Still got that “classic” Swedish death sound: Unmistakably gnarly guitars, fuzzy production, semi-melodic riffs (but not Gothenburg melodic), and quick tempos.
The Art of Dying is the sound of a creative entity so far beyond rudimentary thrash, that they can’t even fake their discomfort in “returning to roots.”
Their sound drips with old school analog and the occasional cat-scratching record. It raises your temperature incrementally, like a locomotive building speed.
Near-infinite doom, My Dying Bride ground up by sort of gravelly Entombed tones, death vocals, and Neurosis chill-outs added, just to make you extra sad.