supported by 4 fans who also own “The Sun of Malediction”
Blackened death/doom spitting filthy hatred and acid bile into your lilywhite face. Demons crawl forth from the hundred million hells, reaching with their yellow, rotted claws into your throat, ripping out your trachea and playing it like a demented cartilaginous dulcimer. Nothing to do but listen on in horrified wonder and hope the torment will end soon…which it will not. And at the last to see beauty in the congealed blood, rot, and ruin. Dave Aftandilian