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COPROLITH
Putrescence

Me Saco Un Ojo / Rotted Life (2026)
Rating: 8/10

With its overwhelming stench of a damp grave, the debut full-length album from Canadian combo Coprolith is a welcome addition to the pungent, grotesque gallery of modern day death metal. I use the term “modern” very lightly because although Coprolith exist very much in the present, the sound drips with an old school stodgy menace.

After their impressive 2023 self-titled five-track demo, the band returns with six bulbous and, at times, overlong songs, all of which drag you into their grim waves of congealing scum. If you, dear listener, can navigate your way through the flab, you’ll no doubt discover a rancid scrap yard of scabbed, maggot ridden flesh and crumbling bones. This Toronto, Ontario-based quintet exists within the nether regions of grot and gore, and with each sordid riff and fetid rumble of bass and drum they become more adaptable to their squalid hovel. Most of us malformed death heads wouldn’t want the genre any other way and are always thankful when a band like this crawls from the sewer.

‘Sentenced To The Grave’ begins with some ominous horror movie-styled atmosphere before the guttural churning of the riffs grind in cohorts with the mouldy thud of the drums. It’s thick, consuming musical mulch which becomes even more clogged and fogged when haste is applied. Dismal in its crusty meandering, the album has two gears; rank and gloomy or faster and gory. The latter applying to the blustery smog of the ‘Birthed By Remorseless Flames’ with its clattering percussion and Incantation-styled swirls of misery.

Putrescence is layered with an uninviting and almost impenetrable caking resulting from the gloopy rolls of the riffs. There is no room for any real surprises or variety and any flicker of life beyond the dankness is snuffed out by the sheer weight of everything. Both the title cut and ‘Defiling Incantation’ ooze and slither, the throb of the gloomy percussive tolls shudder through the miasmic waste of the abysmal doomy traipse. Remote and cavernous, the album resonates with dim echoes emanated from some unbidden dwelling beneath the subterranean levels.

Coprolith are bottom feeders, lapping at the scraps beneath the filthy treads of cockroaches as the slog of the woeful ‘Possessed By Incoherent Violent Suggestions’ trickles into the psyche. Again there’s that foul percussive plod and those vile toiling riffs constructed of dried blood, gristle and fat. The vocals are nothing more than bronchial grunts from phlegm-soaked lungs; such retorts only exist within the deepest recesses of nightmarish cavities.

There’s no light here, and the stench is of sticky black blood; archaic clots which have somehow morphed into quivering heaps whose dull heartbeats have become the deathly drums of this gelatinous manifestation. If you loved the quagmire squelch of Cerebral Rot, through to the vintage vileness of Autopsy, then Putrescence is your next intrepid step in achieving crippling sickness.

Neil Arnold

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