HUMAN CULL 'Stillborn Nation' T-Shirt + CD

An unnatural stillness, but for the crumbling of brutalist tower blocks and croaking iron rods, roads strewn with rusted cars and bleached bones, a whispering wind battering the skeleton of civilisation with irradiated dust and ash, no organic matter just a blur of grey's and browns beyond the horizon. This is the future, this is the prophecy as foretold by Human Cull.

Doomsayers in the Neo-Malthusian school of thought Human Cull may have quite possibly dropped the most inhuman full length of 2013, Still Born Nation is as just about as brutal as it gets, evacuated of all majesty and nicety for a purely destructive musical experience that yields apocalyptical afflictions and traumatic repercussions best left for psychological textbooks. Still Born Nation builds upon that War, Hate and Misery vibe that crowned Bloody Phoenix amongst the grittiest and nebulous of the crusty grinders, bringing whole new levels of punishment as their shrapnel wrapped fists enter an unyielding flurry of blows shattering the senses with each and every strike. The strategy if we can call it such, a one dimensional get up that plays out like so: endless pummel and no compromise, this is not just a general rule of thumb, but the very paradigm to Human Cull's decibel firestorm. No single note or howl even on the microscopic level misdirects or poses detriment to the warpath nor the ferocity of the assault, in fact the very existence and utility of every note is to tote that industrious continuum of carnage. A solitary strategy does not yield solitary results however, expect a dynamic interplay of catatonic emotions to besiege you, tortuous blends of fear, pain, misery and anger all bleed into one another leaving you fatigued and traumatised, no reprieve in sight. Some will cower and others will stand tall to the punishment, but in their end none are spared the onslaught, for even those battered few able to withstand the seemingly endless artillery barrages of blast beats, demonic howls and cleaving riffs will find themselves chocked on the noxious smog of 5 and a half minute final track behemoth Echoing Silence , a flesh searing soundscape built to indiscriminately gas one and all in a pyrrhic act of vengeance.