound than what Zao would become after these two albums. For what they are, these albums are fine. They’re a nice time capsule of the “spirit-filled hardcore” scene, which certainly had it’s time and place. Thankfully that time is a long time ago and the place is not here. Which is a thing. Again, they aren’t bad albums, and their weakness has more to do with the style and production at the time. But they really are a different band. When you wanna listen to Sugar Ray, you don’t put on “Lemonade and Brownies.” It might’ve been an important album for the band, but you wanna hear “Fly” or “ Every Morning” or maybe even “Falls Apart.” You don’t wanna hear “Rhyme Stealer.” Nobody does.
Barely.
A great comeback album, The Funeral of God has somewhat diminishing returns as time goes on. Certain albums in the band’s discography have a distinctive time and place. So when we say “This album came out on Ferret Records in 2004 and sounds like it,” some of you know exactly what we mean and some of you don’t. But it’s the truth. This isn’t a bad thing, it just IS. A concept album whose concept seemed almost shocking at the time, it now is filed under “yeah, I liked that one.” A couple solid bangers, but we’re not sure anyone will ever be clamoring for “The Funeral of God Anniversary Tour!”
And here is where we lose folks. For a lot of people this album is number one. Nostalgically it seems like the choice. This is in part because this album was groundbreaking for many when it came out. It’s still a great album. Some might say it’s the band’s sixth-best album. We’d say that, actually. But the thing is: bands can and do get better. And Zao gets better than this album. A lot better, actually. This album is classic, and if you grew up listening to “Lies of Serpents, River of Tears,” there’s a chance it’s etched in your brain as perfect. But it’s not. Good? Yes. Perfect? No. Nothing from your memory is. I mean, have you seen “Top Gun” lately? It’s good. Nobody is saying it’s not good, but honestly, “Top Gun: Maverick” is just a better movie.
While the band was apparently a mess at this point (and maybe not even really a band?) the chaos hadn’t fully affected the songwriting as much as it would for “A Parade of Chaos.” This album sees the Zao experimenting with different sounds, drums triggers (controversial for the time), and an overall vibe that just felt new for the band. What can we say? It was the year 2000. Everybody what doing wacky shit. The follow-up to the incredible “Liberate Te Ex Inferis” could’ve been a real disappointment. But instead, it produced one of the band’s more interesting albums. There’s an almost black metal feel to “A Tool to Scream” and the “burn it down a walk away” ending of “5 Year Winter” is a legendary breakdown that has seen many a windmill kick, which is really the only unit of measurement that matters. It’s their most experimental album and this time the experimenting pays off.
On any given day, this album could be closer to number one. Hell, it could BE number one. It is an absolute experience. It is the Zao version of falling down some stairs while carrying a laundry basket full of cinder blocks: It starts. it’s total chaos and pain. it’s over. You’re not sure what you really remember about it, but you’re glad you made it out. Recorded live to tape, Albini’s production is exactly what you think it’s gonna be. And that’s why the album can’t be number one. At times, this is the Zao you wanna hear. But this album will never be THE Zao album. It’s too much.
We love it when a band’s newer stuff actually beats out their “classic” albums. For one, it pisses readers off, which is actually the only reason Hard Times exists: to anger YOU specifically. But more importantly, this album shreds. Although at this point, the album is getting close to a decade old. So, soon it too will be a classic. Because Tom Cruise looks great for his age, but he still looks his age. He doesn’t look like he’s trying to come off younger than he is. Jennifer Connolly also looks fantastic and the two of them genuinely have chemistry. The age gap is there, but it’s not distractingly large. And then obviously Miles Teller and Glen Powell bring a new energy to the franchise that skeptics were unsure about. But they were wrong. The bottom line? “Top Gun: Maverick” is awesome and Zao is at the top of their game.
The best album from the “classic” Zao era. Great concept, great sound. In this album, Dan’s vocals move from “So I guess Zao is doing Carcass-worship?” to “This is Zao and it rules.” The movie clips, the production, and the overall feeling of dread on the album. It’s great. When this album was released, it sounded like we were listening to a horror movie. And that vibe pretty much holds up today. While “Where Blood and Fire…” introduced this version of Zao to the world, this album let everyone know they weren’t fucking around. Granted, in the next 25 years of the band there would be a lot of fucking around. But in 1999, Zao was eating everyone’s lunch.
It’s easy to shit on a band’s newest efforts, especially when they’ve been around as long as Zao. Often nobody wants to hear the new stuff. Just play the hits. But Zao is doing a great job of putting out quality in their later years. The progressive elements make sense. The slow plodding nature of the album feels intentional and moody. While it was not on our bingo cards, Zao is somehow one of the only metalcore bands from the ‘90s that neither abandoned their classic sound nor refused to mature and evolve. They have expertly threaded that needle. Sure would be nice if they shared the secret with everyone else. Instead, we gotta keep going to all these anniversary shows where the band slips in shit off their new albums, like we won’t notice. WE’RE HERE FOR NOSTALGIA, YOU DORKS. Unless you’re Zao. Then we’re here for it all.