Of all the many sillinesses I have committed in my record-buying life, acquiring lathe-cut noise records was not one of them. Sadly, though, another rubicon has been crossed and I find myself with a copy of Omnibael’s ‘Rain Soaks The Earth Where They Lie’ in my hands. In my defence, though, assuming such a thing is even defensible, it was put out by Cruel Nature: a label whose releases I try to check out as a matter of course purely because they always tend toward the weird, and often toward the wonderful. This one had my interest piqued thanks to references to Uniform, The Body and Throbbing Gristle, all of which, it turns out, are apt. After some initial caterwauling (rending noises; howls of torment; several dozen dying drum machines pitting themselves against each other) things press into far more threatening territory, where samples and ominous thrums are cratered by dense industrialised beats and drones are fashioned into cruel, craggy peaks. Occasionally, disconsolate, semi-human voices howl and gnash, impossibly lost within the album’s unending ashscape and furious at knowing they will never find a means of escape. You, too, run the risk of losing yourself: if not to the scorched vocals or blighted ambience then to its sheer rhythmic power, that, at its best, marries the twin worlds of 90s Godflesh and Neurosis. For all its nerve-flaying intensity, it’s an album that demands focus and deep immersion – a difficult and discomfiting prospect perhaps, but one that leaves you feeling purged and bizarrely energised once it comes to a shuddering halt.