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MORGUE TAR
Immersed In Mortiferous Enmities

Surrogate Rec. (2022)
Rating: 8/10

So, I thought I’d heard it all when it comes to sick grindcore / death metal vocalists, but Morgue Tar’s rather insane “singer” has taken such outbursts to another, more sickening level. Imagine puking and shitting in your toilet, then eating the contents and throwing it back up and flushing at the same time… this is the only way I can describe such a vile expression.

Morgue Tar, for the unhinged among you, is an Austin, Texas-based two-piece that reminds me of those hot summery days when me and my buddies would order video nasties from a dodgy dealer who, excitedly, via a long distance phone-call would tell us of the latest gore-soaked tapes he’d acquired. It was at this point that us fiends realised we just wanted to stick with the classic 80s horror films rather than descend into the filthy rabbit hole of extremely sleazy low-budget atrocities allegedly depicting real-life events.

Morgue Tar is that band that wants to drag you further into the sewer of its own nightmares. Their soundtrack is 21 short yet appalling noise-fests riddled with d-beat nastiness and those horrendous vocal burps. Is it metal? Is it even music? It’s just utterly rotten, like dipping ones head into a bath of animal innards and sucking up the foul slurry. Morgue Tar batter you with this hideous creation as if to tell you that nothing can get any more perverse.

Immersed In Mortiferous Enmities is the goriest, most putrid, and noisiest thing I’ve probably ever heard without finding it annoying. A lot of grind stuff is laughable whereby vocalists sound like squealing pigs, but this borders that infected field originally sowed by Carcass and the likes decades ago, and here it’s just shorter spouts of swill dominated by those “vocals”.

I don’t know what else to say? I feel like I’ve stepped into a nightmarish abattoir of tortured animals which scream, wail and bleed profusely to the maniacal laughs of the butcher who is more than happy to not only dance at their agony, but oh too often take chomps from their writhing torsos. This is Hell and I must be a sadist.

Neil Arnold

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