By Will York

LADIES, FISHIES , and gentlemen, we have an early front-runner for album title of the year: Death after Life (Century Media), by Impaled. It brings to mind the Onion's "I'm like a chocoholic, but for booze" T-shirt slogan – a clever inversion of an already inverted cliché. Never mind that it's somewhat misleading in terms of the album's lyrical concept, which involves a team of rogue surgeons who conduct sadistic experiments on patients they've brought back to life. "If you're lucky enough to die, pray that you stay dead," the narrator warns during the album's dryly hilarious, documentary-style opening track. But the title has a Zen-like simplicity and subtlety to it, and Zen is allowed to not make perfect sense.

In any case, Death after Life marks the Oakland band's leap to metal "major indie" Century Media, which is surprising for a couple of reasons: (1) because the once-esteemed label has almost entirely stopped releasing good music, and (2) because of Impaled's "Rodney Dangerfield of metal" status, at least locally.

Still considered a joke by many locals, and no strangers to the 7:30 p.m. slot at the Pound – opening overlong death metal package-tour shows – these veterans know the meaning of the term no respect, and, not coincidentally, they also know how to laugh at themselves.

Granted, with song titles such as "Rest in Faeces" and "Immaculate Defecation," it was hard to take them too seriously for a while. There was also the silly medical theme, which, like much of their music, was originally inspired by British death metal band Carcass, giving the impression that maybe Impaled weren't the world's most original band. Top it off with their disgusting album covers – their last one depicted a gore-soaked baby getting sawed in half – and onstage clowning around (death metal spelling bees, silly string, and so on), and you see that their critical reputation, or lack thereof, is really no mystery. I've liked them for years, but up until now, even my praise has been sheepish and apologetic.

Vindication is mine

With Death after Life, though, I feel vindicated. It's a great album, and that's not something you can say about many death metal albums being released these days. Their last album, 2002's Mondo Medicale (Necropolis), was no slouch, and many Web site pundits seem to prefer it to Death after Life. Keep in mind there is still, somehow, a devout underground scene that takes its gore metal very seriously – the same way there are people who enjoy hearing the same type of garage rock record over and over again. I'll never understand either of these demographics, although for those who dislike Impaled's new direction, there's consolation in that plenty of other bands are carrying the torch. Two of the other bands on the April 7 bill at the Stork Club, Engorged and Lord Gore, fill this void quite nicely, offering a (relatively) healthy alternative to careerists like the brain-dead Cannibal Corpse or the simply awful Six Feet Under.

As I see it, Death after Life represents a healthy step forward, but not too far forward, for the band. It's still disgusting and repulsive, but it's also kind of classy at the same time. Plus, there are no more songs about feces, which always helps. At its core, the music is the same as it's always been. And make no mistake, no one's pretending Impaled originated this style of music. The tag-team, growl-and-shriek vocals, the medical lyrics, and a lot of the guitar riffs refer to Carcass, particularly their 1993 masterpiece Heartwork (Earache). At the Gates' Slaughter of the Soul (Earache, 1995) is another touchstone, which is, again, nothing special considering that's one of the most copied metal albums this side of Reign in Blood.

Strings attached

What is good about Death after Life? For one thing, there's the simple but elusive and often overlooked fact that Impaled write really good, solid, catchy songs, a feat that's getting harder and harder for metal bands to do as the supply of usable riffs continues to dwindle. There's also the issue of presentation, another lost art in a genre where bands routinely grind out one similar-sounding song after another with little to distinguish them (and no, horror-movie samples used as song intros don't qualify as "variety"). Without resorting to Naked City-style forced eclecticism, these metal diehards show a willingness to bend the rules that's all too uncommon in this codified genre. Geez, there are even real, live string arrangements here, along with noncheesy keyboard washes, stereo-panning effects, and all sorts of other subtle production touches. Credit most of those to producers Trey Spruance and Billy Anderson and violinist-cellist Timb Harris, but also credit the band for enlisting them in the first place.

Now, about that medical theme: surely a band of metalheads dressing up in white lab coats and writing songs about unnecessary surgeries is just a silly shtick, right? I'm not so sure anymore. The band may cringe here, but I don't think it's stretching too far to argue that their M.D. pose is essentially a clever way of toying with and poking fun at authority figures – an old-fashioned rock 'n' roll concern if there ever was one, albeit a new angle. I'll spare you my rants on the modern biomedical-pharmaceutical industry, but I'll assume anyone who's been to Kaiser recently with a medical problem can relate. Regardless, Impaled are onto something, and they've got more up their sleeve than you think they do. Impaled play a CD-release show with Engorged, Lord Gore, and River Runs Black Thurs/7, Stork Club, 2330 Telegraph, Oakl. Call for time and price. (510) 444-6174.