Time for a little trip to Mexico. Infinitum Obscure's name may sound like a Black Metal band, yet the three-piece is very much Death - apparently, this is 'an auditory manifesto of the end of humanity and the transcendence of the inner flame', and although it's not the heaviest album you'll ever hear, there is more than enough to endear it to fans of the style. Death Metal, more than any other genre, for me always has that meat-and-potatoes quality which makes any well-performed bit of grunt n'blast enjoyable and satisfying - something you can't say for the duller examples of Power and Black Metal.

I wouldn't go so far as to call Sub Atris Caelis progressive, but they certainly put work in here to make it enjoyable. After a lengthy, melancholic instrumental intro, Seeding Darkness kicks in, clunky thrashing drums, old-school downtuned guitars and relatively clear growls making this the sort of Death Metal that you've probably heard before. It's well put together, however, distinctly managing to fill the nearly six minute track length, and the kickdrum intro to Towards The Eternal Dark proves that Infinitum Obscure know what they are doing. Adventus Mortis is a piano interlude played by the talented Roberto Lizarraga, who also took care of vocals, lead guitar and bass, and it's a genuinely nice touch, as is the closing acoustic guitar of Infinite Silence.

It's the Death Metal that we're here for, however, and on that account the band more than do their duty. Not overtly technical, but clearly well-played, the band work well together and never fail to be enjoyable. Ezequiel Mercado's drums especially are a solid barrage, working well with the sometimes catchy, sometimes crushing riffs in Seeding Darkness, and he's even better on Towards The Eternal Dark, a speedy, almost Blackened invocation that had me in rapture each and every time I played it, although it's a little long at over seven minutes. Messenger Of Chaos, I follows in much a similar path, albeit a tad more melodic as Roberto's wailing, airy solos are given more room to breathe. Collustratus A Tenebris, meanwhile, verges on the symphonic, and is an easy highlight.

Nothing here is transcendental, nothing you've not heard before, but Infinitum Obscure play with passion, and they've made an album that more than fills a craving. Perhaps for the future a little more originality might make them into Mexico's finest grunty export, but for the moment Sub Atris Caelis is a fine album.