UK sludge so bloated its guts have burst and spilled onto the floor. Spite At The End Of The Tunnel by Gnasch has turned knuckledragging into a new life form. Riffs are dense but glutinously sloppy, it feels as though you're drowning in offal. The album is tuned low but when you're convinced that Gnasch can't drop any lower, or slower, the trapdoor opens and cerebral hypoxia kicks in.
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