Californian sludge metal bound with muscle and gore
The kind of death-metal Autopsy play is sludgy, maggoty and doomladen. It is not the kind of death metal where everything is played at 1,000mph and so musclebound by Pro-Tools and post-production that it sounds like it was made by psychopathic cyborgs. Having formed nearly three decades ago (breaking up for 15 years in the middle somewhere), the Californian quartet’s seventh album finds them still sounding inspired by punk rock, ’70s metal and cheap horror movies. It’s crushingly heavy, much like their classic early-’90s blasts – there have been some feeble metal reformations, but this isn’t one of them – and the lyrics are faultlessly gory, but there’s a groove to Autopsy’s graft, not just extremity for extremity’s sake.