Muddy trails of metallic grind kick and fuss, only to trundle into s l o w periods of protracted pummelling, occasionally dithering between the two plains with some lumbering stoner grooves that are, as a general rule, best left to the likes of Boulder or Eyehategod. Not bad, but not nearly as brutal as you might expect from a record whose sleeve depicts a glowering, X’d up rhinoceros grinding human meat into the turf.