I always smile when I see these over the top album/song and titles and outrageous, obscene cover art; Alice Cooper, your spirit lives on. I realize it's meant to shock, but it's more in the bah-not-scary-just-kinda-ugly-and-dumb mold. However, inside the album lives an unexpectedly subtle, invaluable sense of humor that makes the proceedings really stand out.
Sooo...guess the album title is about yet another necrophile, dumb and cliche but somehow comfortably familiar. Must be a example of how the diminishing returns of atrocity work on a pictoral level solely, because I can tell you upfront that the thought that went into this album (superficially a simply constructed piece), was considerable, and the slaughter never loses its effectiveness over the album's duration. Each listen reveals different textures amongst the at first overwhelming din, like well sketched variations on backround slaying fields. The resultant, extended dynamic range make this one of the most physically heavy, patience-requiring, yet imaginative death metal records of recent years.
Make no mistake, this is massively bludgeoning Disgusto-Slam that is supremely helped by a heap of killer-sounding riffs. The distorted sound of the guitars is outrageously pronounced (in the "good/perfectly fitting" way) and with time one realizes the often sinkhole deep vocals fit just as adequately, working within the emsemble as more of a percussive instrument than wind...overdriven timpani, once could say.
There's love and careful tribute to the greats here, like Devourment and Dying Fetus. Definite Cannibal Corpse influence as well (though naming them in this Gore Metal genre is getting delightfully redundant these days). But get ready for certain twists in the delivery of the material that will yank you out of your abnormally enthusiastic headbanging listening experience; at first wtf-ing you out, and then astounding you with the sheer humor behind the execution.
These guys know and adore what they're doing, but have a refreshingly young and opportunistically inclined creative streak, which makes this irresistible for the Slammy, WretchedGore fanatic that wants some disciplined ingenuity to differentiate each song, without having to resort to the typical Necrophagist-ian brain-spike frozen Frosty slurp genero-burp set firmly within the El Convoluto songwriting/production Origin.
There's the brutal aspect of it (something the abovementioned bands and clones seem to lose in their crazy cuckoo clock whirl of finger knotting), and my neck personally got injured cranking this; but there's also a clowning, we're-in-on-a-really-killer-joke aspect as well, and the latter in particular begs for repeated listens.
I give this 75/100 just because Devourment still owns this style, as much as Suffocation and Dying Fetus own them.