Melbourne’s favourite sons of maniacal mayhem Batpiss return with another slab of scabrous sludge.
Not much has changed — the alternation between a monolithic deathmarch rhythm (The Store) and a more insistent intensity (Death Will…), the vocals from lurking monotony to growled gravel swill to howled force. Biomass delves deeper into the cesspit of human survival than predecessor Nuclear Winter, yet the feverish brutality of Daredevil and Spiritually Challenged are enhanced by a clearer and direct production. A gloriously heavy, heaving dirge that doesn’t eschew rock conventions, Biomass tears a hole in the darkness with a delirious grin.
