Satyricon & Munch (2022)

You could see Satyricon & Munch as the second half of the experiment they started with Live at the Opera, but while the former was a direct interpretation of the band's black metal sound into some choral and grand, this is instead an attempt to translate the works of expressionist Norwegian painter Edvard Munch into a dark musical context. This is far less accessible, granted, though there are some parts with acoustics or other softer moments that make for perfectly acceptable background as you're browsing through the deceased collaborator's artwork. It's a curious mash-up of mediums reminiscent of Metallica's Lulu with Lou Reed, only this isn't so tragic, poetic and vocal, but rather minimalistic and sees Satyr and Frost branching out into new styles themselves.

LOTS of ambiance and noise here, and I can honestly say that they do a decent job getting their feet wet in that genre, and in fact some of those brooding moments are the most immersive of the experience. There are a few drones which grow obnoxious as drones do, and some light industrial-feeling percussion that often breaks out in the distance to cool effect. Orchestrated keys, slight dissonant or distorted guitars and rolling percussion often give the record some martial qualities, and there are also some very minimal, spacious synth parts which are quite absorbing when they arrive deeper into the track. Oh yes, this is just one track, almost an hour long, and I think that presents the biggest hurdle towards appreciation, since you have to take the more somber or soothing moments along with the bizarre and annoying all in a single sitting, but if I'm being completely honest with you, I'd say there are probably 30-40 minutes here which I found to be a pleasant or perturbing escape, and the rest is chaff that does little more than extent out the length of the album.

Of course, I'm not standing at a museum exhibit while hearing this in the background, I can only sift through online images of Munch's works, so the maximum impact might be one you had to witness at a particular time and place, and I can forgive the audio work that much. However, I can't at all find fault with the willingness of these longstanding black metal mavens to involve themselves in these sorts of cultural projects which not only open the minds of others who might have a dim view of black metal, but also can expand Satyricon's own portfolio of sounds they can integrate into their future material, and I hope to an extent they will. This might be the most 'outside' thing Satyr has worked on since he was in the folksy Storm, and though I can understand while few will enjoy it, and I myself even had a negative reaction the first few times I listened, it has a few moments of sublime impact like the art it is providing tribute to and accompaniment for. A very Ulver move, gentlemen, and if anyone was into Themes from William Blake's The Marriage of Heaven and Hell they might want to give this a try.

Verdict: Indifference [6.5/10]

https://www.satyricon.no/

Blut Aus Nord/Ævangelist - Codex Obscura Nomina (2016)

One of the more esoteric split pairings I've seen lately, there was no way I wasn't checking this out, and much to my satisfaction, it's just as strange and effective a team-up as I might have expected. French veterans Blut Aus Nord are known for a wide body of offerings that range from more traditionally or folk-flavored black metal full-lengths to peripheral release cycles that flirted with industrial-tinged escapism to a fault. Ævangelist is the project which steered prolific US musician Matron Thorn away from the raw black metal musings of his mainstay Benighted in Sodom to a new depth of ugly, atmospheric, compelling death metal which has proven to be among the most unique and alien in an ever-crowding field of cavern core morbidity. How would the two of these groups sound in proximity?

Well, that's not exactly the nature of this release, and I feel both bands distinguish themselves pretty clearly to their own back catalogues rather than rely too much on sounding flush with the other. There is certainly some overlap due to the outsider dissonance practiced by both, but it's almost like a line drawn in the sand where the four BAN tracks end and Ævangelist's 21+ minute opus begins. As for the former, do not expect Memoria Vetusta IV material here, their offerings are more in line with the 777 trilogy, only cast in an even darker pallor redolent of their mid-oughts fare (MoRT, Odinist, etc). An emphasis more on raw industrial or trip hop beats drowned in resonant, gut-wrenching distortion, discordant and unusual effects and guitars, foul whispers and growls, and a general clamor that is in its own way just as oblique and disgusting as any of the harsher recordings they've put out over the considerable backlog. It's almost like a bastard spawn of DJ Shadow and Godflesh, only far more cacophonous and unusual than that union could allude to. Or if the producers of the Silent Hill video game series passed on Akira Yamaoka's eerie proclivities for such beat-driven fare and then greenlit Vindsval and company to 'make it their own' after hearing Sect(s) or The Desanctification. Partly hypnotic, always repulsive.

"Threshold of the Miraculous", Ævangelist's contribution, is rawer still, and spans a much broader gulf of styles within its boundaries than even the four BAN cuts combined. Lots of tinny electronic impulses here, sudden shifts in tempo and instrumentation where the grimy dissonant guitars erupt, and clearer growled vocals than on the band before them. It's par for the course that the band is so disheveled and nightmarish in scope, but I couldn't help feel here that the length of the track was working against it. There were several impressive atmospheric parts, with the French narration and so forth, but a lot of the heavier sequences just sort of randomly appeared and disappeared and it did not gel together as a compelling whole, whereas I've really enjoyed the lest swollen material they've put out on albums like De Masicatione Mortuorum in Tumulis. I was more partial towards the Blus Aus Nord stuff, but even that didn't quite grasp me consistently over its own 20 minute presentation, it was simply fascinating to hear them spew forth those big beats and then slather them in dementia.

All told, this was a pretty interesting listen that is worth hearing if you're deep into either (or both) of the acts involved, but not mandatory when they've got much stronger exclusive material. The two 'sides' of the split function in tandem, yet I didn't feel that they both stood out equally. However, I don't think there's any question that Blut Aus Nord and Ævangelist continue to take chances, and their work will ebb and flow to particular audiences based on what eras or phases of their eccentric histories they were most enthralled by. If you loved the 777 trilogy but desired it to go a little further out on a limb, it's probably worth checking this out, even though it's not quite so immersive and doesn't last the duration of spinning yourself straight through all those records in succession. Daniel Valencia's cover work here is also pretty neat.

Verdict: Win [7/10]

https://www.facebook.com/blutausnord.official 
http://www.newobliviongospelmusic.com/

Jute Gyte - Ressentiment (2014)

I'd like to afford myself the convenience of dubbing this or any other Jute Gyte album 'fucked up beyond recognition'; only by Adam Kalmbach's standards, Ressentiment is honestly a rather accessible experience, at least as much as anything else he's issued from the heavier half of the project's discography. That's not to say this is safe for family gatherings or airplay at a local retail outlet, but here he's reached a new height of broadening the scope of his dissonant, dramatic composition style to better intertwine the black metallic traits with a flood of caustic (but warmer toned) post-punk or post-rock experimentation which, unlike most of the inoffensive stuff out there on the market to bear that 'brand', actually lives up to the descriptor. The third in what I might incorrectly assume is a triptych of microtonal guitar driven efforts, he puts the technique to excellent use here, in the most unexpected of contexts...catchy songs.

Let me clarify that, since that term might not mean the same to myself as other folks. This is not the soothing, pop-glossed sort of catchy, but droning, oddly ebullient passages of rhythm guitars that ingrain themselves into your conscience, dowsing it in their alien landscape while Kalmbach's bass lines seem to develop themselves along busy, industrious, factory floor lines, and his grainy vocal ravings remain rooted in the black metal tradition he has gone Kafka on, peaking with the passionate howls of "Worms rob the honeycomb..." near the close of "The Grey King" (and the disc). There are other traces of that lineage here, in the form of a few hyper-blasted passages in which the rhythm guitars transform into halos of whirring hornets, but Ressentiment works its best where it remains at a moderate or slower pace, with the jangling guitars or simultaneously driving/laconic chords who seep through that strange microtonal tuning. For instance, he transforms the opener from a surge of disheveled higher pitched warp-riffing to a slower roil accented by these incredibly effective cleaner guitar lines, the whole process sounding like one tragic mistake that turns out...isn't. It's that sense of constant collision between the listener's expectations and the direction he's steering his chord and note progressions which keeps the material constantly fresh and engaging, even if it never hinges upon the consonant comfort zone most rock and metal music dwells within. It's 'art metal', but in a finer sense than just splashes of colorful paint...

Jute Gyte is more like the work of a forgotten master, hanging in the corner of the gallery where most with only a superficial interest in the museum can just ignore it. Sort of like the classics he mines to represent the face of the music. You might also think of this as an Erich Zann transcribed into our shared, non-fictional universe (I know, that's a bold assumption on my part). Every few months, Kalmbach revisits that otherworldly muse which guides him, and commits visions of the unknown and obscured straight to the earspace of those daring enough to loiter about the Rue d'Auseil and experience it. On a base level, Ressentiment is resplendent ugliness set to gnarled, visually stimulating poetry, but the twisted mind can invert it right side up to something of both abstract melancholy and fractured beauty, reactions constantly being generated for me throughout the six tracks and 56 minutes of unhinged escape. Does it go 'off the rails'? Sometimes. Was Jute Gyte ever ON the rails? Oh, no. Ressentiment will prove no surprise to those who have come across and appreciated his previous output, but it retains the project's irreverent relevance in a sea of sameness. This album isn't going to convert the crabcore elite or anyone who drowns his/her blue collar sadness in an Alestorm record, but Jute Gyte remains one of our most creative and challenging American black metal extracts.

Verdict: Win [8.25/10] (silent hammers of decay)

http://jutegyte.bandcamp.com/

Túrin Turambar - Rzeczpospolita Czartowska (2013)

Apart from its mighty death metal armada, which has long ago achieved international notice thanks to groups like Behemoth and Vader, Poland also harbors a less outspoken black metal scene, a slice of whom could be considered to toil around with the genre and offer some atonal, mildly experimental variations on the theme. I speak of groups like Furia, Non Opus Dei, MasseMord, CSSABA who take a slightly left of center approach to songwriting that translates into a more memorable listen than if they simply blended in to the bulk of European black metal acts in impersonating the Scandinavian forebears. While not yet at the same structural or conceptual level as those I just listed, Túrin Turambar offers us a very flexible, almost jammed out selection of black metal or black/thrash bastard riffs which shifts tempos often enough that it's simply not your usual volley of dissonant black metal blast beats, and there's a real sense of 'exploration' as you listen through the track list, even if a lot of the actual progressions are primitive and aggressive, rather than atmospheric or haunting...

However, there are exceptions, like the intro to "Jazda", which is a sparse, jarring landscape of dissonant notes set over grimy, distorted bass guitars, or "Więzienie z kości" where some harmonics and jangling cleaner guitars strike against some drum grooves, which feel almost like the band are improvising, Or a piece like "Rok olimpiady" which has a heavy, drudging rock architecture with some spy-like bass structures, and "Autodefenestracja" where it's more of a direct, discordant slew of chords. Here the band almost entirely escapes the 'metal' brand, and where Túrin Turambar begins to flirt with the unusual, at least in terms of its parent genre. Elements of jazz, alternative rock or post-hardcore creep into the framework, not to the extent of something like Italy's Ephel Duath, but enough that it's clear these guys are drawing upon more than one bag of tricks. Unfortunately, I felt like a lot of the ideas were only half-formed, and that just in selecting some left field chord choices, they don't necessarily assemble them into a memorable product for the listener. So in truth I actually found the more intense metal sequences to be the superior points on the album.

Biggest problem, though, is the production, which is more like a rehearsal session with a recorder running than a polished studio outing. Which wouldn't be an issue other than the levels felt a little unbalanced. For one the guitars are just too loud, boxy and bulky for my liking, even if I can constantly understand what they are playing. Same goes for the bass guitar. The drums are more modest in terms of volume, but I did not like some of the individual sounds like the snare. The vocals are really raw, with a harsh and nihilistic bark that might have benefited from a fraction more reverb, though the guy can sustain a snarl well enough on his own. All in all, it's definitely loyal to that jamming vibe I mentioned earlier, which is probably cool for a listener who loves live recordings, or rehearsal demos, and I also think it's pretty honest...but Túrin Turambar would sound a lot cooler if they went wilder with spacey effects and atmospheres. Rzeczpospolita Czartowska seems 'strange', but not strange enough if that makes any sense.

At any rate, the album was at least not one you hear every day, and this sort of unfiltered artistry is not unwelcome in my book. I'll say one thing: I had no idea what to really expect next, since a lot of the tunes throw you a curve ball in either the intro sequence or during a bridge. As far as black metal, or thrash and groove riffing, they're not incredibly creative, but also not so bad. Some of the sparse death metal styled tremolo riffs were bland, but nothing here is repeated unto oblivion to where you can't stand it. I was probably most mesmerized by the final tune, "Deszcz III" with its sampled precipitation, ritualistic guitar rhythm and the pounding drum of the intro, but there are definitely a lot of 'what the hell was that?' moments that prevent it from becoming monotonous. A curious sophomore, but they should crank up the oddity and atmosphere.

Verdict: Indifference [6/10]

http://t--t.bandcamp.com/

Jute Gyte - Verstiegenheit (2011)

Missouri's Jute Gyte continues to lead an impressive double life as an experimental/ambient obscurity and an adventurous black metal combo. Verstiegenheit is the latest evocation of the latter, following upon the poignant heels of prior efforts like Old Ways (2008) and Eagle Heart (2010). Wrought from a moral haze, sauteed in emotional escapism, and primed in a stark poetic discourse. You'll of course experience all of the baleful repetition and raw potency you'd expect from other 'bedroom' acts within the black metal genre at large, but Adam Kalmbach assures more than a mere mirror to the familiar nihilistic pandering, but layers of nuance and substrate that catch at the edge of perception like muted specters hidden in a watercolor painting.

From the onset, Versteigenheit operates under the deceit of a straight black metal affair than either of the other albums I've covered, "Gates of Day and Night" providing roughly nine minutes of grim, charging abandon. However, despite the monotony of the drum sequence, and the Burzum-like grated torment of Kalmbach's vocal presence, the choice in chords is incredibly curious, almost like a mesh of accelerated grunge and 90s noise rock rather than the bleeding Scandinavian miasma of oppression. This is further expounded within the next track, "Apparitions in the Woodlands at Dusk", in which a similar rush of pummeling chords are affixed to a hissing layer of distortion. This track is where the experimentation truly arrives, first in the mellow, muddled bluesy breakdown at 2:00, then later in the jarring rock riffs and curving bass-lines after 4:00.

Trust me, you've not heard anything quite like this before, and such strange hypnosis provides one of the compelling reasons that Jute Gyte deserves further examination aloft the saturated spectrum of underground darkness. Most of the tracks follow a comparable formula in that they are between 8-12 minutes in length, opening with steady rhythmic charges, but they've all got surprises in store for those who dread that ennui might set in. There are several deviations in the tonal ambiance of brief interlude "Church Not Made With Hands" or the resonant guitar instrumental "To Return and Revere the Desolate Places (Late Idyll)", but on the whole the pieces fit with a formidable, haunting balance. Verstiegenheit might require several exposures before it seeps into the listener's skin, but as usual, Kalmbach is not interested in accessibility, nor the cheap rewards of the easier road. This is impressive, important music, but it flits across the depths of the surreal and secret. It's not coming to you. You're going to have to chase it.

Verdict: Win [8/10] (an echo from the ageless hills)

http://www.jeshimoth.com/jutegyte/

Jute Gyte - Young Eagle (2010)

Young Eagle is another excursion into the realm of the unholy impulse below the existence of all thinking beings, courtesy of Missouri noise musicians Adam Kalmbach. It is the 6th long player from the Jute Gyte project, and while a worthwhile successor to Old Ways, it actually expands upon those ideals and takes the aggressive maneuvering into new directions, untapped abysses through which a broader palette of atrocities are committed. For a great deal of its playtime, Young Eagle is simply not as noisy as its spiritual predecessor. The harsh distortion that once was the rule is now the exception, but Kalmbach's brutal delivery is carried out through other means on this 61 minute audio terrorist extravaganza.

Kalmbach maintains the early, unrepentant black metal influence, but here it is amped up through a generally faster execution. He's also come some way as a guitarist for this, and incorporates some nigh on technical noodling and busier rhythms, which make a very interesting dent on the poetic, smoggy din of the percussive landscape. The drums are patterned in a mix of straight rock, metal and varied patterns, and and there's a strong presence of the distorted bass here, which I barely noticed on the prior work. Young Eagle is a more potentially random experience, as songs will segue in and out of depressive, slightly distorted guitars-only passages or other diversions. It's still highly destructive, despite the fact its easier on the ears, and I'm reminded of what might occur if some avant-garde luminary like John Zorn danced on the precipice of black metal, rather than the Merzbow meets Burzum & Darkthrone feeling that permeated Old Ways.

The heretical floe of sewage begins with "See the Abandoned Throng", a rather straight black piece with chugging, strange bass and drums that often seem as if they're moving so quickly you can no longer hear them. If Transilvanian Hunger were re-written as a concept album about the abandoned caverns and sewers beneath and beside a metropolitan subway system, it might have come across something like this, though I doubt the Norse would have incorporated the schizoid guitar weaves and chugging patterns that break up the crashing forceful gale of the verse. "Glory at Hand" explores the dynamic contrast between slow, dirty guitar drone and grim, blasted hubris, with some sludgy rock rhythms added, for over 11 minutes, while "The Wine-Halls Are Crumbling", one of the albums best tracks, micro-manages dingy guitars, a muddied, subtle pipework of throbbing bass and the overall feeling that your brain is being extracted through your ears and nostrils by a very clever mind flayer who doesn't wish to tamper with your skull, instead saving it as a trophy for his lair.

In another stark contrast, the album moves into the gloom of a rolling ambient piece, "What a Bird Bore away Overwith clean guitars, soon layered in the cystic fibrosis of hell-scarred distortion winds, with some trippy, moaning vocals that I was not expecting. "The Might of Ash Spears" transforms from an acoustic guitar intro to a chugging, bizarre metal force, later affixed with strange electronic signals like aliens trying to break a communication satellite code. "Young Eagle" is pretty much a straight black rocker with some strange start/stop drumming and a melancholic, off-kilter guitar melody that arrives above some distorted, retch inducing vocals. "The Flower and the Chain" explores a jarring, desperate piano line with an unnerving mix of subtle dark ambient architecture and summery sounds of nature.

The lyrical talent here remains impeccable, and perhaps superior to that found on Old Ways, though the imagery being conveyed has the benefit of grasping from a wider collage of images both beautiful and frightening. Many noise artists or noise/black artists do not even attempt to incorporate lyrics into their composition, much less good ones, so Jute Gyte remains a treat to the imagination, an added dimension that elevates the listener to a rapture of both sound and word. Yet some of the statements are noticeably subtle, and gentle in their passing:

In winter we make the spring. In summer, the harvesting. I feel the nothing accumulate as days go by. I feel the weight of every passing sun and moon. In autumn we search and store. In springtime, we wanted more.

Though some of its contents are superior to the previous album I've listened through, I did find Young Eagle a touch less consistent. Several of the tracks are brilliant and breathtaking, like "The Wind-Halls are Crumbling", "What a Bird Bore Away Over the Deep Ocean", and "The Flower and the Chain", or for the aggressive fare "See the Abandoned Throng" and "Glory at Hand". However, "The Might of Ash Spears" and "Young Eagle" had a few minutes there that I could have lived without, where suddenly the album felt a lot less interesting than I'd expect of Jute Gyte, largely due to some mediocre metal riffing tucked in there. Still, for an album that is largely diverse and experimental, it rather holds its conflicted aural imagery together well, and still worth purchasing. What it might lack in coherence it compensates for with an increase in sheer musical skill, and the inclusion of the pianos and more ambient range from other, non-metal Jute Gyte efforts is welcome. Combined with its curious packaging (DVD case, lyric sheet, minimal black/white text and cover image) it makes for another exquisite journey into a nexus of corrosion and rainbow light.

Verdict: Win [8.25/10] (the cruciform shadows of nuclear angels ejaculating manna from the heavens)

http://www.jeshimoth.com/jutegyte/

Jute Gyte - Old Ways (2008)

To many untrained ears, black metal music is already noise enough, crossing the line from comprehension to confusion. Part of this is an unwillingness to accept extreme climates in which art can find a center, and part is simply the natural, visceral shock to such elements being streamlined into the brain with such seemingly inhuman pacing and energy. To those well indoctrinated in the form, sometimes the traditional rock band instruments are not enough, and thus we've seen a wealth of black/noise artists spring up since near the genre's very inception. Pioneers like Sweden's Abruptum or the USA's Havohej have given way to a landscape of solo and paired projects worldwide, and of these, Missouri's Adam Kalmbach has to be one of the more interesting I've encountered as of late. Hit output through Jute Gyte spans a range of styles. Some of the albums pursue a more purely experimental, ambient texture, while others lap at the bloodspring of primal black metal in the vein of Darkthrone and Mayhem and take their aesthetics into an even more grisly territory than the woodlands in which they were born.

Much of Old Ways, Kalmbach's third full-length release through this project, carves a simple but destructive path through a carnal and uncomfortable territory. The raving guitars and rasped vocal lunacy are gowned in veils of hideous distortion, industrial-like drum beats, and strange psychedelic segues into bass and noise samples that make me feel like Attila Csihar, Skinny Puppy and Merzbow are hosting a housewarming party together, with your ears as the appetizer. Like much primitive black metal, repetition is key to the music's hostile, drowning breech of the listener's defenses, but Kalmbach is wise to shift it up as often as he does. There is of course a barrier to entry in place for the unsuspecting listener: the intensely saturated hiss of the distortion will provide much pain until you can latch onto the underpinning rhythms. It's like a musical release via smokescreen, but glimpsing that beauty behind at this or any other angle, through any obstacle is almost sweeter than a clear, sunny day.

Old Ways is comprised of seven acts performed in just over an hour, and I'd recommend you partake of this for the long haul, since the relative consistency of style will easily hypnotize the errant cerebronaut for that period. Several of the songs operate in fairly straightforward, archaic black metal territory with the added advent of the noise functions, like the openers "Waves" and "Teeth", but others take some liberties. "Round" incorporates segments of processed guitar noise, swollen dark ambiance and broken industrial rhythms against periods of necrotic surge, while "Interlude" is all out mystical twanging strings and freaky synth tones that remind me of something Muslimgauze might create. "Peace", one of my favorite pieces on the album, is a slow, damning burn with periodic, cautionary lapses into this fuzzy, doomlike rhythm that almost awakens the listener from the cobwebs of stupefaction to a rapt awareness of his environment. "Snail" provides another interesting guitarscape below tortured vocals, and the extensive finale "Death" is 18 minutes of rampant, plodding hostility, a cryptic black haunt in a gargantuan, rusted junkyard through which electronic roaches skitter and feed upon the last strands of life and human nutrition.

I might also point out how much I truly love this man's lyrics, a conceptual procession that details the struggle of organisms with such an infusion of blunt poetry that they almost exceed the music in ghastly effectiveness. The song titles are all quite minimal here, proof of their existence in a pattern, but some of Kalmbach's prose is truly bewitching:

A pale dwarf-wrath keels over, fatally injured. Mouth gaping, revealing long, curved and yellowing hook-like teeth, it vomits a chunky white substance with the texture of curdled milk. It foresaw this long ago, but now cannot believe. Crimson patches darken a miniature black cloak. Small hands clutch at the brumal air.

No, folks, we are not in Norway anymore. A project like Jute Gyte both compels and disturbs me. The former because I so enjoy the rewards obscured within its oppressive borders, and the latter because I know so few people out there will be able to form the connection to its strange, abstract beauty. Through the Jeshimoth imprint, Kalmbach has offered an attractive if minimal packaging which I found highly appealing. The CD is placed in a DVD shell, with a simple black and white cover and a lyrics sheet tucked into the booklet flap. He does this with a lot of his releases, and though they occupy a little more space than a standard CD, they look very flush together and impressive. I might add that the DVD presentation does more than simply gather dust, it offers you an almost theatrical insight, like a Luis Buñuel picture, a conflagration of sounds and distressful imagery, only here it is delivered through Kalmbach's unhinged control over the chaos and struggle of existence. This is yet another of those works that can change you in increments, as I'm sure it has changed its maker, and worth entertaining if you favor the more experimental extremes of black metal music which in its some of its most incendiary personas reside (Abruptum, De Magia Veterum among numerous others).

Verdict: Win [8.75/10] (a gentle hum: negative space)

http://www.jeshimoth.com/jutegyte/

Svart - Förlorad (2010)

It's unusual how often the 'rule of threes' applies in all walks of life, from the popular media of the book or film trilogy, to the obscure, desolate black heart of Swedish musician Draug, who for the 3rd release now in a row, has offered a sequence of three tracks for his project Svart. With Våran Tid är Förbi, there were three tracks of dense melodic longing and suffering, and upon the more recent EP, a Namnlös och bortglömd, three tracks that ranged from a slower, more accessible melancholic black metal to a piano composition. With Svart's latest album, Förlorad, we are treated to a more minimal, experimental approach than his prior works, a gathering of bleak psychedelic ichor that only skirts the suicidal black ministrations of the past.

I've warned the listener of Draug's past recordings that one must often prepare the appropriate environment in which to best appreciate them, and Förlorad is no exception to this, for its three segments tally up to an astounding 74+ minutes of music, and if using this as a foreground rather than a backdrop, one might quickly tire of the more repetitive tones spattered throughout its mazes of downcast thought and sparse instrumental glare. Based on when and where you hear this record, and with whom, it will either provide an experience of thematic incite or a torturous slog of ennui. I advise you listen to this alone, with something you can drink slowly, while you sit by the docks or riverbed one evening. BUT DO NOT JUMP IN. That is never the answer, unless maybe you are covered with bees or other stinging insects.

"Förlorad I" is the briefest of the three compositions at 14:32, but it sets the tone for basically the entire album. Slow streams of clean guitar tones wash over a simple drum pattern, pausing to ring out or slightly alter their course to give the listener the impression of his/her imminent doom. Within these wisping strings, one can count the drops of blood in crystalline clarity as they weep from an ocean, fresh wound by the tub-side. Or perhaps the slow decay of leaves, first fallen and then devoured by the invisible scourges in the autumn air. It's harrowing music, but extremely simple and arguably monotonous, but transcends well into the second piece.

"Förlorad II", a darker and longer journey into the annals of despair, coming in at over 20 minutes and recounting some of Svart's more metallic elements, with darkly twinging guitars that continue to ring off the bells of black doom that "I" indebted. At long last, the vocals arrive deep within the bowels of this haunting beast, and streams of desperate chords that recount the band's previous releases. I must admit, at around 12:00 this song really takes off into the depths of no return, a downward descent into punishing grief that inevitably manifests in the most crushing riffs on the record (around 16:00). I like the use of the thickly monstrous bass and Draug's distorted groaning.

Funny that we're not even half way through the album, as we've still the nearly 40 minute opus "Förlorad II" to challenge our commitment in hearing this out. This final piece returns to the repeated, clean guitars covering darker tones, as in "I", but there is an enhanced wash of psychedelic effects to differentiate it. This is a fascinating piece, excellent if used at the right time of life, while reading or writing or exploring some craft or art. After all, it's about an album's length in of itself, and offers no bludgeoning shocks quite like "II", but its the most hypnotic, in particular when Draug's nigh audible vocal accompaniment arrives around 20:00 in. Eerie.

Förlorad is a pleasure to listen through in the proper circumstances, but it faces an uphill battle for attention that might turn off fans who wish to hear the band's black metal side as on the debut album Vanära, Vanmakt och Avsmak. Many of these minimal, atmospheric albums often feel like a cheap ploy so that the musician doesn't have to write very much, but here, Draug has clearly metered this material out in such a cautionary manner as to gradually twist back each layer of sanity from the listener, until the soul admits to itself that the day is lost, and perhaps a lot more.

Verdict: Win [7.5/10]

http://www.svartangst.tk/

Blood of the Black Owl - A Banishing Ritual (2010)

Blood of the Black Owl's previous meditation, A Feral Spirit, was a haze inducing ritual of both beauty and terror, as extreme as it could be tranquil, and really promoted the band to the forefront of our metal scene's peripheral artists, capable of a vision far outside the status quo even in such eclectic genres as black, doom, drone or folk metal. There is simply not much else out there that can capture the repressed spirit of native America in musical form, and place such a tax on the soul of the listener. For A Banishing Ritual, the reins seem to have been tightened a notch, partly due to the fact it consists of a single track in four 'movements', all of which combine for 40 minutes of intense immersion that can drown out your day.

Chet W. Scott (of Ruhr Hunter and many other experimental projects) returns here with collaborators James Woodhead and Daniel Ellis Harrod for a lengthy, disturbing journey. Into the trials of jarring strings, black swelling ambiance and chant-like, ritual vocal we are taken with the first of the tracks motions, 'Intent', which is possibly the most fascinating of the album. "The Statement of Will (Movement II)", which occupies only about 4 minutes of "A Banishing Ritual", opens with an extremely basal, raw doom metal rhythm that is soon bypassed by a montage of eerie woodwinds, ringing strings and carnal vocals, only to return to the guitars for the transition into "Chant of the Captured Spirit (Movement III)", which is the most ominous of the album's stages, 11 minutes of slowly escalating noise, warbled voices and warped synthesizers that tide over into trilling flutes and soothing, daemonic whispers. "The Final Banishing (Movement IV)" grows from this into sparse, further fucked whispers that are cut through with occasional jaunts onto an acoustic guitar, distant shrill synths that emulate the whipping winds of perdition and a climactic finale which feels like being hunted through a cold Northwestern night by regressive cannibal savages.

Like any successful work of its kind, A Banishing Ritual sucks the listener into a vortex of the unfamiliar and then peels away each layer of sanity from his/her stiff mind. I didn't actually appreciate it quite so much as its predecessor A Feral Spirit, but that is partly owed to the single track format...I simply didn't feel compelled by its entirety as I did with many of the songs off the prior release. Regardless, it's highly engrossing and I am very eager to experience this when hiking season begins for me in the summer. A wondrous, though not always pleasant soundtrack to the empty places of the wild (and the soul) untouched, at least temporarily, by Quiznos, Verizon and Lady Gaga.

Verdict: Win [8.75/10]

http://www.myspace.com/bloodoftheblackowl

Havohej - Hornbook Seytan EP (2008)

Paul Ledney has continued to refine his addiction to noise over the years, having long since abandoned the rigid black metal that anointed his cult classic Dethrone the Son of God album for a more raucous, experimental schematic that repackages the origins of the medium with a unique, visceral, haunting abandon. Hornbook Seytan is one of several short-play releases in his catalog, a two track journey into dementia released on 10" vinyl in limited quantities, and understandably, as there are very few people who dwell this far out on the fringe.

There are but two tracks here, with about 16 minutes of total music, but both give plenty of time to inhale their noisy nightmare fumes. "Hornbook" is an avalanche of dense sonic throughput smothering a rather weak drum beat and suicidal, terrifying vocals, interspersed with interesting breaks. At around 1:40, the break takes the form of tonal ringing and then even an abyssal, whale-like noise as the track cycles back into the waves of terror that feel like your ears caving in. After 4 minutes come the sounds of bedlam in the form of sampled pandemonium, like a vortex of souls has blown forward, a tornado interrupting the normal progression of the already hectic music. "Seytan" is a longer piece, with only faint traces of ambiance (no vocals) to guide the hoarse nuclear wind eruptions. I find this the more meditative of the two, but at the same time there is no surprise waiting beneath the surface as with "Hornbook".

Havohej is always fucked, it's simply a matter of varying degrees of fuckedness. The compositions of Hornbook Seytan are probably not the darkest or most disturbing that he's released, but they rank fairly far to the right of the scale. Despite their deceptive simplicity, both of the tracks operate at the most pensive level, as wellsprings of the macabre imagination. Perhaps more for fans of experimental noise than black metal, Ledney is one of the best in the business at finding a point between the two in which to carve his niche. The two tracks here make for a fine prelude to the great 2nd full-length Kembatinan Premaster, which follows a similar theme and has more to offer (over 30 minutes more), so if you've heard this and not been frightened away, seek that out, you won't regret it.

Verdict: Win [7/10]

http://www.myspace.com/havohejofficial

Havohej - Unholy Darkness and Impurity EP (1993)

You are not in Kansas anymore. You are trapped within the mind of one of the sickest fucks to ever commit himself to tape, New York's Paul Ledney. The date of these heinous crimes, 1993, the same as the birth of this, his most interesting body of work, the timeless traction that is called Havohej. Experimental from the start, this project was (and still is) an attempt to strip the expression known as black metal to its very core, a surge of godawful noise and vocal retching which could make a Virgin Mary statue weep feces and stir the flies for a thousand miles around. Ledney wanted aural crud, and he atteined it with his first release Unholy Darkness and Impurity, which defies all conventions and common sense at a mere 3 tracks and 6+ minutes of material...

Try and envision someone accidentally flushing a discman down a toilet with your head attached to the earphones, while Mayhem or something was playing. That is the quality of production on this recording. It's turbulent, messy excrement which crawls at you from the industrial waste surrounding you, with steady, monotonous drumming and bass so thick and caustic it should be made illegal. The opening title track is an exception, being an eerie choral synth piece of less than 2 minutes which transforms into an abomination in its closing seconds, a precursor to the 1:11 long blasting weirdness of "Behold the Prince of Peace". Yet, for all its ill intent, there is something fascinating about the bridge rhythm which pops up a few times here, a strange deviation which quivers like an extraterrestrial artifact discovered among sewer waste, shining its alien light across the bleak, blackened piss and poop-scape in which it has settled. "March of the 7 Priests of Mockery" utters forth a thick crust of bass which sounds like having your ear pressed against a jet engine, all shreds of sanity fluttering away, while Ledney's vocals rasp off into the shadows and an industrial bell tolls like a warning to lock your days and stay inside from the acid rain.

If this EP suffers anything, it is in brevity, for the music is so turbulent and disgusting that you cannot help but find yourself fascinated by its potential, and yet it is yanked away from you before you can attune yourself to its ungodliness. Somehow, despite the hostile sound and constricted breath of its composition, it was clear that Ledney was on to something, a genuine pulse he would later adapt and expand into full-lengths and EP recordings of greater substance. If you can appreciate this recording, then I'd certainly recommend you read further into his discography, as you possess the fiber of very few fellow beings.

Verdict: Indifference [6.25/10]

http://www.myspace.com/havohejofficial

Abigor - Time is the Sulphur in the Veins of the Saint (2010)

Anyone caught dreaming that Abigor were going to suddenly shy away from the post-modern, experimental direction they took with 2007's Fractal Possession is in for quite a downspell, as Time is the Sulphur in the Veins of the Saint makes its predecessor seem almost 'accessible' by comparison. Never one to abide by trends or give a flying fuck about what some backwards fanbase expects of them, Abigor have cemented their commitment to a vivid exploration of sound, loosely rooted in the black and industrial hybrid of their last effort, but straining the boundaries of balance and sanity. The entire album is a 38 minute concept broken into two untitled sections, thus one is removed from even the benefit of labeling its individual tracks. It is meant to be taken in at a sitting, which can become quite a trial as its ever shifting landscape rarely decides to about face and tread the same terrains.

Progressive by the very definition, Time is the Sulphur in the Veins of the Saint is far beyond the constraint of simple idenfitication. There is metal here, and plenty of it, but it is almost always used as a percussive force or a titillating wall of melody that drives the narrative nature of this cerebral, paralytic story. Perhaps some of the most frenetic and insane fretwork occurs just beyond the 10:00 mark of "Part II", which sounds like earlier Cynic on crack, and P.K.'s bass is nearly as fragrant and volatile as his guitar. Yes, this is the type of album fans of Mr. Bungle, Ephel Duath or Dillinger Escape Plan might find themselves invested in, though they will be dealing with Arthur Rosar's debilitating, decrepit vocal candor which walks the fine line between a blacker aesthetic and the early adopted EBM torture of Skinny Puppy. But for the chaos present, there also rings a clarity, a penchant for moments of soothing and hypnotic scenery, like the clockwork that opens "Part I" (the more chaotic of the two presentations) or the haunting midsection of "Part II".

Though I found myself drawn in, fascinated by the band's currency of anarchic sonic architecture, I will admit there are points at which the album does stumble forward to evoking each new level of consciousness. You become so reverent towards the sheer effort of the sound's entropy, that individual rhythms do not often feel striking or catchy apart from the sum of the composition. The guitar tones are often quite thin, as if to counterpoint the fuzzy, plumbing bass tone, and though it will often rage forward into something resembling a black metal blast, this is an album more of subtleties than brazen riffing. The previous Fractal Possession had a lot more moments that would scream out inside my head, but this is still an interesting journey that should satisfy fans of the avant-garde and bizarre (Solefald, Ulver, and Fleurety all spring to mind as bands who walk a separate, but similar path of the outsider).

To make it even more fascinating, this album is part of a pseudo-set with the latest from France's Blacklodge, based around an Albert Einstein quote...not something you hear every day.

Verdict: Win [8/10]

http://www.abigor.at/

L'Acephale - Malefeasance (2009)

Formed for the Reason of Unleashing Sonic Destruction & Corruption through Epistemic Terrorism and Bibliophilistic Atavism.

The quote was taken from the band's MySpace page and better sums up their chaotic and wondrous mix of elements than I ever could. Malefeasance is the other L'Acephale debut album, and it's even longer and more experimental than Stahlhartes Gehäuse. What black metal you'll find on this release is the exception rather than the rule, but it makes for no less fascinating a listen (at least for half of the record).

The 80 minutes of escape begins with the chilling "Väinämöinen Nacht" (10:06), with its swelling ambient electronics and samples of chanting and shouting that create undullating rhythms against the backdrop. "Hitori Bon Odori" (8:45) begins with a long passage of rambling acoustics, gentle militant percussion, and haunting ambience, with a dash of black metal in the background during the latter half. "A Burned Village" (4:50) has some thundering drums, light synths and wailing bleeding black guitar line and snarls. "From a Miserable Abode (Alt Mix)" (18:09) is an epic ballast of screaming tones and filtered noise vocals, though the last few minutes of pipes create a stark contrast and clarity. It was interesting, but also the most annoying track on either of their full-lengths. The band has also included an extensive cover of Current 93's "Sleep Has His House", with droning electronics and mixed black/gothic vocals. "Nothing is True, Everything is Permitted" (22:59) brings an end to the album with some hypnotic acoustics, ambient and noise.

Malefeasance is rather mesmerizing for about half it's playtime, but the noise mix and cover song lost me, as neither is up to the standards of the remainder. Stahlhartes Gehäuse is a more focused overall experience, but if you have listened to that and enjoyed it, this is well worth the time for it's first three tracks and the epic length finale.

Verdict: Win [7.5/10]

http://www.myspace.com/lacephale

L'Acephale - Stahlhartes Gehäuse (2009)

Oregon's L'Acephale is perhaps the most impressive, eclectic black metal artist I've heard since Blood of the Black Owl, Leviathan and Xasthur. The band's use of sampling, ambience and folk puts them in quite a unique position, but all is not experimentation, for the core of the band is slathered in snarling, disgusting black metal which works well in tandem with the more worldly elements. The band is named for the pre-WWII French secret society 'Headless'. Stahlhartes Gehäuse is one of two albums the band has debuted this year, the other being Malefeasance (also worth checking out, and more experimental than this).

This album is somewhat of a journey, being 71 minutes in length with only four tracks. "Stahlhartes Gehäuse" (18:43) itself opens with the sound of train tracks and women singing alongside woodwinds. Then the band builds up some tribal percussion, ambience and chanting before a blast of grim and repressed black metal. Yet, even when the band exposes its true colors, you'll hear samples of chanting, added percussion, etc. Later the track shifts into some blackish doom, and an acoustic folk segment. "Psalm of Misery" (12:05) has sampled dirge-like opera vocals which relapse into a melodic, mid-paced stream of chords that gradually accelerates. Though not as aggressive, I preferred the metal in this track to the previous, it's majestic and catchy, and the strings commit to it a grandeur expression. "Perdition" (24:42) is the album's longest piece, opening with stark, thriving ambience that progresses into smashing black metal, pianos and acoustics, and eventually silence. "The Book of Lies/Seventh Gate" (16:21) has an intense, martial appeal created through its sampled choirs and horns and charging pace, it's got some of the more tumultous metal parts on the album and draws to a rousing conclusion. It's also the band's original EP from 2005.

The album is raw but intense, and the tones mesh well with the extensive use of outside elements to flavor the band's concepts. The vocals are painful and straight from the gut, the guitars broil and sear in their own venom, while the drums are crashy and unflinching. Despite the band's talent at black metal sickness, I actually found the metal a mite inferior to their ability to conjure these amazing sample-scapes which cast a shadowed mood over the listener. This is sublime, thinking man's black metal which stands alongside the American elite.

Verdict: Epic Win [9/10]

http://www.myspace.com/lacephale

Circle of Ouroborus - Islands (2009)

Circle of Ouroborus is perhaps the most bizarre act on the primal Finnish black metal scene. Since their formation 5 years past, they have already released a slew of demos, and Islands is their 5th full length since 2006. I have found much of their material boring, and Islands follows suit for much of its playlength, but there are particular moments here where the band is doing something quite cool, and as a result, it's probably their most accomplished album.

This is the third and final chapter of a trilogy that started with the albums Shores and Streams. The band's style here is sparse, minimal and psychedelically inclined. Intro "Vedestä" is simply a pair of guitars repeating some jubilant, spacey notes. "Somewhere Between the Planets" offers a wall of slow moving guitar drone with more of the spaced out dual guitars. The vocals of this band are fairly lazy and, like the drums, set far back in the mix. But it does create the effect of ennui. For myself, it felt like some band was jamming at a festival while in another tent some guy walked up to a microphone and just started pretending he was accompanying their music. While novel and rough around the edge, this does not necessarily make for a compelling album. It is best when the band actually incorporate some cool melodies, such as "Green Grey Winter" or "These Feathers in My Hand". The closing piece, another dual guitar instrumental called "Sumusta", was also mildly hypnotic.

The band attempts as raw a sound as they could possibly muster, this album barely functions above the demo/4-track level, fuck it could have been recorded on an old tape recorder except for all the voluminous swelling of the guitars. Oddly enough, I have no complaints about the actual production of the album, just that they could be on to something interesting, and that the band's minimal approach would not suffer from some better writing. Still, Islands may have a few moments that appeal to the fan of psychedelic/shoegaze-influenced experimental black metal, and it was probably the most memorable of their albums thus far.

Verdict: Indifference [6/10]

Horseback - The Invisible Mountain (2009)

Previously known for his drone music, Jenks Miller has lifted Chapel Hill's Horseback from that niche to one all his own. Immediately the album submerses you in its unique atmosphere with "Invokation." Driving and warlike repetitive percussion, a hearty center of sludgy bass and rhythm guitar, and over top a decidedly twangy, western (think Ennio Morricone, not Willie Nelson) feel of the lead guitar. Easy to imagine, given Alejandro Jodorowsky is amongst the artists' influences.

"Tyrant Symmetry" opens with a mid-tempo bass rhythm reminiscent of the work of Al Cisneros, Jenks' Cobalt-esque vocals weaving amongst the notes: each is clear in the production, and the solo amongst the instrumentation at 4:09 is simply gripping. "The Invisible Mountain" kicks the tempo up a notch from the previous two tracks, spacey and yet tense psychedelic riffs opened up my mind to grim, dark prairies where natives scratch a living out of the unforgiving flatlands.

The fourth and final track "Hatecloud Dissolving" has a cinematic, angelic feel that reverberates through your essence. A calming, gorgeous soundscape that has almost left me without description in its beauty. The vile blackened vox appear and sink into the cool creek of the music, distant. During the final third of the 16+ minute track we are lifted from that prairie, into the sky: ethereal synths envelop and spin their magic, ending the journey with a simple melody, the hate dissolved.

It's refreshing to hear post-metal/drone/experimental/stoner etc. tunes so groundbreaking and moving out in a sect of music that is so easy to forge hackneyed down-tuned atmospheres with little skill. Not so with Horseback, as the care and skill that went into crafting this music is obvious. I enjoyed this album tremendously on an emotional level, as it has a fantastic intangible quality, an atmosphere I can't quite put my finger on. If others will interpret and enjoy it as much as I did I can't say, but it's unquestionably one of the best things I've heard this year. I anxiously await further material from this one-man experimental wrecking crew.

Verdict: Epic Win [9/10]

http://www.myspace.com/horsebacknoise

Umbrtka - Úplná Demontáž Lidstva (2009)

You may well be familiar with the Czech sewer black metal band Stíny Plamenù, but what of the prolific Umbrtka? Having released 14 albums since the turn of the century, you could argue that this was the most prolific project of Lord Morbivad. While Stíny Plamenù explores the world beneath the pavement of infested European streets, Umbrtka celebrates the machinery of our decay. And it does so through a series of rather strange concept albums. On the surface, they're pure, brutal black metal, but there is a level of engagement and atmosphere you won't hear in your garden variety grimness. They call this 'gray metal'.

Úplná Demontáž Lidstva creates thick passages of streaming, vile chords over rapid fire drum programming. Morbivad's painful vocals echo their posthumous poetry above the conjured imagery of industrial decay. If you're a fan of the Czech spin on gruff black vocals (i.e. Root, Master's Hammer, etc) you'll find a lot to like about this man's style and accent. There are some pretty straightforward black metal numbers like "Špinavá lávka" and the razor honed "Umbrtka Kat", but I actually enjoy it when the band gets stranger. "Šedá v úle" (trans. "Grey in Beehive") opens with the feedback of screeching, grinding metal...and a saxophone...before immersing you into its creepy, goth/industrial overtones. "Dítě z popelnice" (trans. "Under the Flag of Smoke") alternates intense blasting with playful, bass-driven spurts of oddness, ambience and acoustics. "Přátelé" is an excellent track, slower and ominous, industrial in parts, but flourished with progressive black metal: melancholic leads and droning vitriol. Possibly my favorite here.

It's clear Lord Morbivad and the musicians he surrounds himself with are hell bent on a little creativity, whether here or his other projects. Úplná Demontáž Lidstva is no masterpiece, but it's certainly captivating and a breath of fresh air. If you're a fan of Stíny Plamenù or perhaps the stranger Norwegian bands like Solefald, Ulver, Manes and Dodheimsgard, you would do well to check this album out. I found it inspiring enough to try and mine the band's extensive backlog, the interesting concepts they have produced.

Verdict: Win [7.5/10]

http://www.myspace.com/umbrtka

Mr. Bungle - California (1999)

I've never set foot in the 31st state, but when I listen to California I am transported there. Or, at least to a kind of cinematic stereotype. Palm trees rustled by mild summer breezes, half-dense urban sprawl at dusk, especially vain women, anonymous motel rooms, and countless other things flash in and out of my head. I have never been even close to that place and it's silly of me to try and draw conclusions based in reality, or try to unearth allegory from this album -- especially considering singer/keyboardist/usual lyricist (and legend, but I won't get into that) Mike Patton has remarked on how his lyrics are usually chosen for their effectiveness in enhancing the song in an aesthetic sense. It's rather nice, given the impossibly varied musical style of Mr. Bungle, as the pseudo-nonsensical lyrics and the experimental wanderings of the songs allow you to craft your own entirely unique experience.

As reminiscent of its namesake as this album is, it never brings up the location in song directly (or anything close, as far as I can tell), and in truth it is, of course, a vessel for the music. "Sweet Charity" opens with the sound of waves and seagulls, followed by a charming and lazy, rambling tune that quickly evolves into a lounge feel, Patton crooning, percussive miscellany appearing throughout. "None of Them Knew They Were Robots" begins with a slasher-movie-chase-scene experience before skidding to a halt, Patton conversational in his vocals. The song is an especially bizarre entity from lyrics to inexplicable musical progression within. Long story short, there are some metal riffs (death scream/grunts included) whispered Latin, camera shutters, what sounds like Patton doing Elvis briefly, along with positively baffling and incredible lyrics that I really don't have room to even begin to describe here.

"Retrovertigo" is the probably second most accessible song on California. Mike Patton showcasing just how touching he can sound, an acoustic backbone with some very subtle keys that escalates to the emotional refrain, complete with beatboxing in the background that somehow fits. Around the two-thirds mark things get especially bittersweet and quiet, the acoustic guitar alone with a xylophone before the decidedly not quiet climax of the song positively explodes, cinematic, somewhat tragic, powerful.

"The Air Conditioned Nightmare" picks up where "Retrovertigo" left off, but not without some oddities: clapping hands, marakas. Then, quite simply, another smörgåsbord of the unexpected throughout the entirety of the song. It's something of a pop metal surf rock horror amalgamation.

"Ars Moriendi" has a playful Middle Eastern theme, otherwise indescribable as a whole. "Pink Cigarette" is in the same vein as "Retrovertigo," remarkably accessible for a Mr. Bungle song, the easiest listening on the album and maybe of the band's career. The song is slow and lounge-like with a hint of Beach Boys, lyrics gloomy with that only reflecting partially on the music, with something else there. Regret? Longing? Fantastic song.

Needless to say by this point, California is all over the place. What is brilliant to me is that it still immerses me deeply into that place, a surreal, almost film noir California, as well as a mood that can't come close to being replicated or even really described. I continue to mention the state, but really the album is so intricately layered that my crude attempts to put words to the atmosphere it evokes really do it no justice. You have to hear it for yourself. Yes, this album is weird as hell, and yet still cohesive (especially compared to Bungle's earlier work) and I love every goddamn second of it. It's disappointing that there will most likely never be more from these guys as they split up after California's release and subsequent touring, but at least they went out with a masterpiece of an album.

Verdict: Epic Win [10/10] (champagne, your hair in the breeze)

http://www.bunglefever.com/

Vrangsinn - Moon Psychedelia Collection (2008)

I don't think that my head is nearly fucked up enough to understand what's really going on here, but I have to try. More properly known as the bassist of Carpathian Forest (and numerous other Norwegian metal projects), the Fabulous Holocaust Cowboy himself has decided to unleash misanthropic drug annihilation upon the world with his own project, a pop-tinged ode to psychedelia and madness.

Like* a piss-drunk Norwegian mocking America, Vrangsinn croons and squeals his antisocial way over grooving tunes created in some semblance of stoner rock. The feel is definitely reminiscent of Carpathian Forest's stranger moments, showing off a deranged playfulness that the listener may or may not be welcome to join. This similarity is heightened on some pieces, such as "Death is BEAUTIFUL", which incorporates blackened vehemence, snarls accompanying the poppy vocals for an extra heaping spoonful of discomfort. Other tracks have a harder edge - "Reality is a BASTARD!!!" turns up the heavy with muddy, detuned guitars, while "Visst faen, Det e var" is a punky affair that rocks by with a bit more anger than the rest of the tunes. However, the album certainly has it's elements of fun - "Holy Fucking Christmas Motherfucker" is a pretty hilarious track with rambling lines like 'Jesus was a pedophile I'm happy he's dead IT'S CHRISTMAS AGAAAIN' and the obvious chorus hook that I know I'll be shouting along with on future listens. There's a certain amount of sense to be wrestled from it all, but this definitely stands as a moment of insight into something that's not supposed to understood.

It was vaguely uncomfortable getting into Moon Psychedelia Collection, somewhat akin to having my brain touched in naughty places, but after a couple runs through each song, I suppose I've been perverted enough to enjoy it. The songs vary pretty widely in style and can be repetitive at points, although the rough edges do work in the context of the album as unique imperfections. I can't say that this is for everyone...or for many people at all, but I can say that adventurous listeners could do far worse than checking it out. It's distributed online for free to boot, so there's not much to lose.

Verdict: Win [7.5/10]

http://www.misantrof.net/testBand/mma_band.php?myband=45

http://www.misantrof.net/media/vrangsinn/album.zip
*not just like

Ulver - Perdition City (2000)

Norway's Ulver released an unbelievably raw and cold black metal album in 1996 titled Nattens Madrigal - Aatte Hymne til Ulven i Manden (translation: Madrigal of the Night - Eight Hymns to the Wolf in Man) with a deliciously evil concept: a man transforming into a wolf, becoming unchained from the will of God, with the help of Satan.

Who would have imagined that the outfit capable of that whirlwind of malignity could produce such thoughtful and beautiful music? That is not to say Perdition City is a good natured work. It is shot through with an ambiguous eerie atmosphere that lends itself to being enjoyed late at night, alone in the dark.

It's hard to tell if the band intended the title to be taken literally, but I like to imagine that the album as a whole represents the titular city, and the songs are explorations of the mood and soul of that city. It could be simply be something they thought would make a good title, but the song "Dead City Centres" and its descriptions of gangs and lone killers stalking highways leads me to believe that maybe I'm not too far off.

It's not easy to describe musically, but the main structure is trip hop infused with electronic miscellany, as well as jazz smatterings and the occasional piano or string interjection. It rapidly changes directions in its mood, from ominous to aggressive to something close to uplifting.

Although this album doesn't blow me away, it is still quite enjoyable, and has never bored me despite countless spins. All in all, it's very unique, and if you're looking for something off the beaten path you could do much worse.

Verdict: Win (you're taking a ride to the underworld, where death lurks in dark corners, and trouble is never far away)

http://www.myspace.com/ulver1