I loved the previous two Fleshpress albums, I and Worm Dirges, both of which are still in stock at Crucial Blast and are essential entries in the whole doom/dirge canon. Both of those albums were huge glacial slabs of slow-blooming blackened sludge, like a slower, bleaker version of Eyehategod mixed with icy, cosmic psychedelia, grim and negative and slower than time. Awesome, massive sludge with a toxic uniqueness no other band has possessed. It's taken a while, but I finally got my hands on Fleshpress' III, and it's even more intense, a strangely spacious exercise in misanthropic, textured psych-sludge, with bleak, nihilistic lyrics that read like Mike William's gutter poetry scaled down to haiku-like minimalism, and monstrous molasses riffs and tortured vocals juxtaposed against lengthy passages of heavy, clean guitar chords and spacious, minimal drumming. At times, Flespress almost sound like a darkside Codeine, or some other similiar slow-core band, playing a single ominous riff over and over again before erupting again into a crushing dirge crawl or an eruption of diseased midpaced crustcore; elsewhere, the band drops all forward momentum and spins a tarpit amp drone mantra in the void like a more defined Sunn O))). Just as heavy and oppressive as fellow negative sludge gods Grief, Khanate, Electric Wizard, and Soulpreacher, but Fleshpress are able to balance the sludge with a sort of grim atmospheric beauty that renders their music even more hopeless and twisted. This limited edition CD version of the now out-of-print LP is gorgeously packaged in a fold-out silkscreened carton sleeve that's similiar to the Arigato pak style of case, printed in monochromatic brown and silver metallic ink.