As seemingly one of the few people on the planet who didn't wholeheartedly embrace 2023's As Gomorrah Burns as the best thing since sliced bread, being faced with a follow-up from Canadian death icons Cryptopsy less than two years later didn't immediately fill your correspondent with hope. The previous album came across with plenty of brutal aggression yet the real lack of songwriting prowess made for a frustrating listen. So, imagine how heavy the shock when An Insatiable Violence, Cryptopsy's ninth full-length since forming all the way back in 1992, completely and utterly rips the listener's head off with the best set of songs that this band has written since Once Was Not! Yes, inspiration seems to have struck again, making this sound more like the DiSalvo era albums in terms of technical brutality rather than some deathcore-infused relic leeched through from The Unspoken King.

And An Insatiable Violence is a real argument in favour of finally forgiving the band for that because it sums up the various aspects of the band's history well with the sort of storming performance we haven't heard from a big name in death metal since the reinvigorated Suffocation tore through our spines with Hymns from the Apocrypha. Of course in terms of instrumental technicality the band are all present and correct, particularly Christian Donaldson who has purged the memory of Unspoken King from our memories with his guitarwork and production duties here, and drummer Flo Mounier whose contribution to this album is worth hearing the whole thing for alone; the kind of intense, crushingly technical drum performance that he became legendary for and that should more than renew fan worship.

Bassist Olivier Pinaud is no slouch either and vocalist Matt McGachy offers very little to criticise with his rabid barks, growls, and screams across the album - he's become an excellent frontman for the band, joining an underrated pantheon of growlers led by the ungodly Lord Worm, and although it's still hard to place McGachy anywhere other than beneath Worm, Martin Lacroix, and Mike DiSalvo, for the first time in a while it does seem like the band appreciate their own history. That artwork, for instance, is the work of the late lamented Martin Lacroix, who was taken from us at the far too young age of 48 last year (his work with the band being their sole live album None So Live from 2003, an easy plug if you've not heard it!) and it fits the album well, dark and foreboding.

What matters even more is that the songwriting is much, much improved; there's a touch of melody allowed in, not just in moments like the twisted intro to Our Great Deception but in genuine hooks that allow air into the crowded room and make these a far more memorable set of songs than on the predecessor. This turns a set of brutal death metal stompers into a collection of songs that infiltrate your brain and make repeated listens to this as much of a delight as rediscovering the likes of ...And Then You'll Beg. The repeated batterings of Malicious Needs, for example, become almost catchy when endured several times, not to mention the more atmospheric and near-droning section towards the end where the band dip into something downright blackened in effect.

And there's really not a bad track present; The Nimis Adoration is twitchy and jerky, drilling into your head with precision before being repeatedly interrupted by DiSalvo-era riff freakouts, contrasting well with the following Until There's Nothing Left, galloping initially before changing into a grooving monster that not only incorporates the bass and guitar solos perfectly but manages to make this feel grandiose and epic by the end, heralding the ensuing drop off a skyscraper that is the terrifying plunge of Dead Eyes Replete. That track's chuggy explosiveness seems something of a line drawn to the past, a reflection of Carrionshine's bassy bomb detonations without being a repetition, a spiritual acknowledgement in the same way as the crushing Fools Last Acclaim reminds you of Worm's more rabid moments.

And what better way to enhance the dense darkness of Embrace the Nihility than a guest vocal spot from none other than Mike DiSalvo? Perhaps some won't be happy unless the band bring back Lord Worm at his 1996 peak and yes, once your reviewer would have included himself proudly in the Cryptopsy fans living in the past. An Insatiable Violence, however, is an argument strongly and firmly in favour of modern Cryptopsy, showing off in the likes of The Art of Emptiness the best that the band have been in in the last 20 years. It's always a genuine delight when groups can show that they still have the proverbial right stuff still pumping in their veins and although Flo remains the only legacy member of Cryptopsy, the rest of the band have here proved that they can keep up and create art that resonates alongside the classics. Even those not quite ready to worship at the altar again must admit that this is excellent death metal, a glorious, honed weapon embedded in our ears from the first listen, and absolutely a course correction following As Gomorrah Burns.