Californian trio Black Fucking Cancer are clearly not messing around. It’s hard to think of a more misanthropic band name, even before we take the f-word into account; this isn’t just cancer, one of the most horrible diseases in existence, it’s black cancer. So “Black Cancer” isn’t expressive enough a band name to get your philosophical message across? How about Black Fucking Cancer, for the ultimate in depravity, the opposite of virtue-signalling! It’s the sort of band name that tells any black metal or extreme doom fan that there’s something worth paying attention to, the type of ‘gives no fucks’ title that makes its non-commercial intentions clear – don’t expect to see BFC signing to Nuclear Blast or touring with Cradle of Filth any time soon. And musically, the band back their name up, opener A Sigil of Burning Flesh savage and grinding after a brief industrial intro. Elements of other black metal nasties like Antaeus and Craft are here in the faster moments, but Black Fucking Cancer have their own sound, orthodox black metal given a sludgy makeover and twisted into chaotic song structures.

The album really comes into its own in the twelve-minute rumble of Acid Ocean, the riffs starting to mirror the chaos shown in the structuring as it sounds like some lost Mayhem album from the early noughties. Galloping blasts that lead off into nothing, rasping vocals ranting incoherently, riffs that veer from blackened prog to pure black/thrash, slowing down for moments of near-catchiness before shooting off again… it’s a hard formula to follow initially, but is undoubtedly enjoyable for black metal fans who prefer their music to resemble a trainwreck rather than a rigid machine. It approaches grindcore at moments of speed, but is equally happy to throw in a lengthy droning ambient section in the second half, each of which practically turn Black Fucking Cancer into a different band, but each of which also keeps the hellish atmosphere alive. This variety continues through the album, Blood Stained Whore devolving into doom and feedback, leading into the torturous SinnRitualVoid, which is more noise rock than black metal at moments. Yet the underlying atmosphere of dread and hatred is more than enough to propel it into the latter genre, if the sudden lurches into speedy blackened grinding sections weren’t sufficient.

Shorter, sharper, shocks like Wall of Corpses make for something of a breather after these lengthy, suffocating pieces, although they’re never as straightforward as they seem, and the juxtaposition of the faster and slower elements to Black Fucking Cancer’s sound is always a compelling one. I started writing this review mainly to make jokes about the band’s name, but their music soon gripped me. And although things could be tighter and more focused in places, particularly on the longer tracks, to avoid the suspicion that the band are a little too complacent about songs meandering, this is still relentlessly grim and caustic black metal unafraid of stealing influence from other genres to its betterment. Pretty fucking good.