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“We’re Napalm Death and we’re from Birmingham, England,” vocalist Barney tells Shibuya’s Club Quattro.

Hold it there. Imagine Satan taking the form of a giant pterodactyl and dropping a titanic turd that splatters across the middle of England. That’s Birmingham: an unsightly sprawl, a cultural wasteland. It’s nothing to shout about. But then again, it’s a fitting birthplace for Napalm Death. They’ve never had much luck.

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