We start with Incision I. A haunted drum machine repeats hi hat after hi hat and slowly cycles through all…

We start with Incision I. A haunted drum machine repeats hi hat after hi hat and slowly cycles through all of its sounds. A ride cymbal twists and contorts in pitch introducing an unstable amorphous cloud of noise. Already a sense of forced uncertainty fills the atmosphere, the instrumentation of an indecipherable and unpredictable nature. The thick concoction bubbles up rapidly as synths stab into the goop only to recoil with long strands of mud-like slime attached to them.

Hermetic Pinnacle partway soothes this sense of unpredictability. Here the duo jump into action, Biledriver screeching as the swamp-like synths from before cleanse themselves, becoming a little more definitive, supported by a rumbling of bass drums on every beat. Even this early on we find a mesh of a number of different genres drawn together to form a hole. The fizzling synths that rise and trill inspired by dirty electronica, the bass drum itching to break into a heavy rapid four-to-the-floor salvo, the acid house warbling of light bass. The voices bandying from an triumphant, rocky chorus of voices to a rapid-fire spitting of lyrics. The duo find a home in this homogenised sound, any comparisons fall short of the sound that emits from the track.

Things slow momentarily as we slide into Sewer Cock. Detuned synths drunkenly rise and fall before catapulting into a fast-paced beat. The bass drum thuds behind a dirty high-pitched sample. The instrumentation builds beautifully as Bordello Biledriver begins to talk in time to the infectious rhythm. ‘Sewer Cock I don’t want to get my face bit’ the lyric is more than indicative of the tone on the album, a weird conglomerate of sexual innuendo and grotesquery, like one would find in a Troma movie or body comedy/horror flick (the duos moniker is more than enough of an indication). Feedback screams out as its held back by the incessant pounding of the bass. The middle of the song brings a break from it, as Biledriver dances gleefully from one side of the mix to the other. After a while its Starsore’s turn, sending a voice pulsing along with the beat. More lyrics describing defecation, goblins and morphine stand astutely alongside the hammering. The duo share the vocal limelight, filling each song that features both of them with an engaging dynamic.

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Here the album begins to dismantle itself, unsurprisingly with a track entitled OHMYGODohmygod. Drawling voices slur over malfunctioning noise, the barking of a group demented human-hounds sound behind a muffling wall. All of this strange murmuring and glitching suddenly gets swept up into a shroud of destructive energy that reeks havoc in a fiery blast of sound. Soon, flitting about in the chaos, we find Biledriver jumping from one exclamation to the next like some anime character who just ingested a dose of methamphetamine. Everything is swallowed into the warm whirring of machines as we enter into a pacy melody in Incision II.

Astral Bypass Surgery welcomes us with a friendly tone, but we’re already way too deep to notice. Unable to care what we look like as we stumble through a hallucinogenic mechanism from which we may never return. Grub Tech turns up the intensity even more as we trip and fall down the stairs of the grimey club we find ourselves in. Voices around us begin to fuse with the beats, moans of pleasure mixing with stabs of dizzying melody.

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Overrealmed turns up the chaotic power even still as the bleep of what could be our life machine chirps in time with catastrophic synthwork and devilish laughter. Biledriver teases the listener, ‘where are you in your body now?’ Everything seems to tied with themes of possession, body horror and comic monstrousness. The teasing voice swirls around our head like cartoon birds. The instrumentation screams out with a rapid, blood-hungry speed. Streams of sound fly past the listener with a cataclysmic urgency. Drum and Bass breaks blast past acid house-inspired synth sounds as Biledriver and Starsore smash sounds and genres on top of each other.

We blast into Moth Mantra almost instantly. A jungle-inspired drumline pulses behind what sounds like a small plastic rubber duck being squeezed over and over. A transition occurs into a more psychedelic, open-plan melody. Drums begin to pile up on top of each other as a voice screams with in inhuman tone. Prolaps smash the listener backwards and forewards as the drumline bursts into life, accompanied by a screeching tune. The middle part heavily reminiscent of the more aggressive cuts from artists like Rufige Kru or Sneaky Tom & Muscles Mouse. But the duo bring a much more purposely dirty sound to the fore, every song has this film of muck and dirt stuck to it.

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5Light brings happy, party-inducing piano chords as a voice bubbles and babbles. The beat for this one slows the listener down a bit more. But still this rewarding, rich texture is present. The background is full of nonsensical talking and laughing, the production is overcrowded purposely, but never feels as if its become too much. Toward the end, this painful vocal melody erupts, hammered almost into oblivion by an overactive bass drum. The sample is so beautifully placed, before being drowned out by senseless, high-pitched laughter.

Laser-guided beats greet us on DJ Nexus, an MC urging us to scream. The sensation so far is a bit like a rollercoaster that bucks and twists that little too much. The borderline of fun and nauseating discomfort is crossed back and forth so many times that the voice shouting at us to scream is sickeningly apt.

Cattle Cult brings a more metal-inspired feel to it. Unbelievably fast beats backed up by a screaming voice. The voice quickly exits, leaving a violent beat that smashes up against a wall of dissonant piano mumbles. The intensity is dialled down somewhat, but we are already careering into the next stage of hell that Prolaps have lined up.

Lord Cam Girl represents the second track on the album in which both of our antagonists utilise their vocal chops. The noise clears for a monologue from a woman lamenting on the nature of the men, climaxing deliciously with her threatening to bite an overly eager man’s dick off. With that, a bass drum hits like a button mashing punch combo. We are fired into the body of the song. Biledriver spits bars that sound like they could summon some hypermodern devil. Lyrics blaze through the incessant beat, teasing with threats of extreme violence like some imp spawned from the depths of hell, bullying the listener for having not taken acid through a catheter. This absurd, hyperactive bravado is so entertaining to listen to, like we’re in the midst of some sick twisted cartoon show. The hook crawls out of a pit of low frequency, giving praise and worship to the titular subject. More bass drums start to rain down as the song comes to a close.

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Liminal Sticky Jam provides a segue from the power of the preceding track. Steady rhythms and breakbeats play out in peace, Prolaps allowing for a lowering of vigour. A strange squeaking sound plays out a wobbly melody midway through. The way the duo welcome any source of influence is commendable, but more impressive still is how they are able to stick it altogether. As we enter Pure Mud the mix begins to fill up again with high-pitched voices before careering into a four to the floor rhythm filled with crystalline pads and warbling melodies. Prolaps begin to take a more menacing tone, using gargled voices and shrieking feedback.

God Crack fires an incessant torrent of bouncing stabs that phase up and down intensely. A distorted sample makes up the melody that carries throughout the track. The vocals take a backseat in this song, Biledriver’s voice hiding behind the infectious beat. The insults continue to be hurled, as ‘you’re a piece of shit hanging out of God’s crack!’ is shouted at full volume. The damage that the bass drums do in this album is unconscionable.

See You Soon brings one of the biggest changes in pace, as an almost aquatic sounding synth bursts to the forefront of the mix. The sense of intricacy at a lower level of sound surprises the listener. It has been such an onslaught for the last few minutes, the track does a lot to remind us of the expertise of the duo. A heavy beat backs up the beautifully positive-sounding bells.

Jungle turns into some slimy beat out of a 90s sci-fi movie in Fight [or Flight] Song. The beats glitch into a new formulation as a screaming neon synth cycles through a rapid melody. Short but incredibly effective

Sycophant Suckerpunch sounds like a buzzing little girl flying around the listeners head at high-speed, she buzzes past with the beautiful vocal melody from 5light.

Incision III begins with a hilarious spoken sample before the album breaks apart once again into Conduit. There it festers and slowly recuperates its limbs, before dialling up the pitch sending beautifully sci-fi synth notes billowing up in the air. A distorted melody somewhere between a shenai and your mum singing some nonsense melody on a dusty old home video controls the centre of the mix.

Energetic Whole blasts everything up into the air in a dubby nightmare. A deep voice stays on beat as the space station we’re on begins to career toward the nearest planet. Huge lasers fire overhead alongside a jungle rhythm, everything begins to move too fast. The image you had in your head melts away as you listen in either pure ecstasy or awkward discomfort. The album has passed the speed of light at this point.

Channel Massive brings a woman struggling vocally over a glitchy rhythm before becoming pure data in a digitised epiphany. Fast paced breakbeats fly past the listener with ear-shattering noise. A ghostly voice speeds through the never ending avenues and corridors of the beat. Some of the sequencing at this point is absolutely unbelievable. Drums fall over each other to then pick up in rhythm perfectly. Channel Massive is a track that any heavy jungle head would absolutely burst into delight while listening to, a true pleasure for the senses. The beats begin to turn to corrupted midi dust as the song fades from view.

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Released from the shackles that Prolaps have held us in, we wander through a strange icy beat toward the exit. Voices chirp in rhythm with a ballooning beat that keeps this beautifully lethargic tempo. The last few tracks have become more formulated and clear cut, and here we can appreciate the duo for their production in another way. No longer jumping from one sound to the other in a dizzying fit of glee, we get the reward of a fully formed song. And the time the track takes to build to a madness-inducing wall of sound is beautiful.

Part of me really does think that Prolaps summoned the devil when they put this album together. The amount of skill required in doing what they have done here is not within the remit of anyone that hasn’t made a deal with a devil. The incredibly intense parts almost set your ears ablaze. The duos vocals were hilarious and allow them to present themselves as a (one can only imagine) formidable force when performing live. The album Pure Mud Volume 7 is on the required listening for any journey to the depths of hell.

Listen in full/purchase on cassette or CD here: https://hausumountain.bandcamp.com/album/pure-mud-volume-7‍