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BEHEMOTH
The Shit Ov God

Nuclear Blast (2025)
Rating: 7/10

I didn’t realise God could shit, but daft title aside the latest release from Poland’s Behemoth is rather colossal. I guess that’s all you need to know, but while you’re here I may as well elaborate as to why this is the best slab Nergal and co have spewed out since 2014’s The Satanist. Sure, even in their unholy reign, Behemoth seem to have more in common with Metallica nowadays – epic yet ego-driven, glossy yet grotesque – but there’s a lot of music on this opus you just can’t argue with.

Nergal remains his blasphemous self, raging vocally like a madman, not just bowing to the waves but hoping to consume them. Behemoth swaggers – like it always has done – with a swagger of epicness, continuing its plight to stifle out the light with torrents of blackened metal hatred.

The title track itself, or more so the promotional video for the song, is grandiose yet cheesy, but musically it pounds with a mid-tempo coldness and Gothic prowess. It’s a shame that the lyrics are so campy because however evil and wicked Nergal attempts to be, this is still the case of a trio of grown men daubed in paint and proclaiming to be at one with Satan in spite of some of the cheesy lyrics. So, the title track does enough to suggest this is Behemoth back on form; the drums are icy avalanches which create black freezing walls. The shift in pace brings an ominous air that chills with majesty and grace, two words which apply to many of the songs contained on what is a surprisingly concise platter.

Eight tracks are delivered in less than 38 minutes. There are no fatty layers here, just a slick, tight and leathery cacophony built upon flurries of dissonant deathly riffs. Musically, it’s quite the force I expected, but lyrically, well, it’s heavily layered in cringe, although then again, outside of the horrific murders within the scene, black metal has always been cringe worthy and this is coming from a big fan of the genre.

Nergal paints himself as hierarchy, looking down on the sheep of humanity without once looking in the mirror to see how daft his rants are. However, Behemoth still conjures images of grand white marble halls echoing like the vast chambers of Hell. ‘Lvciferaeon’ strikes with a deeper black metal aesthetic, the chords weave through a cold embrace of nifty percussion as Nergal rants: “If I am God, everyone is. If I am God, If I am not, None exists!”. And here lies the only real issue with the album, Nergal resorting to childish arrogance which comes to full hilarity on the title cut: “I for ingrate, E to eradicate, S for the scorn, U for useless, S for the shame, J for joyless, H to humiliate, S for thy son unloved, We are the shit ov god, We are the shit ov god”. It really is Sesame Street for satanists.

‘Sowing Salt’ boasts some interesting angles musically as Behemoth feeds us varying frosty tempos surrounded by thorny chords and jabbing percussion. Lyrically, it’s marginally better if somewhat predictable, but no longer can Nergal’s distressed sermons convince us to follow him to the dark side. Instead, I’m reminded of an 80s American wrestler confronting the camera and then the crowd with salivating mouth and bulging biceps.

Yes, Behemoth is alpha male metal with a pantomime villain at the helm, barking commands to an audience that now smirks rather than cowers. The only jump scares readily available are those gargantuan carving riffs which make songs such as ‘To Drown The Svn In Wine’ and ‘O Venvs, Come!’. Admittedly, I do want to start singing “Oh come all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant” in reference to how many of the lyrics are relayed, but then Nergal and his clan bestow upon the monstrous tirade of ‘Nomen Barbarvm’. Arguably the best song on offer, it veers heavily towards a death metal aesthetic, shifting gears to the added foams of Nergal’s grotesque gasps.

Further black waterfalls cascade on demonic closer ‘Avgvr (The Dread Vvltvre)’, complete with disturbed wails of sorrow and varying gushes of blackened death, all created within dense clouds of choking ash.

I think it’s fair to say that as peak albums go, The Shit Ov God is nowhere near prime Behemoth, but there are certain levels present that nod towards the lustful rages of The Satanist. Of course, black metal no longer has that ability to shock unless you’re a 13-year-old just getting into this sort of stuff, but I’ve no doubt that Nergal and his mob will continue to thrust their ethos into our ears for many years to come and of that I’m glad. Just don’t call the next album The Wee Of Christ or Bum Hole Of Satan.

Neil Arnold

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