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PSEUDOMAIMER
The Necrodivine

Self-released (2026)
Rating: 6/10

By the look of this package it’s almost as if these Finnish death metallers have spawned from the same burst cyst as U.S. gore mongers Plasmodulated. The sketchy logo, the garish artwork, the Carcass-styled song titles… it’s all here, a spewed up kaleidoscope of entrails and entities.

The Necrodivine might be the debut full-length slab from this sick sound machine, but it follows on seamlessly from last year’s demo (Canticles For Mordophiles) and EP (Cavernopathic Autoentombment). Grim and gaudy, this eight song sleaze pit begins with ‘Necroplasm Ascension’, an abattoir of foul, stinking riffs and slushy vocals. It’s your usual psychedelic frenzy that belongs in the same fetid swamp as Wharflurch and all those other sleazebag lunatics who get high on mushrooms, murder and miasmic medicine.

This is a filth kick for splatter movie geeks and acid heads, a record that consumes its own Technicolor waste to a seedy soundtrack of grotesque skin slaps and grinding, slithering axe work that forces me to envisage images of putrid rivers gushing with body parts and blood. Pseudomaimer operate at the bottom of the barrel without shitting in the same corner as the grindcore catfish. Instead, it’s very much hallucinogenic death metal for those twisted heads who like to inhale mould spores.

‘Conclaves In Rancud Pyrexic Stiffness’ was never going to be a barrel of laughs unless the audience got stoned on the billowing smoke of burning offal. Demented, hectic and nightmarish, it’s a crusty cartoon of sawing riffs and pungent gurgles that no sane being would want to digest, and yet here I am. And speaking of offal, ‘Offal Ceraph Pit’ is another disgusting and flatulent ooze built upon those squalid riffs and a racket of tumbling percussion.

The gore-grind aesthetic is obvious, and after a few spins the vocals just become too comical to digest and the novelty wears off. Of course, this is the stall the sleaze merchants have set up, it’s their thing, and you can hear their chaotic perversion through the twisted slamming riffs on ‘Dung Bulwark (Shrouded In Shit)’ and catchy juggernaut ‘Rolluminescent Biomachinum’ (try saying that with a mouthful of maggots!). The hammers are heavy, creating flabby walls of intense grinding horror. The speed and bludgeoning suffocates, but when it’s all over one cannot help but let out a giggle towards this garbage truck of gore.

Neil Arnold

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