Some bands make you feel all warm and gushy inside, like you’re floating on a fluffy pink cloud and playing tag with your favourite unicorn while eating rainbow drops and drinking sickly sweet ice cream floats. Gravehuffer are not one of those bands. Listening to Gravehuffer is like being coked out of your mind in an old Grindhouse theatre while staring at the mutilated corpse of the hooker that you’ve just beaten to death with a Star Wars popcorn bucket. It’s a once in a lifetime thing that you’ll remember until your dying day.
Saying that I’m a bit of a fan of what Gravehuffer do is sort of like saying that I’m a bit partial to reading comics and enjoy the odd craft beer every now and then. It’s one of the greatest understatements of the year in a year filled with huge understatements that are continually dwarfed by even bigger understatements. I love this band and the way they completely ignore and disregard genre and any, and all, sort of established, conventional underground and alternative rules. They don’t sound like anyone else, and their fusion of early Catharsis, Septic Death, The Accused and Ruthies Inn era Death carries them into uncharted stygian waters with riff heavy aplomb. Gravehuffer are a guiding light in a world besieged by darkness and you need to listen to them, and you need to hear NecroEclosion. And just like Forest Gump, that’s all I’ve got to say about that… Tim Cundle