Should you be foolish enough to want such a thing, ‘Melted And Decomposed’ provides just about everything you could want from an album called ‘Melted And Decomposed’. Oozing, slow-mo death-doom is what’s offered up, and Sanctuarium really lean into a deep sense of rot in order to deliver it. The guitars seem positively vegetal – spongey and moist, with far too much give to them – and there’s a sense that each riff is sliding gooily away to reveal further layers of decay beneath. The vocals, meanwhile, are clogged and clotted, with each half-buried emanation sounding like it’s being gurgled up through lungfuls of worms. As if there wasn’t enough to contend with, odd bouts of ambience also arise. Rather than a chance to catch one’s breath, these only enhance the clammy dankness – foul and fetid and smothering, like the low, groaning release of gas from a corpse.