When is it better to reflect than at the year’s twilight? Days shined brighter this time compared to the last one, but I can’t say the same about the sonic wreckage left behind after 12 months and 365 dawn to dusk sessions of intense and not so intense listening. Admittedly, I did not step too much out of my comfort zones, or at least not forcibly, just to elaborate on more eclectic practices while sprinkling ‘philosophized’ glitter all over my playlists. As a matter of fact:
It began as a quiet rebellion, a slow erosion of faith, but soon the whispers gained momentum, reverberating through the lands like the rumble of distant thunder. Mortal flesh weakened, unable to withstand the strain of resisting the unholy power brewing in the depths. The people, driven by desperation and rage, sought answers that transcended the flesh – an escape from the limits of mortality.
Then, as if heralding the final days, came the incineration victory, an unholy triumph that left towns and villages in cinders. It was not the fire itself, but the twisted ritual that accompanied it, a sacrilegious rite, and an act of utter defiance against divinity. Here, the hammer of anti-creation itself was swung, erasing belief and reducing the concept of sanctity to ashes. In the charred remains, the faithful found only emptiness.
But the worst was yet to come. A crimson dawn signaled the onset of conquest, a campaign driven by an insatiable lust for dominion over the remnants of the faithful. Sulphurist hordes were summoned from the nether, legions of beings crafted from the essence of suffering and malice, their arrival a mass death proclamation that echoed across the desolate landscape.
Warhead worship became the new gospel, a twisted reverence for annihilation and destruction. This was no ordinary conflict, but an ageless onslaught, a battle that seemed timeless, relentless. The skies grew dark as great plumes of smoke and the stench of sulfur rose, signs of the summoning of the sulphurist hordes. They poured forth like an unstoppable torrent, sweeping over the land in a wave of malice and destruction, leaving behind a scarred and desolate wasteland.
In the end, there was nothing but silence, a land stripped of life and hope. The so-called "victory" was hollow, an incineration victory that left only ashes and despair, as the prophecy of mass death came full circle. A somber, eternal reminder of the perils of unchecked ambition and heresy.
In a realm where mountains rose into the sky like the bones of forgotten titans, and rivers carved silver veins through an emerald tapestry of wild lands, there existed an ancient kingdom known as Veridyn. It was a land untouched by time, where the trees whispered the stories of creation, and the stars themselves seemed to hum with the deep rhythms of life. In this place of mysticism and spiritual power, the forces of nature ruled as sovereigns, until the Obsidian Monarch rose from the depths of the Scarlet Empyrean.
The Obsidian Monarch was not born of earth or sky, but of something far older—an entity born in the Depths of Uncompacted Light, where time and space wove together in an eternal flux. A being of pure shadow and flame, his ascent was heralded by a sky stained crimson. The birds no longer soared above, and the winds became still, as if the world itself held its breath in anticipation of the coming storm.
War followed in the Monarch’s wake, casting a pall of devastation across Veridyn. His armies, creatures of twisted metal and dark magic, marched with relentless precision. Under the burning sky, they scorched the earth, turning the once-green fields into barren wastelands. The heart of battle raged across the land, and the once serene groves and tranquil rivers were now stained with blood. But within this chaos, a quiet strength grew.
The people of Veridyn had always revered the natural world, and in their darkest hour, they turned to it for guidance. Among them was a young warrior-priestess named Aeliora, who had long studied the sacred art of Serenity Within Devastation. It was a philosophy passed down by the druids, one that taught the balance between destruction and creation, war and peace, life and death. She understood that to fight the Obsidian Monarch was not merely a matter of steel and spells; it was a battle of the soul.
Aeliora journeyed into the heart of Veridyn’s oldest forest, a place where even the trees bore scars from the primordial wars of creation. There, in a hidden glade, she sought the counsel of the Eldertree, an ancient sentinel that had stood since the beginning of time. Its voice, deep and resonant, spoke within her mind, guiding her to an understanding that would turn the tide of battle.
“To soar above the Scarlet Empyrean is to embrace the light and the shadow within,” the Eldertree whispered. “Only through both can you find the strength to confront the Monarch.”
Aeliora spent days in meditation beneath the branches of the Eldertree, seeking the serenity that lay hidden in the heart of devastation. She tapped into the primal forces of nature, the wind, water, and earth flowing through her veins like rivers of power. It was here that she realized the Obsidian Monarch’s fatal flaw—his being was of uncompacted light, the very essence of the universe before form. But he had rejected balance, consuming himself in the shadows. Aeliora would have to channel both creation and destruction to defeat him.
When the time came for the final confrontation, Aeliora stood before the gates of Veridyn, her people behind her, their hearts heavy with the weight of war. The sky above was an ocean of scarlet fire, and from it descended the Obsidian Monarch, a being of twisted majesty, his form wreathed in flames darker than night. The heart of battle thrummed in the air as their eyes met, and in that moment, Aeliora saw the full depth of his despair—an endless hunger for power and immortality.
The battle was swift and fierce. The Monarch wielded dark magic that shattered stone and scorched earth, while Aeliora moved like a leaf on the wind, channeling the elements. For every strike of devastation, she responded with serenity, and for every onslaught of shadow, she unleashed a torrent of light.
In the end, it was not Aeliora’s strength that defeated the Monarch, but her understanding. As their battle raged in the depths of the Scarlet Empyrean, she offered him what he could not comprehend—balance. Aeliora opened her soul to both the light and the darkness, embracing the chaos of war and the peace of nature, creating harmony where there had only been division.
The Obsidian Monarch, faced with this revelation, faltered. His form, once so powerful, began to unravel, the uncompacted light within him dissipating into the ether. He was a being of imbalance, and Aeliora’s serenity shattered him.
As the Monarch dissolved into the air, the scarlet sky above began to fade, the once-devastated lands now bathed in the golden light of a new dawn. The people of Veridyn stood in awe as the winds began to stir again, birds took flight, and the rivers once more flowed clear and strong.
Aeliora stood before the Eldertree, her spirit forever changed. She had not only won the war but had become one with the forces of nature itself—a living embodiment of Serenity Within Devastation. The scars of battle would remain on the land, but within them, life would flourish anew. She had soared above the Scarlet Empyrean and had found the peace that lay in balance.
And in the depths of her soul, she knew that the war had been not just for her people but for the very essence of the world—an eternal dance of creation and destruction, light and shadow, all bound together in the endless cycle of life.
In the forgotten age of the Mystical Kingdom, nestled beyond the reach of time, a serene land flourished under the protection of The Gleam. This ethereal force bathed the world in golden light, its brilliance illuminating even the darkest corners of human hearts. People lived in harmony, unaware of the shadows stirring beneath their feet.
Yet deep in the bowels of the earth, beneath the pastoral hills, a dark art festered—necrosorcery, the forbidden magic of death. It whispered among the roots of the trees, coiling around the bones of forgotten beasts. Its practitioners were few, driven mad by the craving for immortality. They sought to harness life’s final breath, to twist it into a power greater than any The Gleam could offer.
One such sorcerer, Malreth, descended into the catacombs with a purpose. He clutched a relic of power, A Golden Bough, which once belonged to the ancient kings who could speak with the dead. Legends spoke of its ability to open the door between life and death, and Malreth was determined to wield it for his own dark purpose.
But as Malreth stepped into the cold embrace of the underworld, he did not find merely restless souls awaiting his call. Instead, an ancient, forgotten force greeted him—one born of the very first slaughter. It was a Seraphic Slaughter, the massacre of angels during the kingdom's creation. Their divine blood soaked into the earth, giving rise to unspeakable horrors. Malreth now stood face to face with them, the shadows of their wings casting long silhouettes across the cavern walls.
With a twisted incantation, he raised the Golden Bough, but the angels, corrupted by their fall, tore through his defenses. Their once-pure essence had become dark and terrible. The gleam in their hollow eyes promised a fate worse than death—eternal servitude to their wrath.
As Malreth fell, pastoral impalement began. From the very earth, roots and vines, innocent and thriving above, pierced through his body in a grotesque display of nature reclaiming its own. It was not just his life that was taken but his soul, forever tethered to the undead angels he sought to control.
And so, The Gleam flickered above, casting one last spark of light on a peaceful land, unaware that beneath their feet, the dark tides of necrosorcery and Seraphic Slaughter were rising. The Mystical Kingdom stood, but its golden era was slipping away, inch by inch, into the grasp of the shadows.
Alex DeMaria from Yellow Eyes (who also plays in Anicon and Morbid Sphere, having the side project Urushiol all by himself) has released new music under the moniker Silvaplana, an very intriguing two-track album named Limbs of Dionysus.
In reverb and unrest, abrasive, experimental, semi-raw black metal with enough obscurity to be fully underground, and benign towards the avant-garde at the same time.
Overall, a spectacle to listen to. I can't say I like every single thing he is involved in, but the creativity is undeniable. Limbs of Dionysus is an amazing roller coaster.
For long-time listeners of alternative music that pushes towards the extreme, there might be a few instances when an artist comes around, chops up your confidence and shuts you down for a bit. Meaning that, as much death metal as you can ever listen, you'll never be ready for the monstrous entity that is Impetuous Ritual. And that's just one example.
The band originates from Australia and shares members with Portal (not sure which was first), and if you aren't already frightened, you should be. In a way, Portal is actually easier to decipher than this, even though that's not a metric for anything.
Their debut Relentless Execution of Ceremonial Excrescence is so primitive and mad, with a dissonant, hypnotic atmosphere and exerting so much hatred, that going into a regular death metal album afterwards feels like trying cider after having ten shots of whiskey in a row.
The production is murky as hell, and the whole album is plain hell. Awesome riffs rise from the swamp every now and then, and bear-like vocals makes you question if these are humans or not, but not in the cute manner that it just sounds brutal. It is legitimately unsettling.
While it's a given you won't understand shit, the lyrics of the record are perfect. After you bury your head in the dirt, the music is too, and after climbing the learning curve that's required for Impetuous Ritual to make sense, this is one of the realest reasons why death metal is worth it as an art.
If you scratch it down to its singular foundational point, that's what all this probably sounds and feels like. Bestial, in slow or fast pace, as cold and desperate as an eternity in isolation.
I admit I haven't listened to their later stuff as much as I should, but I have done so with this, and maybe I gotta take one album per five years not to turn into Di Caprio in Shutter Island. If you like this, probably no one likes you. In Flames and Soilwork come with better social stamps, but hey, the path you choose.
I enjoyed Akercocke's return in 2017 with Renaissance in Extremis quite a lot, and I have raved with their side project The Antichrist Imperium (and especially their latest album Volume III: Satan in His Original Glory) more than most albums of the current decade, it's that awesome. Looking at the works of these guys for the last 25 years, one may think they are the most evil satanists on the planet.
Yet, at the time of release of Antichrist, the band was shortly featured on BBC after it caught the attention of conservative Ireland due to an upcoming live show there, which you can watch here. Apart from the sound delay that damages communication between the musicians and the panel, which just adds to the overall situation, the back and forth argumentation is one as old as time.
In lovely English accent, Akercocke explain that the fans love them and that they never meant to offend, instead they believe in freedom of speech and are against "censorship on any level" with a lot of key words thrown around without considering their magnitude.
I'd rather not talk too much about the specific album itself, this is incredibly forward thinking, unique and well delivered death metal that is instantly recognizable, and in my book this is the only band that has treated clean vocals fairly. They wouldn't top Words That Go Unspoken, Deeds That Go Undone from 2005 but no one can, yet Antichrist's quality shines.
More importantly, their stance in that video is simply disappointing, and so banal that it makes me wonder if these guys actually comprehend aspects they talk about, or is it all just teenage wondering angst without any actual maturity.
Akercocke clearly seeks to offend with edgy titles and lyrics, and playing dumb when Christian communities are offended by their material. You're turning your back on your work when you play the neutrality card, avoiding to stand by your own statements by adopting the safest, most superficial approach possible. Everything they said in that video is textbook pseudo-intellect.
Here is a snippet of another interview they did (available in full):
We also wanted to reflect the lyrical content in the imagery, hence a lot of the rather attractive young ladies that featured heavily in the Robert Nye version of Faust from where the band name came... and let's be honest, the ever-present sexism that is implicit in most heavy metal! Sex sells. So, we used it to sell. We weren't as sexy as the girls, haha!
Some other responses there also paint the picture of, well, essentially what being a poser actually looks like.
Man, these dudes may be even worse than Behemoth in that topic. Once you dare to take a step towards this anti-religious, blasphemous content, learn to support it when someone puts you in the spotlight. Or else, don't do it at all. Spooky covers, titles and lyrics don't scare anyone here.
Once again relevant:
On their official website, Internal Bleeding claim they invented the term "slam" as a subcategory of death metal as early as 1993. That's quite some time before the arguably first pure slamming brutal death metal album was released, which is Devourment's debut Molesting the Decapitated in 1999.
Voracious Contempt by Internal Bleeding had been released four years prior to that and definitely had some elements, yet it was with the latter that this whole idea got the popularity that it has. Of course, there was the Psychopathic Embryotomy demo by Afterbirth in 1994 (who have since reformed for the last ten years and are now doing fine things), the first Dehumanized albums, Pyrexia's influential Sermon of Mockery already out in 1993 as well as the Japanese Vomit Remnants, all active around the same time in the mid / late 90's.
If you're thinking this is just caveman, mindless death metal, like the younger brother of the family who's evidently a bit behind, you're right. That's most of slam brutal death today, and almost was like that from the beginning, by no means at the same level as full on old school death, or brutal death of the 00's.
Right at that time, a really particular band made its appearance, and nobody noticed. As Cadaverment, they were active from 1999 - 2000 and then put out a mini-release as Dripping in 2001, named The Lost Archives of Channeling Expeditions Through the Cosmos EP, with a clear concept about space and science fiction. Already things are quite unusual.
The EP was quite noisy and pretty crazy in content, as tempos change constantly in dusty sound that's hard to follow and there's numerous sound usage selections that will make you, wonder. Diary of an ancient astronaut? Skydiving out of the hemisphere? The second track "Interlude of Astrophysics" has some rap beats in there, and the whole thing sounds like madness. Dripping were tripping.
In 2002, we get served the debut (full title: Disintegration of Thought Patterns During a Synthetic Mind Traveling Bliss), which is a continuation of the smashed EP from the previous year, but they have by now completely let go of any sort of reason. Elements of slam brutal death are in the forefront, but the record is so unpredictable and experimental, that this lightning in a bottle case feels surreal that such innovation can fit in such a dull sub-subgenre.
Every time you listen to this, something new comes up. Gargantuan grooves, battered electronic passages, brutally filthy production, hip hop to slam and back within seconds, unheard of signatures, preludes with acoustic guitars at the levels of Dissection, sudden piano / female opera singing, all maniacally glued together in what's either a random mess, or a masterpiece. I go with the latter.
Dripping's Disintegration of Thought Patterns is one of the most unique pieces of extreme metal I have ever heard, one that makes you change the way you see the genres it touches. Much like Sigh's early works or the EP / full length of Infester, the initial listen is an once in a lifetime experience. How was it when you first listened to Intellect Made Us Blind?
It seems the band is active since last year. Could that mean they're recording new stuff or is it just to play gigs around? After Brodequin's return earlier in the year, hidden hellspawns from the past decades come back with a vengeance. One at a time.
Fantastic debut EP by this new act from Norway, an exemplary piece of epic and well-written atmospheric black metal. Multiple memorable riffs and great structure all throughout.
‘Do you not recognise the trials requested of you? Do you not hear the swarms of voracious flies? Do you not smell corruption’s fetid perfume? As moths to candle flame, so compelled and beguiled to be blind to your annihilation in the Devil’s fires.’
With “The Apophatic Wilderness”, Verberis reveals an image of man cast into the house of Abaddon. Three formidable compositions totalling 41 minutes proceed from 2022’s “Adumbration of the Veiled Logos”, recounting an entanglement of hubris, submission, worship, and ruin.
As with the past two releases, “The Apophatic Wilderness” was recorded by the constellation of DA with JSM, NH, and MP. This time, the essence of germanium transistors and magnetic tape imbues the sonic spectrum and provides an aura of vintage viscerality.
While collaborating once more with Ars Alchymiae and Magnus Lindberg, further control was relinquished to achieve a final product reaching beyond the capacities of the band’s core alone. In this respect, mixing was by the hands of Richard Behrens, whereas layout and typography came forth from an open grave.
Take heed in the apophatic wilderness.
