Let's face it, a band named FUNEREALITY was never going to be on the 'lighter' end of the death metal spectrum and was always guaranteed to be a delightfully dismal affair. The innate ability to provide next-level morbidity and unapologetic grimness, fashioned in a contemptuous, down-tuned death-doom trudge of nasty gloominess was bound to be second nature, and I'm pleased to say that's exactly what your ears are treated to in the debut full-length, "Til Death".

Before digging into the release, I tucked into the dirty delights of FUNEREALITY's website to be greeted by descriptions of faecal finesse alluding to its wares. Descriptions such as "Digital Diarrhoea", "Tangible Turds", and "Shiteaters" greeted me and roused images of "Shitfun" era AUTOPSY, next-level worship which is abundantly clear in "Til Death". The album is the equivalent of slopping out the most rancid turd-fest into the khazi - the kind where you're pebble-dashing your life away with every strain of liquified splat that hits the pan and your dignity escapes with your sphincter - after simultaneously completing "use by date bingo" on dairy products way past their best and getting a particularly bad dose of food poisoning from a salmonella-laced Phaal. The intro track screams "Acts of the Unspeakable", and the opening chord on "Black Blood" makes you feel instantly unclean, the track coats you in its sticky, dragging trudge and "Tap the Spinal Sap" licks you with its nasty faecal-stained tongue. This is unapologetically grim death metal and FUNEREALITY is proud of it. This is the "shit sandwich" review Spinal Tap so vehemently disagreed with receiving, only this one is worthy of such a hideous description for all the right reasons. It's disgustingly good.

The asphyxiating AUTOPSY-style guitar rumbles of "Knulla Lik" grab you in a chokehold whilst the intermittent D-Beat brings the tempo to the boil momentarily and slows the heartbeat of this track right down, morphing into some limping nastiness to reflect a thematic that seems to focus on wanting to partake in especially despicable activities with a corpse. "Pigs" slips out as effortlessly as a greasy log into your earholes with an acuteness for those dismal rumbles and interspersed minor riffs and the slop of "Coprophagous Necromagus" waterboards you with its clinical yet oppressive guitars. By this point of the full-length, I can guarantee that you've birthed easier shits than the ordeal this remorselessly vile album sets upon you. Squeezing out three weeks' worth of engorged constipation from your haemorrhoids riddled balloon-knot would be less painful than "Til Death", and does FUNEAREALITY care? Not really.

The album is controversially gnarly, it's debauched and dirty, it's base, and has the sonic scent of a septic tank with the runs about it from start to finish with the gruffly old school style vocals carrying the weight of filth brilliantly. The tracks gurgle like the bubbling faecal foam expelled from a waste pipe, the mephitic vapours of "Ett Ynkligt Krak" hit you with a dizzying mix of tempos, forced chugs, and injections of contrasting crisp solos, whilst "Drink Your Blood Eat Your Skin" ups the ante and pulverises you with drums set to annihilate and leave skid marks so awful in your pants, that the only feasible solution is to incinerate them. "Til Death" isn't meant to be comforting, nor is it designed to bring any warmth to the soul. This is sadistic listening intended to sodomise you with sound, so naturally, the production is stripped bare with the sort of rugged DIY authenticity that only makes the listening experience filthier, creating something wholly putrid.

If you want some dirty Swedish sonic skat, get deep into the bowels of FUNEREALITY's, "Til Death". Make sure to have a week-long bath in bleach afterwards because you're going to feel abused.<