Both because of what _Degrade the Shapeless_ doesn't attempt and the manner which they work around the usual pitfalls of the current scene make it a more interesting and unique record by comparison. The production is slushy but discernible, a perfect frame for Images' organic brand. Drum and chugs rattle like a cellar full of bones, punctuating stringed circles that chase and gnaw after doubled octaves slipping past and resonant chords gushing from the wound. Zig's vocals are a barbaric endeavor, hell-barks, frothing with beastly intention. Another album that ends below thirty minutes, but the riffs are actually memorable, seeding beside a recurring fear and fantasy of mortality.