These Icelandic blackgrind fiends have been almost entirely overlooked by the extreme metal community, which is a shame...these guys have been around since 1991, for chrissakes, and their hybrid of epic punky grindcore and primitive black metal sure is pretty damn crushing. There's no mistaking Iceland for a hotbed of extreme metal activity, though, and even with a handful of releases under their belt, these guys remain a somewhat obscure band from off of the beaten path of the global grind underground. For those that do discover Forgar�ur Helv�tis via their 7" releases or this raging, little-heard album from 2002, you get a fucking ferocious blend of frostbitten buzzsaw riffs, weird pogo punk parts, ultra crusty grind cloned from cell matter from the dawn of the Earache catalog, an endlessly pummeling percussive attack of blastbeats and thrashy punk speed, rabid indecipherable screams that are sometimes run through some trippy FX, with weird little vocal/noise interludes in between some of the songs. Imagine Retro-Bution-era Extreme Noise Terror on a steady diet of Immortal, but rawer and more freaked out. This is raging stuff, but the one real mind-frying moment of this album is the very last track, a three minute blast of white-noise wall that sounds like fifty grind bands playing all at the same time, a massive caustic blast of white hot grindnoise of Merzbowian proportions that slowly coalesces into a ramshackle hyperspeed blast of blackened crust. Rippin'!