|Photo via HumanDoubleFace|
If the idea of deeply thought about chaos is a concept to be pondered, this blackguard of mangled whatever-core have written a syllabus for it. The drums don't just gallop here. They veer towards some intricate plan of winning a torturous obstacle course. Bass-Distorto-Massive buzz like a swarm napalm making bees. Blown out guitars twist into the skin. The fuzz and feedback burns white hot quickly bringing on sick blistering almost instantly. When the far from quietly titled "Whisper" starts out this record all those things coalesce into a rampageous force of nature. Out jumps an imp from the garbage disposal. He's blood red in color and gleaming from the slimy goo of all the spoiled dairy products and rotten produce. He leaps onto your shoulder and, in a demonic whine, does impersonations of what you will hear in a violent death.
Six art/spazz/thrash detonations and in less than eight minutes later, all you can do is assess the scorched earth and open grave devastation the band intends on completely achieving some day.