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Old black-metal practitioners never die, but their puns get slightly whiffy. Incineratehymn finds vets Deicide listlessly picking through the same old pile of bones, a shadow of their once hell-raising self. Where Deicide once seemed to be the unimpeachable paragons of all that is evil, Insineratehymn finds them playing second fiddle to the educated blasphemy of Marilyn Manson , or competing with the industrial thunder of Type O Negative. What once was radical now seems slightly quaint. Meanwhile, the music--never the most convincing example of the devil having all the best tunes, it has to be said--rests upon indulgent guitar solos and chugging metal squall. Perhaps it's time for them to meet their maker. Whoever that might be. --Louis Pattison