As a debut album, Pestilential Rites of Infernal Fornication embodies everything in that's endeared WEREGOAT to diehards worldwide - gibbering intensity, gnawing simplicity, a catchiness that's nothing short of filthy, frequent probing of the corners of chaos - but here, both the production and performances have been stretched to a sterling, unsurpassable limit. The mania with which WEREGOAT whip forth their foul fury befuddles comprehension; many bands dance around the idea of "ritual" - every fucking show now is called exactly that - but the trio sound truly possessed here. Likewise, no amount of nuance or nous is spared in the recording, as each detail across Pestilential Rites of Infernal Fornication is rendered in molten, mesmerizingly 3D tones; that very ritual surrounds you from all sides, and there is no escape. Altogether, the album becomes both the musical incarnation of its desecrating cover and a further, forever-endless defilement of it: the beast of WEREGOAT has arisen to stalk its prey and slake its salacious appetite.