We received these covers with seam rips from shipping. See image above.
In an era of short attention spans and fleeting trends, it takes nerve to open an album with a six-minute instrumental—but SOBIBOR, the Colombian force of relentless thrash, shows no hesitation. Their second full-length, Misantropía, begins with a lengthy, slow-burning track that sets the tone with grim determination. While not a showstopper in itself, it confidently establishes the album’s darker, more mature character, and more importantly, highlights a leap in production quality. Compared to their debut, the sound here is significantly more polished—razor-sharp guitars collide with hard-hitting drums, and the raw, booze-drenched vocals cut through with greater presence and grit.
The record unfolds with unflinching energy. SOBIBOR stays rooted in the aggression of thrash, but subtle punk undercurrents still pulse beneath the surface. Thankfully, the band avoids the overused formula of endless tempo shifts and breakdowns. The songwriting remains direct, often primitive in spirit, but more ambitious in scope. There’s a noticeable upgrade in arrangements, with occasional solos and unexpected changes that steer the music away from straightforward street punk and deeper into metal territory.
Tracks like “Vencer o Morir” make a strong case for the band’s evolution. What starts as a plodding, menacing march soon opens into a haunting melodic section before diving back into chaos—anchored by a sorrowful, expressive guitar lead that lingers long after the song ends. In contrast, “Requiem” surprises with its blistering pace. Despite its title suggesting a mournful tone, the song rips forward with speed metal intensity and refuses to let up. It’s a jarring but welcome swerve that proves SOBIBOR can be unpredictable without losing their grip on cohesion.
As the album progresses, the band’s sharpened songwriting becomes more apparent. Misantropía carries a stronger identity and sense of purpose than its predecessor, with more memorable riffs, a tighter rhythmic backbone, and a greater command of atmosphere. There’s still a jagged, South American roughness that runs through it all, but now it’s channeled with focus and fire. Lyrically, even for those not fluent in Spanish, the themes come through—social decay, inner turmoil, and a world without illusions.
Not everything hits the mark (the Motörhead cover, for example, may divide listeners), but the overall step forward is undeniable. Misantropía isn’t just a follow-up—it’s a statement of intent from a band finding its voice in the chaos. It’s urban, unpolished, and real. A raw thrash metal record that balances primal aggression with newfound depth—and it sounds all the better for it.
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