REVIEW: Larcenia Roe – Extraction [2025]
Artist: Larcenia Roe
Album: Extraction
In 2023, a US-nationwide survey of over 200,000 adults found that up to 36% fear the dentist, with 12% holding what is considered to be an “extreme” fear or phobia. That’s one way to say that 24,000 individuals would—and do—modify their daily lifestyle and habits to avoid contact with your friendly neighborhood dental practitioner…or, well, in the case of Raleigh-based deathcore outfit, maybe less than friendly neighborhood dental practitioner. On the band’s debut full length, Extraction, these North Carolina purveyors of extreme aggression lean into the distinct and undeniable unease that accompanies all things related to teeth, the only bone visible to the naked eye under normal circumstances. Extraction is a sonic freak show, utilizing everything from hyper dissonant fretwork to eerie atmosphere to evoke a spine-chilling and immersive dive into contemporary deathcore—ensuring the listener that if they didn’t have a problem with getting a cavity filled before they hit play, they sure as hell will afterwards.
Extraction is a sonic jump-scare—an unpredictable tour of bewildering aggression and jarring dissonance designed to make the listener’s skin crawl. Whether its the pummeling salvos of introductory track “TEETH” or the haunting ebb and flow that define “Happy Fingers” and closing song “Lullaby (Special),” Larcenia Roe do an excellent job of tastefully infusing their penchant for horror into each song on Extraction. “Flesh and Brine,” one of the longer cuts on the record, is perhaps also one of the most straightforward, channeling more old-school deathcore into its righteous onslaught of lacerating blast beats from percussionist and gritty, crunchy chugs. Others—like “Calcium Closet”—dive a little deeper into the realm of the unsettling. Here, stop-start pauses and off-the-wall fretwork define Larcenia Roe’s thorough and remorseless oppression of the listener, with groove and sensibility left to the wayside in favor of an all-out dissonance barrage. “Sickly Sweet” is similar in its off-putting nature, taking the nuances of contemporary deathcore to the extremes with blistering fretwork and low, chunky bass working like twin jackhammers, chiseling the fragile remains of sanity from the listener’s temporal bone. Extraction is a bewildering, degrading and intense experience—but, you know, in the good way.
Larcenia Roe’s selling point—above and beyond the unique way in which they infold sci-fi and horror themes into the atmosphere and aesthetic of their band—is without a doubt their vocal component. Vocalist and producer Ryan Vail is a titan of his craft, point blank. While the act do find themselves flirting with the often-derogatory “vocal gymnastics/olympics,” they do so in a way that complements the themes and influences abundant on Extraction. “Eggy Mess,” featuring Vulvodynia’s Lwandile Present, is one such example—plus, anything with Prusent on it is sure to impress anyhow. The same can be said of “Calcium Closet,” featuring Ameonna’s Alex Kohler (formerly of Chelsea Grin)—but even without features, Vail dominates with just about any style of scream or shout the listener could possibly want. For that reason, it’s hard to pick one song that shines any more than another, but “Flesh and Brine,” alongside “Eggy Mess” are certainly two cuts that the listener is bound to return to.
Larcenia Roe seemed hellbent on making a viscerally unsettling and unapologetically bludgeoning record with Extraction, and to that end, they certainly succeeded. Dense with flashy production, insane vocal antics and a persistent atmosphere of unease and aggression, Extraction is a ruthless record that stands proudly as a strong debut full length release from a young but prodigally renowned band. Focused and more cohesive than their debut EP, Larcenia Roe demonstrate immense ability throughout Extraction—making dentistry maybe more appealing for some, but definitely less appealing for others.
8/10
For Fans Of: Dismembered Tyrant, Psycho-Frame, Face Yourself, Crown Magnetar
Connor Welsh
