Crusty Chilean ESL death metallers Unaussprechlichen Kulten sing entirely within the orbit of the Cthulhu mythos, and are obviously well versed and fervent. I haven't but precious moments to type, so I'll not mince words: this album is crucial to your understanding of the universe. Further growth will simply cease until you absorb this precious nourishment, for your minds and many wriggling tentacles.
Madness, I tell you! Some days have passed since I have set hoof in the Swamp, and upon my return I can sense the malignant verdancy seeping slowly up my spine, bleeding out of my pores. Down to business: here we have a pleasingly repugnant menage a trois between two Lovecraft-leaning South American metal entities and the ubiquitous American carpetbaggers known as Toxic Holocaust. Peru's aptly monikered Evil Damn open the gates with a brief chant invoking Mighty Cthulhu before firing off several ferocious blackened wads of poison (including a Sarcafago cover). Toxic Holocaust in turn hand out a smattering of tinny-sounding rehearsal material. Rounding things out is sketchy-looking Colombian combo Chainsaw Killer, who turn in the most distinct and memorable section of the album with their low-budget Mercyful Fate/Motorhead hybrid sound and boundless enthusiasm (and delightful ESL song titles). 
Buzzing filthy black noise unfit for consumption by human ears. The humming radiation of a thousand mad nuclear stars aligning. The choking death rattle of a million black holes, vomiting dark matter into the universe. 
Tasty Polish black metal monikered after the yellow toad demon crucial to the Necronomicon's spell for summoning Yog-Sothoth. Specifics aside, this is some truly mysterious muffled noise, as if the band was being suffocated by a pillow, or playing from beyond some dimensional threshold. Primitively and hatefully played, surely unintelligible to even native Poles, and devoid of hope and air.
Legendary Japanese noisemonger takes the croaking and guttural exhortations of the humble toad and crafts them into an album of pure flesh-searing skronk. The polar opposite of Soothing Sounds of Nature tapes, this is designed to perforate your eardrums and shred your psyche into thin slivers. Audibly gleeful in its ugliness.
No music today, deaf and dumb ones, but another variety of morbid treat awaits you, burbling up from the depths. This is a picture-book adaptation of Clark Ashton Smith's short story Hyperborea, featuring the first appearance of the Mythos's loathsome toad god Tsathoggua. Apparently this was printed in a very small run and thus remains below the threshold of public consciousness, making prime material for the Swamp.
