For those growing up and getting into extreme metal now, in the age of streaming services and much of all recorded music ever published being available anywhere, at any time from a mobile device in yer pocket, the 90’s probably seem like the stone age.

In 1997 – 1998, when I seriously started to get into extreme metal, when the seeds sown by Impaled Nazarene’s Suomi Finland Perkele started to ripen, finding extreme metal wasn’t quite so easy as it is nowadays. I didn’t have many friends into extreme metal, I didn’t know any extreme metal magazines or fanzines, and I didn’t even have an internet connection at home. Discovering new bands and releases wasn’t easy. The only metal magazine to be found in markets was Metal Hammer, who concentrated far more on nu metal – but occasionally extreme metal would make the cut. Perhaps it’s not surprising that among these few occasions, death metal pioneer Morbid Angel’s 1998 album Formulas Fatal To The Flesh, their first without long-time bass player/vocalist David Vincent, was prominently featured.

And I, hungry for any new extreme metal, especially death metal (after having got into it via Deicide’s Serpents Of The Light), had to get my hands on the album. Of course, it would have made more sense to start from Altars Of Madness or some of the other, earlier and more classic albums, but it wasn’t as easy as to walk into any record store and pick up a copy. No, back then, slightly older albums were more often than not out of print and unavailable. In many ways, I do think the situation is better nowadays, when extreme metal classics and even many obscure gems are widely available. This is one thing I don’t wax nostalgic about.

Eventually I managed to find a copy of the album, and baffled by the butt-ugly front cover I put the album on without knowing what to expect. The opening riff of Heaving Earth, seguing into a furiously blasting verse, was instantly convincing. Prayer Of Hatred and Bil Ur-Sag continued in equally high form, but the synth interludes and some of the more complex tracks baffled me as much as the cover artwork. It was a case of infatuation at first sight, but it did take me quite a long time to truly get to grips with the rather massive album – Formulas Fatal To The Flesh clocks in at over 50 minutes.

As things sometimes go, my introduction to Morbid Angel and this album in particular came at a very opportune time: just shortly before, I had read my first H.P. Lovecraft anthologies and was hooked on anything relating to the Cthulhu Mythos. This had, of course, always been a major lyrical theme of Morbid Angel, but never so much as on Formulas Fatal To The Flesh. The entire album is a mystical, even nightmarishly psychedelic trip into guitarist Trey Azagthoth’s arcane mixture of Sumerian mythology, Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos and the infamous Simon Necronomicon. Many of the lyrics read like prayers and invocations – and that is exactly how I took them! The booklet even includes a “Great Invocation of the Living Continuum”, a ritual to Azagthoth’s interpretation of Sumerian-Lovecraftian deities.

In other words, though the album wasn’t in its entirety instantly accessible to me, the lyrics alone ensured I kept returning to the album, spinning it frequently and literally wearing the booklet out. The booklet of my CD copy is creased, worn from the edges and yellowed from age and frequent perusing.

Whilst Formulas Fatal To The Flesh remained a favourite, rather soon my interest shifted from death metal to black metal. As such – and also due to not really coming across any of the older albums! – it took me years to dig deeper into Morbid Angel’s back catalogue. Eventually I of course did. To me, even though Morbid Angel is a firm favourite and I love everything from A to G (the band notoriously names their albums in alphabetical order), no album in the death metal legend’s back catalogue equals Formulas Fatal To The Flesh. I know most people don’t consider Formulas… a peak in Morbid Angel’s discography, but for me it is the peak, without a speck of doubt.

It’s not just that it’s the first album by them I heard, and one of the first extreme metal albums I owned, and as such an album of pivotal importance to me. No, things just click on the album: the fierceness and brutality of it all, the complexity, the absolute, crushing heaviness of the sound, the occult weirdness of the lyrics. Steve Tucker’s utterly dedicated, deep guttural vocals; Trey Azagthoth’s versatile guitar playing, which shifts from tungsten grade heavy slow riffing to blistering speed to evocative melodies, and his esoteric soloing; and certainly not least, Pete “Commando” Sandoval’s masterful, powerful yet nuanced work behind the drum kit.

This is one of those albums which I really, truly, think is underrated and unjustly dismissed. To some extent, I do understand why: David Vincent was an integral part of the band and the sound, and to many fans he could not be replaced. But in being so prejudiced, too many people have dismissed Formulas Fatal To The Flesh without giving it a genuine chance.

A quarter of a century on, Formulas Fatal To The Flesh sounds every bit as massive and impressive to me as it did back in the day. Cranking up the volume, the sound is crushingly heavy without sacrificing clarity. The album truly sounds like the unstoppable onslaught of a mythical fire-lion, or the fatal heaving of the earth on the final, cataclysmic day. The songs have stood the test of time, still sounding exciting and inspiring, as do the lyrics – although perhaps they have lost some of their mystique over the years.

Where many other favourites of yore have lost some of their allure, and must be enjoyed with a side dish of waxing nostalgic, Formulas Fatal To The Flesh does not need that. Listening to it now, I remember just what it was that convinced me, and what has kept me returning to this album year after year. In a nutshell: its brilliance.

Shown in the top image is the original CD edition from 1998, faded and worn with age and much use. Under it is the double vinyl gatefold from 2018 – a fine if not somewhat basic vinyl edition with black vinyls and a lyrics insert missing the aforementioned Great Invocation to the Living Continuum. This is one of those vinyl releases in my collection I absolutely wanted to own – but for nostalgic reasons, whenever I want to listen to Formulas Fatal To The Flesh, it’s the CD I pop in.

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In From The Vaults we take a dive into the record collection at Only Death Is Real HQ and write about about items of iconic stature or personal significance; rarities and oddities from the archives; obscure gems that deserve more attention; classics of yore deserving of a moment in the limelight; and so on.