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The album cover features an obese woman sitting under a shower head that is inexplicably dousing her in fecal matter, which she readily smears about herself. One of the song titles is "Pack-Fucked by Ponies", and contains audio samples accordingly. The back inlay consists of a bunch of fan-submitted pictures of turds. Suffice to say, The Mung have stepped up their game tenfold in terms of how fucking outrageous their music is (I mean, come on, this album is slightly less tasteful than the Holocaust), and the quality of said music has unsurprisingly followed suit.
The main improvement here, when comparing this EP to The Mung's previous effort The Splatter Sessions, is the production job. The guitar tone is much more clear, for one, not to mention much thicker and more in-your-face than the relatively dry and crunchy tone on the previous EP. Subsequently, whereas The Splatter Sessions gives off that "basement" vibe that bands like Pencil Lead Syringe and Waking the Cadaver used at one point, Showering in Shit is uncompromising in its brutality, not unlike Big Pete coming into your prison cell at night and angrily dick-slapping you into submission. If you ask me, it's also the ideal production job for the catchy, goregrind-influenced slam death they're playing - grooves like the ones this band are playing are best when they're loud and refined, not buried under the production job one would expect from a bedroom-level band.
In the songwriting department, Showering in Shit features a lot more devotion to the blast beat than its predecessor, and cuts back on The Splatter Sessions's tendency to groove for the sake of grooving. Now don't get me wrong, this album is extremely rhythm-based when it needs to be, and when it goes ahead with one of its slams or groove section, it pulls it off with such ridiculous relentlessness that even dead people would put off years of rigor mortis to headbang to at least a few of these riffs. But the songs just feel constructed better, mostly because the momentum is carried perfectly: tension is built up by the quicker goregrind grooves for just as long as the situation warrants, and then released in one of the band's signature slams. Of particular interest is the riff that closes "Giving My Sisters the Love Blisters", which is one of those spectacular joys in life which simply must be experienced to fully capture their magnificence. The sludgy riffs which were quite prevalent on The Splatter Sessions have mostly been meshed into the goregrind sections, where I think they work better than they do when they sit out in the open by themselves. And, somehow, in songs like "Crappy Nappies Make Me Happy", the band has even managed to perfectly fit a couple riffs that hearken back to those mellow black metal bands like Wolves in the Throne Room; I can't stress enough the fact that somehow, the band has made these riffs fit perfectly into the songs in question - they don't feel rushed, or lackluster, but rather they branch out of the band's normal modus operandi and still manage to bring something interesting and relevant to the table.
The vocals have gotten the same makeover that the guitar tone has on this album - they're wetter, thicker, and more forceful this time around. The Splatter Sessions was one of those slam albums where the vocals take the back seat and let the guitars take center stage, but this EP is just as much of a vocally-driven assault as it is a showcase of the guitarists' work. The vocals themselves alternate between a low, wet gurgle (which is really something to behold - check out the beginning of "Giving My Sisters the Love Blisters" or "Herpes and Hepatitis Handover" to find proper beholding material) that makes its presence known during the slams and gives them a feeling of grotesqueness; a relatively high-pitched shout (which I'm impartial to, but I get the feeling that they're an integral part to the feel of the band) which shows up during some of the goregrind riffs; and then a high, rasping (yet still somewhat wet) screech which is utilized during the faster parts of the music. Occasionally, the high screeches and gurgles are used in tandem, and it creates a very nice, almost taunting "tag-team" effect (you'll know what I'm talking about if you've ever listened to Catasexual Urge Motivation). The songs lack lyrics, which gives the vocalist freedom to "blurqk" and "eck" as many times as he wants, with little regard for how much sense the resulting mess actually makes in a sentence. I approve of this, personally - the resulting rhythm of the vocals, free from the obligation to complete any actual words is very instrumental in making the music as ridiculously catchy as it happens to be.
The songs all hover around the two-minute mark (except for the closing track "Pack-Fucked by Ponies", which is four minutes of feedback paired with more information about interspecies equine sex than most people will ever care to hear, and, in all honesty, feels a bit like filler material), and with that in mind, the eight tracks on Showering in Shit blaze by in less than 17 minutes... But by God, even in that amount of time, the EP leaves you lying on the ground, pants down and anus prolapsed, begging for mercy. This is probably THE catchiest thing that will happen to death metal in 2012, and I highly recommend it to all BDM/goregrind fans, practicing acrotomophiles, and people who have a special bond with their miniature stallions.