Does that name sound familiar? If so, it might be because we included them in a post we did about a month ago (here). They were part of our sequential treatment for the Saturday morning blahs. Back then, we had two songs available from a an album-to-be. We wrote this about them:
“The music reminds us of the almighty Fleshgod Apocalypse and the equally almighty Decapitated. It’s faster than a cheetah at dinnertime. It leaps like a hare with its ass on fire. If it don’t wake you the fuck up, then it’s time to call the morgue.”
That was then. Now we have the entire new album by Immersed, called The Ire of Creation. We have eight songs instead of two. We have similar impressions — but more so.
Imagine that you’re a stalk of wheat, in a field of wheat stretching as far as the eye can see. Imagine that a threshing machine is harvesting the field, except it’s running at the speed of a Formula One machine, cutting a broad swath through the waves of grain as if the stalks were ephemeral, the tops flying like the scattering of sunlight on a surging stream, the machine moving as if nothing but Armageddon could stop it.
Now you have an idea of what Immersed inflicts. It’s consuming and cathartic and it leaves little room for breath. (more after the jump , including an Immersed song. . .)