���Finally got around to picking up this skull-flattening debut from all-star power-violence unit Dead Language that came out back in 2011. The lineup for this outfit is made up of a formidable gang of contempo blast-thugs, with both of the guys from Iron Lung teaming up with bassist David Bailey (Gas Chamber), guitarist Nick Turner (Society Nurse, Cold Sweat, Walls), and noise artist Greg Wilkinson (Brainoil, Lana Dagales, Laudanum, Pig Heart Transplant), and fronted by power-violence pioneer Andrew Beattie of No Comment / Man Is The Bastard infamy. With that kind of pedigree, be right in expecting this to be undiluted ferocity, and man do they deliver. It's a short album, roughly twenty minutes or so, with the first side tearing through a savage eight-song assault of noise-infested brutality; opener "Paranoia" sets the scene, erupting into immense subterranean rumblings and monstrous slow-motion industrial churn as ear-scraping feedback and guitar noise sweeps in across a choppy, murderous guitar riff. And then everything comes unglued, as the band surges into their hyperfast, discordant hardcore, moving in brutal fits and starts, dropping from those frantic blasting tempos into crushing, angular dirge. You can barely take a breath as each song rips into the next, the off-kilter riffs scrambling over the corrosive noise and feedback that infests each song, while Beattie's hoarse, frenzied scream strafes the music with an inescapable sense of futility and focused rage. Like Iron Lung, the guys bring some almost math-rock/noise rock elements to this, with lots of jagged guitar and complex arrangements that definitely elevate this above your standard issue Infest clone, but the sheer furiousness of this stuff persists throughout, even when they slip into one of their agonizingly slow sludgeblasts.

��� On the other side, the band gives us something no less intense, but much more experimental; the sprawling "Misanthropy" combines punishing discordant dirge-metal and soul-crushingly bleak industrial drones with waves of roiling polluted amplifier rumble, forming into a monstrous, malevolent epic, a seething mass of violently spastic hardcore and looping mechanical rumble that hammers home the album's over-arching feelings of scorn and disgust, almost getting into Pig Heart Transplant-style horror by the end of it. One of the heaviest albums we've gotten from the Iron Lung label, pure intensity straight through. The album's visual design is pretty striking as well, using spot-varnish printing, jumbles of cut-up text, and reverse board printing that accentuate the paranoid, disconnected vibe of the music. A real high point in recent hardcore extremism, definitely recommended.