Hatred is an act of passion. Murder is a crime of passion. The need to snuff out the life of another lies within each person. That need screams loose from its tempered shackles in the form of Khanate, a howling force of doom that tests the boundaries of low-end torture and human sanity. With vocals that sound like they come from someone undergoing the Leng Tch'e this album will set your hair to stand on end while the instruments throb and mash you like blunt weapons. The final nail in the Khanate coffin seems to plunge its way through a million nerve endings.