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ETERNAL ROT
Moribound

Memento Mori / Godz Ov War Productions (2023)
Rating: 9/10

Slithering in its own bodily secretions, the form that is UK-based Polish trio Eternal Rot peeks from its rancid lair and shirks away from the dim light. Is that a bulbous, squirming tiff or the sound of its own bursting intestinal tumours? Writhing in slop, Moribound ghoulishly cavorts in a domain of piss, excrement and sheared off fat in a rank cesspit tormented by its own gurgling slurps madness.

Is that a percussive thud or the sound of a dying heartbeat? Are those fetid bass lines of the foaming pus of another ulcerated geyser? This is the dire, dreary and dismal world this wretched oaf of a band exists in, delighting in its own squalid levels of sodden sediment.

With each passing album, Eternal Rot passes a cyst through its stinking orifice – a hellhole which sordidly erupts like a volcano of molten gore and pustulent miasma. The eruptive cacophony is represented by a series of manky songs, each one resonating as an abysmal echo originating from vile vowels, then through stagnant cesspools within damp crypts to the stench of fusty air. This is the sound you want from a relatively modern band channelling the old school vibe, and this decadent slab is as repulsively vintage as it gets, right down to the stark Mark Riddick cover artwork.

Insanely dense, the six tunes on offer here are served up as prime fatty lumps of impenetrable gunk. Doomy, decadent and macabre, ‘Summoned From Moribound Delusions’, ‘Reflected In Perpetual Waves Of Despair’, ‘Swollen Corpse Adoration’, ‘Desecrated Guts’, ‘Gestures Never Recalled’ and ‘Lurker In The Morgue’ murkily labour, churn and roll in simplistic yet atmospheric fashion to the point that one feels as if they are being pulled into the sludge by skeletal arms. Yes, you can become embroiled in pacier moments of this slogging quagmire of evil, but with Eternal Rot there is no better or more hideous place to squirm than in those oozing, pustular grooves of gore.

As a reeking, seeping entity, Eternal Rot feeds off its own sores, sucks at its rotten flesh and revels in its own foul odour. You knew it was coming, an ominous feeling in your gut told you so, but now the sewers are bulging with the bloodshot, leaking morbidity of a contender for album of the year.

Neil Arnold

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