Launching forth on a nefarious mission dictated specifically by the horned master himself, Satan's Wrath stubbornly refuse to take their foot off the accelerator on their nightmarish ride to insanity and overload. This brainchild of sulphur-throated multi-instrumentalist Tas Danazoglou, has grown in monstrous stature, unflinching cruelty and sheer bloody-minded intensity over the course of its two full-throttle platters thus far, building an ominous pathway for Die Evil, its third unholy document, which emerges unto twilight in intimidating fashion, blasting their blasphemous attack into dimensions of dementia hitherto deemed beyond the pale. The formula in Satan's Wrath's cauldron is simple, and the resultant elixir delivers a feverish 21st century continuation of the paganizing infernal assault that was heavy metal at its underground mid-eighties pinnacle: damaged by the slavering spite of Venom, the fleshripping fortitude of Metal Blade-era Slayer, the nightmarish derangement of Possessed, and the machine-gun onslaught of Destruction. Yet make no mistake; this is no retro confection, no harking back to an idealised, battle-jacketed aesthetic ideal. This is a sound driven by a hard-driving imperative of corruption and malevolence, and rendered forth with an unflinching filth of delivery.
