If you took the punishing sledge of Streetcleaner (1989) and mixed it with the experimental, sterile nihilism of Pure (1992), then you'd have something resembling this third album. That should mean it's another perfect score, but something went wrong. It's not the music, it's the production, which is much too clean and much too perfect. Godflesh should be a raw, open wound, not a sutured appendectomy scar. It's still heavier than a lorry load of bricks, but it pales in comparison to what came before. The 24 minute ending track is interesting.