Corrupted are the sound of a shovel hitting wet earth by midnight. They’re either burying something, or digging something up, and, whichever it is, you sure as hell don’t want to be around to find out. ‘Paso Inferior’, making its vinyl debut, is a funeral march for hope and happiness. Guitars smother like a damp shroud, constrict around eager throats like coarse, heavy rope while drums are the hollow sound of a pickaxe handle to the back of an already broken skull. An impassive voice intones shapeless words through atrophied larynx and spits out blood and grey meat, a slow-motion death rattle spelling out the misery of days to come, crushing your spirit until nothing is left but the shrilling of carrion birds silhouetted overhead. A bleak and ominous soundscape serves as requiem, oppressive drones and forlorn operatics, like ghosts lost in some long-forgotten mausoleum.
