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ASPHYX
Necroceros

Century Media (2021)
Rating: 8/10

Arguably one of the genre’s most consistent acts, Asphyx returns with another gut-wrenching, bone-dragging slab of gasping death metal. You know what’s coming, but you still cannot escape the quicksand.

Necroceros could be the tenth or hundredth full-length release from this Dutch outfit. Either way, I’m on board for another bout of gnawing, grooved deathliness that once again emits doomy strains that pull you into the pit.

As always, Martin van Drunen’s horrifying dehydrated coughs of horror set Asphyx apart as he seemingly and sadistically revels in his own short, desperate breaths, while behind him his pack of morbid merchants grind out enormous chunks of foul meatiness.

Opener ‘The Sole Cure Is Death’ churns in ode to musty Bolt Thrower as the guitars mash with perverse grooviness to a clanking percussive thud. Flecks of foaming speed entwine with those ghoulish mid-priced grinds, suggesting to me that Asphyx remains the masters of catchy, yet still mouldy death metal.

Detractors may argue that Asphyx is just too doomy, but that’s how I like my metal of the deathlier style; dark, morbid, fusty and boggy. ‘Three Years Of Famine’ is a prime example of that slow, yet bludgeoning quagmire of sombreness drizzled with a melancholic solo that spirals out of the peat bog smog. Meanwhile, ‘Mount Skull’ marches with equal dreary dredging, as if the rust-caked Asphyx machine is raking some soupy lake in search of old bones. Martin’s gasps and miserable sighs just add further ghastly drips of terror to an already algae-coated rhythm section of gloom.

Only occasionally are the cloying clammy cobwebs shaken off – like with the galloping drum kicks of ‘Yield Or Die’ – but for the most part this opus reeks of dismal drudgery, epitomised by the swamp-shaking seven-minute title track, the sprawling glug of ‘In Blazing Oceans’ and the fetid reek of ‘Molten Black Earth’ with its monolithic trends and aching layers of dragging doom.

The twisted riffs on ‘Knights Templar Stand’ literally bowed the wood of my old speakers as Martin spins tales of ancient occult orders, while with ‘The Nameless Elite’ the lumbering bass drags like a foggy migraine as the rest of the clan indulges in further bulges of barbaric moodiness.

The strangely titled ‘Botox Implosion’ seems a tad out of place if only for that title, but lyrically it’s still very much on the pulse concerning today’s often morbid obsession with regards to facial reconstruction, and it’s one of my favourite cuts on offer. So, in a sense, no topic is off menu for Asphyx as long as that doomy rhythm continues its warpath into the ears. Worth noting though that ‘Botox Implosion’ is the fastest effort on the opus, an utterly transfixing frenzy topping of what is essentially another top notch Asphyx fright-fest coated with dismembering layers of gloomy grimness and that recognisable dry Martin van Drunen cough that parches my soul with every rasp.

Over four years has passed since the last Asphyx opus, Incoming Death, but this latest barrage of horror just reminds us once again how great this battle-hardened bunch is.

Neil Arnold

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