GOREPOT: EXTREME BONGFEST: Enter the pummeling insanity of controlled splatters, winking chunky riffs -- booty-shaking, spasm-inducing goop slopped into your ears, drenched down your throat-hole. Shut your eyes and bliss. Sew shut your mouth. A dragon lurks in the bowel-caves, just south of the green-lit void. There are entrails dripping cryptic messages from the ceiling. Squealing beasts. Tumultuous comes to mind. And it's the marvelous churning energy of this Gorepot experience, coupled with the weird doses of frenzied samples (inserted to amuse, no doubt), that ignite its messy slam splendor and transcend this metal beyond anything remotely "normal."
We have slipped beyond mere grinding. We are vomit chainsaws and teeth wet with green gore, tripping eons into hyperspace on the best cannabis sativa. Inhale the syrupy strings. Make headbanging great again. And churn. The hole widens. This is a holy gape, a twitching blender of disgorged skin. Tear the leaves into digested bits and flay the haters. Exhale. We have reached the extremity, the limit-space of the slam-vortex and it's surprisingly fresh here, moist here, crammed cozy with slime monsters, bare-chested maidens, and sewage creatures of perpetual rot. You're sure to find a home in the gurgling pool of your own melted ears. Listen closely. The resonance lingers. Let the smoke drift, cavernous and sublime.