Conan are as heavy as interplanetary thunder, amplified through the roaring black hole anus of Azathoth. A three piece, in the grand tradition of many amazing fabulous three pieces that hold a tight line and an iron-grip command over the uber-synchronised chord changes and tempo-shifts of the holy trio of bass, drums and guitar.
Two men have the task of vocalising wretched thoughts over the turgid weight of Conan. They bear it well, for the task is immense. Collectively their plans are clear: they seek nothing less than the crushing of a million skulls. Hear the roar of battle. Smell the stench of spilt blood. A thousand heads piled high like a grim mound of suffering- a blasphemy to nature. Hail Conan!