RBOTD #194: Betrayer F.T.M.
My [undecipherable] driving you insane
https://www.metal-archives.com/bands/Betrayer_F.T.M./115969
Country: Colombia
Location: Cali, Valle del Cauca
Genre: thrash metal
Formed in: 2005
Status: active
By the Numbers
Betrayer F.T.M. is the:
75th band formed in the 2000s
6th band from Colombia
104th band that is active at the time of querying
Its genre tags have been seen:
Thrash: 37 times
Member Connections
A lot. Going to narrow these down to:
Skull, a thrash/speed metal band from Cali, Valle del Cauca
Nemesis, a thrash band from Palmira, Valle del Cauca
Antikristo, a black/speed metal band from Popayán, Cauca
Rack Torment, a heavy/speed metal band from Cali, Valle del Cauca
Destroyer, a thrash band from Cali, Valle del Cauca
Abysmal Domination, a brutal death metal band from Pasto, Nariño
Riptor, a thrash band from Cali, Valle del Cauca
Sagros, a thrash band from Cali, Valle del Cauca
Know 'Em?
Nope. I am now 10/194.
Sketch Check
Eh. Again, I didn't look too deeply into the connections, but I think the band is fine.
RateYourMusic Scores
Betrayer F.T.M.'s highest-rated album is 2010's No Life Till Fury, which achieved a 2.66 average on 9 ratings.
The adjusted score places Betrayer F.T.M. in the 19th percentile.
Adjusted scores are calculated similarly to the Trad Belt scoring system. Please read that column for more information.
Trifecta Tracker
Betrayer F.T.M. has not achieved the trifecta.
A band can achieve the trifecta by titling a song after itself on a self-titled release. Iron Maiden's "Iron Maiden" on 1980's Iron Maiden is an example of the trifecta.
Betrayer F.T.M.'s "Machine" is one of the stupidest songs I've heard in a long time.
You must fuck all day
Or your pussy is going to be upset
Fuck like a factory
My [undecipherable] driving you insane
I might need to fact-check this with a Henry Ford aficionado, but, at any time from the beginning of the industrial age until now, has a factory fucked?
Anyway, welcome to the Betrayer F.T.M. experience. Musically, the Colombian quartet does OK on its LP debut, 2010's No Life till Fury. It's like a local opener-quality thrash demo that fell through the cracks in 1983; mutant Budgie routed through Die by His Hand-era Exodus, that kind of thing. Passable BBQ background noise, looks fun live. Lyrically, whoever penned that garbage is a total numskull, and, if you can believe it, "Machine" goes downhill from there. Indeed, it is not a sobering portrayal of a stray cat in heat. Its only saving grace is that Jimmy Acevedo delivers those lyrics in an absurd growl that sounds like Cheech Marin impersonating Paul Baloff. It toes the line of parody, in other words. Hell, it might just be an incredibly stupid recap of Basic Instinct. Let's check in with the album art.
Yeaaah. Please ignore one of our heshers gnawing on a raw steak. My favorite touch is that…the medical staff brought a cold one into the delivery room? And…there's a cockroach by it? Really, I can't blame the writhing tentacle horror. That's a surefire malpractice suit.
Betrayer F.T.M.'s next full-length, 2014's Full Blast, isn't quite as ramshackle, for better and for worse, clearing up some of the clutter in its compositions. It also feels older than No Life till Fury, a curious development for a sophomore outing. Less thrash, more NWOBHM, a switch-up driven home by the closer, a cover of Tank's "Turn Your Head Around." The album art also looks like an abandoned Fist record. My cursory inspection suggests that it doesn't sink to the levels of "Machine," either, but I didn't exactly listen to it that hard.1 Why would I? I don't have the time. I have a fuck factory to run over here.
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Obviously, Betrayer F.T.M. isn't doing anything new. I'm not sure it has to. Many people will tell you that metal needs to quit slavishly reproducing its past. I think that's part of the total package. You need the brand new and you need the bridges to the past. Without one, the other crumbles. It provides metal with a creative tension that some umbrella genres lack. You can, of course, mine the past without bringing its retrograde, outmoded ideas to the surface. Even if it's doing it for yuks, I don't want to excuse Betrayer F.T.M. for the derp across its discography, including the above-mentioned instance of classically bro-dude numskullery. Shit was hack in the '80s.