It would be fair to say that Ampütator won’t be entering the Eurovision Song Contest anytime soon. From the artwork featuring some nightmarish spawn of Leatherface atop a mound of dead babies, to the music itself, which sounds like someone hired Nattefrost’s evil twin to score the Marquis De Sade’s life story, the piece of ‘art’ that is Deathcult Barbaric Hell screams filth. And no, we’re not talking girly vampires, pseudo-gothic Cradle Of Filth filth. This is gangrenous tramps in a vomit-smeared mudfight over a used needle, Bestial Mockery attacking Impaled Nazarene with Anaal Nathrakh’s removed rotting limbs. This is filth.

This is also rather good. Songs have a uniformly dark atmosphere and are more than headbangable due to the added thrash, death and grind elements, building upon the murky blackness at the heart of the music. A track like Sarin Death Vengeance clatters along speedily, melding the bleakness of Krieg with thrashy catchiness and that peculiar melancholic type of melody that can turn an otherwise dull Darkthrone cover band into something quite spectacular. That’s not to say that Ampütator is a Darkthrone clone, far from it. The American two-piece are more than capable songwriters, adding little hooks and breakdowns in, along with the required obscure samples (thankfully kept to a minimum) of gunshots and squealing. Even non-Black Metallers should have a good time with this, as songs are kept short and sharp, rarely going over four minutes and never dragging.

In terms of skill the band are quite adept, JF’s guitar and bass working ceaselessly whilst DM hammers at the drums and spews his sick vocals over the resulting sonic splatter. This won’t be the most tight and technical music you’ve ever heard, certainly, but you get the sense of talented musicians holding themselves back rather than weak ones stretching themselves beyond their talents. Despite this, you’re not going to hear anything a devoted Black Metalhead hasn’t heard already in the past few years. In the future Ampütator may well produce something truly unique that goes even deeper into the dirt – the band is capable of it. Until then, be satisfied with a thoroughly grimy mudbath, a swim through disease-clogged sewer waters that’ll leave you at least twice as unhealthy as you were before. Deathcult Barbaric Hell doesn’t so much scratch an itch as it infects it, but it’ll be the most satisfying infection you’ve ever had.