In the late 2010s, Fit For An Autopsy began to transcend the boundaries of deathcore. While still allegiant to rampant breakdowns and big, beefy roars, the New Jersey mob also dabbled in clean singing. Their guitar chops reached prog metal levels of technicality, and some of their shout-along hooks felt more akin to Lamb Of God than they did, say, Thy Art Is Murder.
On The Nothing That Is, Fit For An Autopsy don’t add as many new ingredients to their sonic salad as they have on prior releases. What they have done, however, is zero in even further on what has made their material turn so many heads.
