Goatsblood's Drull is music to be seen through rat's eyes, to be heard through the cracks of sewer lids in your most drug-addled neighborhood. These Canadian juggernauts of bloated, blackened sludge have stirred their cauldron of creativity summoning nine new hymns of tortured, tyrannical trudgery akin to vintage Melvins, Eyehategod, and Burning Witch. At their slowest, most oppressive and ominous, Goatblood feels like a rusty corkscrew gradually being coiled up your urethra. At their most harmonious and chord-broken, Goatsblood is the toothpick-in-mouth Southern Cross outlaw walking behind the rows with the blackbird perched on his left shoulder. Like slurping sweet molasses off a popsicle stick, Drull's insular hatred and detuned diabolical depression yields a cathartic, yet snide smile on the face of the listener. With production values handled by Mr. Steve Austin of Today Is The Day, rest assured that every morsel of bombastic nihilistic negativity Goatsblood spews is articulately captured. Drull leaves you feeling judged and violated, but you'll love it because this is a soundtrack to expose the kicking and screaming victim in all of us. Not for the weak of heart, stomach, or soul…