Label: Napalm Records
After opening with a foreboding minute-and-a-half of new age pipe-organ minimalism, this Houston foursome goes the super-thick occult doom route on its debut album. The trudge-riffs manage a surprising bounce, and given the knee-deep guitar grime, Gregg Higgins' often-spoken (and once chuckled) words of unholy wisdom are unusually audible. Subject matter is of the maybe-tongue-in-cheek witch-and-blood-ritual stripe, with Danzig an obvious reference point. But war-metal and Celtic Frost nuke-goth are in the mix, too -- and even, in "Mothers Milk," what sounds like mournful Hungarian folk.