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GRAVE MIASMA
Abyss Of Wrathful Deities

Sepulchral Voice / Dark Descent (2021)
Rating: 8.5/10

A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, London, England-based death metallers Grave Miasma released its crushingly fetid debut album entitled Odori Sepulcrorum.

Eight years have passed and now the silence has not merely been broken, but shattered and dirtied by the return of this bestial frightfest in the form of the sickeningly squalid Abyss Of Wrathful Deities; an oozing mass of sordid slime leaking from the cracks like some toxic gruesome gloop.

Grave Miasma drains from you 50-minutes of your sorry life, leaving you bereft and dehydrated of all bodily fluids as cascading black globules of horror suffocate from every dismal chord.

If you’ve never heard of this damp, soggy breed of cavernous extremity then I do suggest you return to the infamous debut. But for now, let’s concentrate of this seething mass of rabid ghoulishness.

Okay, so Grave Miasma doesn’t exactly do anything outside the box… or should I say, coffin. It’s very much atmospheric, mouldy death metal of varying paces, but which preserves itself better through those cold, seeping drafts of misery which rush like spouting frozen geezers of gloom. However, when these guys slow down there’s that strong blackened death grind – murky, morose and aghast on absolute terror of its own creation as the vocals rasp down sandpaper walls and morbid solos dig their wailing claws into muddy banks of distortion.

The echoes of opener ‘Guardians Of Death’ resonate in truly abysmal fashion, as the pace quickens like black / death chills before vast abyssal seismic changes abound and aching, drawn out mustiness gives way to a tumble of percussive rocks which land with dull thuds. It’s a staggering way to open a record as damp melody marries itself into sinister passages of density.

‘Rogyapa’ exudes a suspenseful menace before a thick, sludgy riff attempts to break free of the claustrophobic walls of haze. The vocals are mere blurts of terror; not commanding, but more a case of becoming as one with the waterfalls of black blood and woe.

‘Ancestral Wars’ merges from the cracks like a seething avalanche of macabre, dehydrated evil. I envisage black, watery curtains of hail, sleet and something beyond our comprehension as the band conjures great, monolithic columns of crumbling terror and absurdity as the music becomes juggernaut through the despicable mirrors of grime and sickening bludgeoning.

How bands such as Grave Miasma are formed is beyond arcane knowledge. ‘Erudite Decomposition’ with its blazing fast introduction and, say, ‘Kingdoms Beyond Kailash’, with its slow, churning grit and sodden hammering, are prime examples of such unbidden territories that only our ears can stand.

Thankfully, we can press the “stop” button to take a breather and attempt to escape the miserable cacophony. But even then your walls remain as stained as your bones as the aching, gnawing displeasures of ‘Under The Megalith’ slowly unravel as filtering webs of dirt and grime; the guitars acting as melancholic… no, utterly despondent walls of slow-moving loathing.

Grave Miasma, through their slow, wretched meanderings, carve enormous pillars of billowing creepiness, as the vocal rasps act merely as condemnation to banish you to the pit of eternal damnation as another rush of frozen air blasts from the innards of ‘Exhumation Rites’, cementing you within its blubbery wall of filth and dragging you ever long into those torrid tides.

My only gripe, however, is the cover. Maybe we all see things differently, but I can’t help but see something all too cartoony. However, that aside this new opus is one of hell of an expression of grating horror.

Neil Arnold

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