Musically, Newcastle filth wizards Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs, or PigsX7 for the limited of character, are so deeply in thrall to the sweet purple haze of Black Sabbath’s lower end that at times listening to their thunderous doom psych battery feels like discovering a long-lost ‘Master of Reality’ cast-off down the side of the sofa, with two major differences. The first is Matt Baty’s tortured seventh-circle-of-hell howl, which bears little resemblance to any of Sabbath’s many vocalists (or cares greatly for melody or nuance if truth be told), coating the low-end rumble with a desolate, tormented wail that sounds like the post-Burning Man death-rattle of Matt Pike. The other notable difference is the length of the songs, with two of the three on offer here clocking in at over 15 minutes, testing the attention span of even the most dedicated burner. However, despite their reliance on punishing, droning riff-repetition, the band churn and grind with such devotion to the Sabbathian groove that the very concept of time becomes immaterial and the songs somehow slip by in an instant. The only exception is mid-album smasher ‘Sweet Relief’, a relatively succinct 5 minute sledge hammer of trippy wicked sludge that drills deep into the mind’s eye with blinkered precision, offering far and away the most accessible point of entry into an otherwise challenging trawl through doom’s darkest corridors. With more fuzz than a 1970s Muppet porno and more distortion than The Daily Mail, ‘Feed the Rats’ is best consumed at deafening volume in the early hours of the morning, when the soul is weak and willing, but is that niche bonezone enough? Probably not, and as solid as the album is, the overriding lack of individuality weighs heavy, meaning it is unlikely to form an essential purchase or a repeat listen for many. That said, doom fans looking to fill the void left by Sabbath could do a lot worse than dive into the abyss.