I honestly don't know why this album exists. When there is a new scene (or trend in some cases) growing, there are obviously going to be a few types of bands. There are the "faces" of the scene that aren't quite the best, but they're the most popular and recognizable after a cursory glance overhead. There are the underground legends that never gain the popularity with an outside crowd, but are recognized as masters of their craft by dedicated fans. There are the thousands of bands that are good, but lack that special something to make them stand out in some way. And lastly there are the really awful bands that usually have overinflated egos. Human Filleted fit somewhere near the bottom of the barrel of the third category. They're no Metallica, Atheist, or Trivium, but they're akin to a Death Metal version of Thunderstone. It's not offensively terrible, but it doesn't do much other than sit there and remind you that there are more Suffocation clones than there are hair follicles on my ass.
The thing is that there is nothing here worth hating, but I can't find anything to praise either. If you've heard brutal Death Metal in the vein of Suffocation before, then you've heard Hideous Sculptures of the Dead at least twelve times over. Blast beats, guttural gurgles, fast and technical riffing, awkward start-stop sections, it's all here, but it doesn't do anything more than exist. I'm honestly having trouble thinking of a comparison right now, because most things like this are easily forgotten. I could say they are like the little plastic things on the end of shoe laces, but at least those make lacing your shoes easier. I don't think there is a practical, real world comparison to be made here, which just means the record's pointlessness only transcends dimensions beyond my comprehension. The more I listen, the more surreal it gets. It's like a boulder in the corner of the room. It doesn't get in the way, it doesn't produce a bad smell or make a mess or anything, but its mere existence is so pointless it actually frustrates you. It's strange that something so mundane can be so otherworldly irritating, but that's what it is. I can't point out any one bad thing about the album, but I seriously have trouble pointing out any one thing about it.
Chock full of clichéd and unimaginative gore lyrics, there is nothing new to be found here. Almost every song has a "been there, done that" feel to it and I can't find myself to be arsed to do anything more than just acknowledge their presence. That's not to say there aren't standout parts; it's just that they stand out so little. About 1:20 into the title track is actually a really cool riff, and the final minute or so of "Spontaneous Internal Combustion" has an almost sing-along feel to it. But Christ on a cracker, you cannot convince me that "Remembering How She Bled" doesn't sound like it could've fit on Pierced From Within with absolutely no editing. If a band sounds a lot like a band I obviously love, then said band should logically be loved by me as well, correct? Well let's say you have a son. You love him, he's your first born and you've never been happier to see him brought into this world. Well now let's pretend you get seven thousand exact clones of him immediately afterwards. Chances are that you don't want all seven thousand of these, so you have to discard all but the mighty few. If I bore Suffocation, and seven thousand brutal Death Metal bands showed up at my door the next day, Human Filleted would be in the first batch to go. They'd be the ones that would get the proverbial axe after just a thin glance at them all. They're boring, they won't make daddy proud, and they have nothing going for them that other bands don't already have and have already mastered.
I can only regurgitate the same "This sounds just like Suffocation, and not in a good way" line so many times before I run out of analogies and start comparing them to grits or rice or something else you turds probably expect out of me by now. The most musical description I can offer is that it's by-the-book brutal Death Metal with a healthy amount of tasteful breakdowns and nothing else that stands out. It was recorded, and it exists, that's as far as its legend will reach as far as I'm concerned. If they can find a way to carve their place in Death Metal, I'd be happy to eat my words. But until then, they will collect dust in the bin in the dark corner of the cellar labeled "Suffocation clones: F-K".