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ECTOVOID
In Unreality’s Coffin

Everlasting Spew (2026)
Rating: 7.5/10

Eleven years after their sophomore outing Dark Abstraction, and seven years after their Inner Death EP, Birmingham, Alabama-based death metal act Ectovoid shuffles from the cold mists once again to spew forth a slithering heap of old death metal.

Always coated in a sediment of cosmic mystery, the combo once again twists your brain with tales of complex celestial horror. They announce their return with the colossal ‘Collapsing Spiritual Nebula’, the sort of sonic hyper blast only a band like Ectovoid could construct. While astronomers have the privilege of looking through high powered telescopes to view the swirling mass of infinite space, Ectovoid provides the equally fathomless soundtrack; an otherworldly smothering of kaleidoscopic terror constructed of Immolation-styled cavernous bellows and sediment blusters of space dust riffs. Every percussive rush clusters like immense cloud formations, churning in its own gaseous cacophony of gloom. Thick, billowing ever-revolving riffs clog the ozone filters, densely populating every crevice with amorphous atoms of doom.

‘Irradiated Self’ is of a more direct old school death metal design, galloping with bluster and leaving a trail of swamp vapour from its percussive charges and horrid vocal emissions. Ectovoid are the spores and toxic particles which shower down from the layers of smog as the turbulence of the title track creates a thick layer of fetid foam. Every gush is intoxicating, perversely and vigorously churning like a subterranean bowel erupting from some distant planet.

Much of what’s spewed up has pace, but occasionally the posse lowers itself to a despondent, menacing trudge, although that’s no real surprise considering Ectovoid consists of members from Seraphic Entombment. Thick walls of surreal flab drip with stirring, miasmic foulness as ‘Dissonance Corporeum’ and ‘Erroneous Birth’ discard shards of splintered gloop as clammy cascading riffs stir continuously.

It’s all very dank and dense, but the peaks are scarce. Instead, In Unreality’s Coffin is one blubbery bulbous sepulchral sack that rarely excites but seems happy to revel in its own carcass canopy of cosmic filth. There’s nothing new here, just Ectovoid slithering on regardless.

Neil Arnold

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