Since I’d gone into such detail in review of ‘ Speciation‘ back in 2020 most of where they’ve been and why you should be hyped for a new Faceless Burial record can be found in that review and still applies, including a quick ride through their discography. ‘ At the Foothills of Deliration‘ will ultimately be received by the worthiest as their already well-individuated nuke of barbaric brutality stamping upon the realm of progressive death metal with great care, leaving a mark of skillfully mayhemic beauteousness amongst the mush of flesh left behind. Running with images of fleshy horror, transformation of the spiritual body, augury and actualization through hopeful penitence should only suggest that Melbourne, Australia-based death metal trio Faceless Burial have stricken skull and the gelatin within with mightiest muse on this third and thriving full-length album. Future-tellers become criminally insane sect as the hunger for dissection becomes a painterly obsession with the way the instrument “combats” the sacred flesh, all of it divine and glowing inspiration in the transcendental breach of their minds. They are sutured and reformed, resurrected and excised in a carnal genetic stew for centuries on end yet the fate of the seer through ceremonial clipping and picking away at clonal offal becomes its own heinous mad-consciousness no longer requiring sight, hygiene, or conscience beyond careful butchery. Picking through the entrails of the reborn, an inhumane transformation and a quick death for the guts-bearer repeatedly divined for seedlings of clairvoyance beyond. The burst of the pod, the shriek of the alarm and the eager clattering of pincers that followed.
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