Primitive Man approach sludge like a noise artist would: with sickening tones and destructive feedback wielded for the sole purpose of causing the listener as much physical pain as possible. Their latest spree of sonic terrorism is the aural equivalent of someone pissing on an open wound for 97 minutes. In fact, the album is way too long for this kind of incessant abuse; Primitive Man are at their best when they stick to a leaner run-time, as heard on breakout debut Scorn. But if you’re exhausted by this draining album, tough shit, because this trio, from start to finish, don’t care about your delicate nature. They just want to slit open life’s seedy underbelly and roll around in its depravity and abject misery by playing some of the heaviest, grinding, industrial-charged sludge you’re likely to suffer through.