What can I tell you about the eerie, hooded Australian phenomenon Portal? Their cosmic puddle of death metal sounds to me like Morbid Angel with all the bones removed, like the spinal columns were stripped so the nervous virtuoso flesh could find some kind of awkward new balance. The bizarre occult spirit borders on the ridiculous, but for now it’s mysterious, complete with furniture installed as headgear and at least one frayed and severed noose worn around the neck. I never expected the band to be so good live, either.
The door is open—walk through.