By Keith Carman
Chugging along like a steam train bound for the pits of hell, Black Cobra’s Southern Lord debut is one hell of a beast. Boasting monolithic dirges that obliterate with the sort of calculated patience that gives bands such as Mastodon power and grace, it churns and grinds with an unwavering menace. However, unlike the aforementioned band, there is an element of embittered rage and torment that ensures Chronomega‘s assault has even more girth, resulting in an imposing and unsettled aura. Opting for tectonic roar as opposed to hyperactive blasts, the album’s guttural dominance is spawned from the same viciousness acts such as Cursed and Buzzov*en were capable of at their zenith, creating one truly apocalyptic and haunting affair.