ZEBADIAH CROWE - translated as "a dark gift from the gods" - is an enthralling enigma of depraved duo Forrrthen and The Horrid. Hailing from Hertfordshire, UK, the twosome creates the darkest obscenity of noise, an Industrial/Black/Thrash mash-up, and belong in a dank place away from humanity. They're certainly a dark gift, but they definitely don't derive from any celestial deity; most likely, they've spawned from the bloodline of Satan himself.

The 3-track EP "LychMilk" follows from the menacing album "Host Rider" and packs an equally malevolent body-blow, or rather, dismembers you in entirety. Three courses of the best-worst disgustingly delicious feast of inedible substances you'll EVER savour are slopped out in the form of "LychMilk" for your abominable appetite. Your aperitif? Blood. If you have a soul prior to "LychMilk", I assure you, ZEBADIAH CROWE will harvest it come the end of this delightfully disturbing listen and your palate will feel disgustingly cleansed. Forrrthen and The Horrid have a talent for making their music - yet to be decided if we can refer to it as such - a living dead oxymoron.

To start, "Gallows Wood" is served up like an insidious disease, commencing with an eerie downbeat tempo, muffled unnerving spoken words and a pained haunting howl in the background. Rotting you from the inside out, the guys serve up nothing short of terrifying audio. I'll admit that nothing prepared me for the onslaught that ensued beyond this point; an impure carnal cacophony that could possibly have only been unleashed from the underworld. Aural brutality and cerebral abuse are insatiably carved up in the entrée "Sabbaticus". This unhallowed, tortuously delectable din pulsates with twisted malevolent intent; I felt my body trying to cruciate itself and contort as the good Catholic girl in me fought hard against the sinful sound. Try as I might, resisting the tormented intoxication of "Sabbaticus" is impossible and anything holy in me was diluted and refilled with pure "LychMilk". "All hail Sabbaticus", and may we forever gluttonously ravish Forrrthen's diesel-fuelled riffs and The Horrid's incessant blast beats.

And for the final revolting dish, your "just deserts" if you will, I bring you "Footprints", the foie gras of "LychMilk". This is no delicacy, rather you are force-fed The Horrid's violent screams, straight from the pits of hell, with every bit of infernal demoniac quality you could want. Blackened thrash chugs down your throat and Forrrthen's brutal industrial sounds stuff you until you're fit to burst. You're simply sodomised by sound.

ZEBADIAH CROWE is filthier than a putrid cesspit with dysentery and divinely despicable. The band is odious, deliberately desecrate all and sundry and shamelessly intend to annihilate with bestial brutality like NOTHING experienced before. Did I come away satisfied from my berserk banquet? Indeed, I did. It had me retching and choking on every antagonising affliction, satiated on sin, gorged on the revolting and repugnant. Positively satisfied. Self-evisceration and subsequent ingestion may result from wanting to devour every morsel of this monstrosity all over again. ZEBADIAH CROWE PTSD ABSOLUTELY guaranteed.

The beast that is ZEBADIAH CROWE has a voracious appetite. For souls.