���Recently discovered this obscure band via Rochester, NY experimental music label Carbon Records, and while the label has brought us all kinds of heavy duty guitar-based drone and glacial psychedelia in the past, this is probably the heaviest stuff I've ever heard from 'em aside from the caveman sludge of Tuurd. On this sprawling hour-long cassette, Chillum spews out long droning streams of metallic sludge that comes across like a noisier, crustier, more atavistic Sleep, with a tendency to disappear into voids of whirring low-fi drone at various points throughout their set.

���Featuring two massive half-hour tracks, the beginning of the tape is haunted by foreign tongues speaking in prayer, their voices bathed in washes of deep murky drone as the first song "Stoned Ape" slowly pours out into a wave of elongated guitar chords stretched and bent into a gluey doom-laden dirge. That downtuned sludgy heaviness rumbles out of a thick low-fi haze, but once this gets going, the band settles into a massive droning heaviness that feels like it might be partially improvised, somewhat similar to the meditative riff-rituals of Sleep, but even more primitive, stripped down to a relentless repetitive groove. It takes more than twelve minutes for the singer to finally show up, with a harsh, fearsome scream that echoes madly just as the band suddenly surges into an even more bludgeoning dronefest. They can pick up the pace though, later taking off into more raucous stoner rock raveups and dropping into rumbling Frostian sludge, even slipping into long stretches of minimal industrial-tinged ambience at the end of that first side.

��� The other song "Further Mutate" is even more grueling, the band's droning downtuned sludge becoming stretched into an even more amoebic dirge. The guitars rarely move from a single rumbling powerchord, sinking deeper into oblivion as the side slowly plods towards its conclusion, that miserable slow-motion heaviness becoming threaded with what sound like faint Theremin-like tones and bits of murky, droning electronic noise. Over the last half of the side, though, Chillum drop back into that meditative heaviness, huge riffage woven into slow circular movements, lulling the listener into a state of somnambulance as an ocean of black mud shifting and enshrouding your skull.

��� This blast of raw hypno-sludge comes in a silkscreened Arigato-like cassette case, and includes a digital download code.