“Normally, an introductory paragraph would see a reviewer (me, in this case) make a witty or deep observation that somehow, someway pertains to the album in question. That’s not happening today for two reasons. One, trying to come up with something witty or playful during such a shit time in everyone’s lives, week in and week out, becomes draining when I possess about as much joy to throw at you as the creative team at WWE possesses the ability to write captivating, enthralling television. And two, today’s subject isn’t about joy. Or happiness. Or humor. Rather, Anaal Nathrakh’s eleventh album, Endarkenment encapsulates in roughly 41 minutes just what an absolute clusterfuck this year has been to everyone and everything.” Here’s pig cock in your eye.
