Leave your whimsy in your grandmothers panty drawer, forget about happiness, abandon all faith and hope, disregard your well-being and submit to the sonic nihilism of Sumac's What One Becomes. I'm going to compile a small best of 2016 list soon; Small because I seemingly spent more time last year listening to podcasts and old records that I simultaneously and unintentionally tossed up a big fuck you to all new releases in the process.
One thing you can count on like you can count on shit smelling foul is that What One Becomes will be on that list. Sumac improved on their debut album, The Deal in every conceivable way; They bulked up the production so when it's plodding, the air is thick and the form glacial. The drums are mixed with tact, the snare pop is mega satisfying and the cymbals are spot on in the fray, a feat studio-headphone wearing shitters tend to fail at.
In it's entirety this album is a towering monolith in the world of doom and sludge, bang on.
Doom on my Wayward sons,
What One Becomes
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