Living Hell

Despite having a vocal delivery akin to the Cretin from Dayglo Abortions completely blasting out the remainder of the singer’s throat, the comparisons Living Hell might garner from Canadian punk rock stop dead in their tracks as five aural enemas ensue with Pavor Nocturnis. The bleakest of raw torment undulates forth in a swirling vortex of misery, agony and — not to get off topic —shit-hot bottom-end riffing that invokes this image of a werewolf rabidly hunting down the members of both the End and Hatebreed as they race panic-stricken through a forest of desecrated, overgrown Flying V guitars. Even the drums sound full of anguish and despair on this EP, driven by the mad ranting of the aforementioned singer, who pretty much makes you feel like all the evils of the world are your fault, quite simply because you’re human and he’s suffering. Blatant, passionate and desperate, in regards to Pavor Nocturnis, there truly are none more black.