Restarting their constant cycle of death metal goodness with Nonagon (the title referring to its nine tracks, actually being their eleventh full-length) Norwegian bruisers Blood Red Throne are always a welcome prospect for these ears. And although perhaps not in the upper echelon of their greatest releases thus far, Nonagon is a more than solid album that will please fans of the group's brand of aggression. As usual, the formula is a razor-sharp mixture of death metal pulverisations with plenty of Slayer-esque thrash to tie it together, and also as usual, the band play it extremely well, if a little too safely at points. Mostly mid-paced opener Epitaph Inscribed, for instance, rolls along crushingly if predictably even with a fun bit of widdly soloing, setting the scene well with some ominous grooves but not rocking the proverbial boat even the slightest. The greatest change between this album and the previous is new vocalist Sindre Wathne Johnsen (also of Deception) yet he won't be surprising any veteran death metalheads with his nicely dry growl and wild yowls.

At this stage in their career, Blood Red Throne are the very dictionary definition of consistency, and so that Nonagon is more of the same is a welcome delight rather than an eye-rolling annoyance. There's much to praise even on a casual listen, including a beefy production from Ronnie Björnström that allows the skullhammering drums space to operate without smothering the twanging bass. And taking any random song and listening closely, it's easy to hear experience at work; the band have been in existence since 1998 and know how to construct an infectious tune out of death metal meat and potatoes. Sure, songs tend to flow in and out of each other better than they stand out individually, yet those with an ear for the hooks will find it pierced accordingly.

The interplay between melody and heaviness in Ode to the Obscene, for instance, alternatively caressing and crushing your ears, blending nicely into the following, thrashier Seeking to Pierce, which changes up the groove in a more moshpit-friendly direction. Finding highlights will be a personal delight, although those little guitar scrapes and rips on Tempest Sculptor before the mother of all breakdowns are sure to please all. As is the use of the bass alongside the rhythm guitars in Every Silent Plea's opening, or the nods towards old Amon Amarth in the riffs on the title track. You can certainly nitpick - some songs do go on just a little too long, particularly near-seven-minute-long finale Fleshrend - and this won't convert anyone to the cause who wasn't already open to the band's brutalitarian regime. Yet so solidly timeless and enjoyable is the Blood Red Throne brand that you can appreciate each new album like an already aged brandy, and this is a fine addition to their solid catalogue.