��There's no real point in blustering about this limited 7" from Electric Wizard; unless you've been living under a rock for the past decade and a half, you're sure to know Electric Wizard and their distinctly British brand of blackened, schlocky doom metal, which has produced some of the heaviest goddamn albums to ever come out of this particular corner of the metal underground, particularly the modern classic Dopethrone. Has anyone else dragged the carcass of classic Sabbath into darker waters than these creeps? Doubtful. Fans (of which I most whole-heartedly count myself) can't get enough of the band's dire, drugged-out dirgery and pulpy Satanic panic though, which'll lead many to scramble for this latest pressing of the 'Wiz's Legalise Drugs & Murder 7", first released back in 2012 and featuring sleeve art that is a direct riff on Sabbath's classic Master Of Reality album. Once the record starts to spin, the match flares, the bongwater begins to bubble, and "Legalise Drugs & Murder" rolls out on huge black plumes of Sabbathian sludge. This most definitely sounds like vintage 'Wiz, that massive spaced-out doom glazed in Jus Oborn's watery lead guitar and monstrous down-tuned riffs, and it'll stick to your skull like the gooiest black tar. This one is pretty much custom-made for huge sing-alongs by whatever degenerate crowds share Electric Wizard's predilections for bloodshed and narcotic bliss, and it's pretty primed to go down as another classic jam from this massive force. Repetitive, hypnotic heaviness of the greasiest sort that burns out in a rich red haze of Hammond organs and Sab-worship as the mantra "children of the grave...." is repeated into infinity.

�� B-side "Murder & Madness" is a tripper slab of black psychedelia, a more experimental, mostly instrumental song that sees the band locking into a circular garage groove that loops around endlessly, while deranged, psychotic whispers and reversed voices and ghostly piano drifts overhead like curling tendrils of opium smoke, the sound strange and hypnotic and a bit more abstract than the usual from these guys, finally crumbling into some serious creepiness at the end.

�� On heavyweight limited-edition green vinyl.