Buzzoven's albums are the stereo equivalents of the Faces of Death videos -- every song is a bloodletting. With sudden outbursts of cudgeling feedback, they launch themselves into their music with berserker intensity. Wailing and gasping like a newborn, the vocalist condenses the trauma of birth and a lifetime of humiliation and pain into every verse. As if this weren't audio savagery enough, the band also implement intermissions of loops and audio samples to tie it all together in a single gore-smeared fabric of misery -- a claustrophobic listening experience from which there is no escape. Buzzoven courageously map the oceanic depths of the human spirit with the unblinking objectivity of a documentary. Few will like what they have found there.