Anaal Nathrakh

This miserable, nihilistic English duo have always been a personal favourite, with their insanely negative take on blasting, electronic-tinged, freaky black metal. And with Passion, they keep things going down the same path, not breaking new ground, but staying true to their messed-up vision. And that's where the problem lies: a few albums of this much hate are great, but at some point before this sixth album a point was reached where you really had to ask: is this much one-dimensional grimness a good thing? If the answer is, 'yes,' then read on. "Drug-Fucking Abomination" does the majestic melodic black metal thing straight into crazy blasting then weirdo singing, which works, kind of. Following up that seven-and-a-half-minute tune is the blasting simplicity and brevity of "Post Traumatic Stress Euphoria," with its crazy multiple screaming vocal tracks and no discerning anything. "Tod Huetet Uebel" is so weird it's almost a parody, like the band are poking fun at Macabre. "Who Thinks of the Executioner" is a late album highlight, with tons of psychotic electro blip-grind to continue the disorientation. And, man, at that point, you're either exhausted from the hate or you're ready for album number seven.