There’s heavy, and then you’ve got Body Void. The New England-via-San Francisco trio have already got a name for raw, crawling, lower-than-low-tuned noise, thanks to three albums of horrible, gnarly sludge that unambiguously do away with any idea that there’s a good time to be had with it, but even by their own standards, Atrocity Machine is unpleasantly, brilliantly, lightlessly ugly. It is the sound of Hell. Humming around a central theme of capitalist horror, police brutality and fascist creep, every swamp-ish, ultra-slow riff and tortured vocal pisses sheer desperation and fearful nihilism. When everything strikes at once in a terrifying tattoo, the guitars and bass are so overloaded it sounds like bombs dropping. On top of opener Human Greenhouse, a ...