Complex, obtuse, cargo cult-fixated material from folks who’ve served with acts as varied as Faceless, Cleric, Starkweather and John Zorn. While very much a death metal release it’s those last two names that are perhaps the most indicative as to where John Frum are coming from sonically, spiritually and intellectually; the dense, progressive tableau they weave displaying fearsome agility alongside a sense of organic flex. It’s with the album’s lengthiest tracks (‘Memory Palace’ and ‘Assumption Of Form’, both of which close in on the ten-minute mark) that things are at their most formidable, giving full rein to vertiginous mix of jarring dissonance, carefully-sculpted muscularity and woozy, balance-altering ambience. Like some kind of grim-tasting kill-or-cure medicine ‘A Stirring In The Noos’ is difficult to get down and sickeningly hard to digest, but should at least prove curative if your system has already proven capable of handling Ulcerate, Ehnahre and other such bitter remedies.
