To evict is to abandon: it is to purge a space from its essence, its life, and its refuse. It is from this posture that Puerto Rican power-trio Desahuciados espouses their hardcore gospel of human ruin. Marrying the cult of Nietzsche, Bataille, and decadent poetry with post-punk and deathrock, the sound of Desahuciados is as uncompromising as its influences: an aberrant breed of Christian Death, and My War-era Black Flag,The sonic landscape of their self-titled full-length debut is an ill-mannered mix of lacerating riffs and sludgy progressions that remind us of the constant struggle of trudging through the mire of life. What happens to be vile, decrepit, and duplicitous also happens to be human. These contradictions are the thematic fascination of the group, attempting to coalesce these reptilian urges of fear and lust, hatred and loss, excess and evil, pleasure and suffering. One could say all paradises are lost—so is the human mind in this unerring cycle of violence. It little profits us to peer into the abyss. In its place, Desahuciados invites us to lend an ear and caution to the groans emanating from that dark gorge that eats away at us. If one strains enough, it almost seems to be saying: “There is no comfort for the dying, and there is only despair for the living.”