Tomb Mold Manor of Infinite Forms

Tomb Mold Manor of Infinite Forms
8
With the grace and subtlety of a starved, rampaging horde of mutant degenerates, Toronto perpetrators of audio torment Tomb Mold maintain their hot streak on Manor of Infinite Forms, which invigorates brutality with a glorious symptom of the bizarre. Tomb Mold flaunt a knack for songwriting that can disorient and surprise, with a headlong drive that rarely looks back, but chugs on from one infectious riff to another. Songs retain layers of personality, and can be recalled for not simply one key section, but many in an unceasing array. This gives Manor of Infinite Forms a more-than-usual replayability factor.
 
The rotten swagger in a song like "Final Struggle of Selves" is electrified with an unorthodox style of play that gives Manor of Infinite Forms a particular character that skews from mere conventional death metal. Another great example is the spinal riff in "Abysswalker," which seems balanced on a wire, on the brink of falling off, before it sticks the landing and kicks you in the balls. "Chamber Of Sacred Ootheca" cannot go unmentioned; it's a downward tumble into the grimy depths, excreting groove and momentum.
 
Taking the lumbering weight of Bolt Thrower with an alien edge of Schuldiner-esque guitar, Tomb Mold infuse a heightened vitality into their craft that never strays too far from the dismal heaviness, but neither is it content to sit idle on what is expected. (20 Buck Spin)