COFFIN MULCH

Another week goes by, and the overwhelming deluge of top-notch death metal releases continues unabated. These are good times for fans of old-school filth, and Scotland's COFFIN MULCH are firmly at the forefront of this reinvigorated underground assault. Death diehards should be familiar with this lot: their 2021 "Septic Funeral" EP was easily one of that year's gnarliest records, and now seems like a kick-off point for all the monstrous music that has flowed from the UK since. Along with the likes of CELESTIAL SANCTUARY, VACUOUS and MORTUARY SPAWN, COFFIN MULCH are harnessing the power of death metal's first few waves, and belching it back out with maximum force. The UK death metal scene is in a fine state of health: "Spectral Intercession" aims to give it another giant shot in the arm, just in case.

This is an obscenely great half-hour of music. COFFIN MULCH have a sound that effortlessly mimics the catchiness and heads-down vehemence of the early '90s, but that also revels in a more contemporary sense of ignominious chaos. This is wild and violent death metal, steeped in the blood of ancient gods, but it's dirty, untamed and punk as fuck too. Pitching their tent pegs somewhere between the grandiose rumble of early GORGUTS and IMMOLATION and the skin-peeling hooks of Stockholm circa 1990, COFFIN MULCH get everything right here. "Into The Blood" is a sublime, post-NIHILIST HM-2 death anthem with a brilliant mid-song slump into horrified doom. "Mental Suicide" is a filth-encrusted sprint through psychological shadows, with strong shades of AUTOPSY at their lobotomized best.

"In The Grip Of Death" takes less than two minutes to summon evil spirits, as its creators rattle through the gears, primitive blastbeats a-go-go. "Fall of Gaia" and "Infernal Mass" are both aggravated assaults, bulging with great riffs. "Gateway to the Unseen" slows things down to a heinous, hideous waltz, but with a sinister, savage twist in the tale. Finally, "Eternal Enslavement" completes the picture with six minutes of artful macabre, wherein COFFIN MULCH's grubby but punishing production values really come into their own, amid a hail of hellish riffs and the kind of thick, choking atmosphere that reeks of authenticity (and a little putrefaction, naturally). Even in these fruitful times, "Spectral Intercession" stands out as a particularly disgusting act of deathly purity. You will dig.