The unsurpassed zenith of NY Death Metal, the greatest extreme metal album in history.

Nine tracks, nine songs of inhuman madness, nine descents into the abyss. A freaking mess.

Frank Mullen, a mild and calm man, turns into a fierce beast behind the mic: growls like a burp in a glass at the Christmas dinner.

Cerrito and Hobbs are two freaking geniuses, weaving sick and twisted tapestries of climbing and contortionist riffs. An immense heaviness, just listen to the title track: they sound like the hammers of Hell. And the solo in "Seeds of the Suffering"? A freaking chainsaw! A delight for the Brutal purists.

Mike Smith what can be said, instead of spouting nonsense about the black man's dick, listen to how they know how to play the skins. Listen to how he knows how to alternate manic blast beats with more relaxed tempos. The guy has style. Women who go to bed with him are lucky.

Every song is a UNESCO heritage masterpiece, they may all seem the same but they are all different. If on the 49th listen they seem all the same, try again; by the 50th, you'll change your mind.

I'll conclude by noting that the riff at 2:55 in "Liege of Inveracity", in my area, makes birds fall to the ground in flight.

BRUTAL MASTERPIECE

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