Goatcraft - The Blasphemer (2014)

If, like myself, you were a black metaller throughout the middle of the 90s, then you would likely have come across a number of side projects or tangential enterprises from various scene musicians that abandoned the harsher instrumentation to forage bleak, occult experiences through the mediums of neo-classical interpretation or, more modernly the fields of ambient/martial recording or dungeon synth. Labels like Red Stream and Full Moon Productions (among numerous others) were not averse to snapping up some of the more curious of these, whether they were haunting solo vehicles or full-fledged orchestral maneuvers, and these sorts of albums eventually collided with the fandom of industrual/dark ambient imprints like Cold Meat Industries or darker Gothic ventures and provided the extreme metalhead or misanthropist with an escape from his/her normal listening, that is unless he/she was as well-versed in classical/folk music as Scandinavian black metal.

I bring this up, because this has been a field slightly lacking over the last decade, or rather it's practice has become more of it's 'own thing' and pushed to the periphery, since there's just so much of the raw and heavy stuff around that it takes an eternity to explore it to the edge and beyond. Enter Goatcraft, a Texan one man act which seeks to once again corral such edgy aural voyeurs into believing in something beyond the standard fuselages of fuzz and ferocity into a more ancient source that, if The Blasphemer is any indicator, is far from disappeared on any map. Judging by the wave of praise I've seen from this recording, it has surely been one of the more 'noticed' jaunts of its type in some years, and after listening through this, I can understand all the praise, since it's an extremely consistent measure of escapism that thrust my imagination straight back into eras of grandeur and antiquity many centuries before I was even born. To an extent, there is some degree of minimalistic composition redolent of the ambient records Varg Vikernes has released through Burzum (the last few of which have become progressively more boring), but The Blasphemer strikes just the right balance of New Age and classical aesthetics that so morbidly swell it with potential.

Essentially, Lonegoat's attack is with a piano and a synthesizer, nothing else is needed to embark on such ritualistic mantras of darkness. Haunted phrases of chords or solitary notes are imbued with glittering, dust like cathedral-spire radiance that feel like bells tolling a soul to Hell for all damnation. A spectral haze of simmering ambiance is misted along the backdrop like the morning vapors rolling off a river into some mourning, plague-stricken village and there are numerous layers of dark, resonating piano keys which feel like some grand horror opera being performed from the top of a black tower, cascading down the spiral stone steps into an empty courtyard below. As ominous as I am making this sound, it's actually quite surprisingly vivacious and busy at times, there's nothing lazy or exceedingly repetitious anywhere and only once or twice does he move away from a concise track length to something more bloated, and even then he will pack a composition with enough performance and raw talent to evict any possible repercussion of lazy self-pandering, useless weight or indulgence (the entire experience is just under an hour, where he could have easily padded it out to fill an entire compact disc).

The Blasphemer is also entirely raw, and his piano sweeps really bounce off the room in which you are listening through it. It doesn't feel highly digitized or processed like a Castlevania soundtrack, for example, and I'm sure this could transfer immediately to any live setting. The music isn't always immensely catchy, nor does it really evade centuries of classical piano tradition, after all it's highly inspired by William Blake's art and archaic soundtrack qualities; but as mood music it is so highly committed. Invested. And, for me, was rewarding enough that I'd recommend it, whether as a score you could impose over a silent horror film or just something to experience with a glass of whine during the onset of a thunderstorm, where the streaks of lightning splay out like visual accompaniment to Lonegoat's key-hammering. It's a rare thing to even attempt such a sound in the 21st century, even rarer to eschew the sheet-music and write it for yourself, so you can bet Goatcraft is something worth keeping your eyes on...for I have a feeling the man hasn't even written us his masterpiece quite yet. Just powerful, gorgeously packaged music for when a rasp, guttural or blast beat just hasn't proven malevolent or magnificent enough.

Verdict: Win [8/10]

http://goatcraft.net/

Megaptera - The Curse of the Scarecrow (1998)

It’s been a decade since the Swedish dark ambient outfit Megaptera parted ways, but before doing so, they left us with their most seminal work, the dreary tapestry of sound that is The Curse of the Scarecrow. The album is remarkable, a successful journey from the depths of horror into fields of unsettling tranquility. Sparse industrial sounds create immersive background behind the simple, swelling landscapes of stolid, grim ambience.

This is a perfect journey, as well. Consistent listening which is best served through all eight tracks and 50 minutes of playtime. It would make a good backdrop for a myriad of activities: reading a horror novel, staring at a bleak work of art, meditating in a local field or landfill, or just thinking about how ominous this fucking world is, how hostile our universe. Well-planned voice samples are scattered about the recording, which provide visitations to your psyche, and remind you that even in this wasteland of impulse and darkness, you are not always alone.

It’s difficult to pick out highlights on an album so remarkably fortified with torment and insanity. There are some variations, of course. “Kingdom of Death” is one of the noisier works, infernal machinery hovering above distant, hypnotic orchestration. “Don’t Desecrate the Dead” is an eternal warning, with subtler, rolling machinery and some crashing elements. “The Curse of the Scarecrow” stands as the album’s most horrific, with a frightening jumble of male and female cries of anguish and confusion that penetrates the morass of throbbing, low synthesizers and percussive metallics.

The Curse of the Scarecrow is a superior effort to their earlier, noisier Beyond the Massive Darkness, and it’s one of the very best dark ambient/industrial records I own. A pinnacle of the form, especially if you are yearning for a darker sound akin to Raison d’Etre. Do not live without it.

Highlights: I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.

Verdict: Epic Win [10/10]

Celestiial/Blood of the Black Owl Split (2008)

The best split releases are those that feature unreleased material from two or more artists that have already smitten you. This would be one of those cases, a showcase for two of the best bands in the US to produce a hybrid of backwoods ethnic vibes, funeral doom tones and brilliant, flowing ambience. I cannot imagine a better pairing for such a release, and once again Bindrune brings the quality.

Celestiial is a beastly trio from Minnesota, featuring Tannder Anderson on the vocals and guitar (Autumnal Winds) and Jason Walton (Agalloch) on bass. Their debut Desolate North was impressive, but in truth I prefer this new track "White Depths Dove the Red-Eyes", a nearly 17 minute sprawling vista of scintillating ambience, a rise and fall swell of steadily shifting percussion and bleak rasping vocals. The band's commitment to the empty beauty and purity of our northern US regions is fully translated through both the sorrow and glory of their minimal compositions, an aperture of rural exploration.

"Contemplating the Death of an Olde Friend" is a darker piece, but just as mesmerizing. Chet W. Scott is the man behind Blood of the Black Owl and also the man responsible for bringing you this release. Again chiming in at the 17 minute length, "Contemplating..." opens with a mesh of repetetive strings, flutes and grizzled distortion beneath the cerebral black pitch of Scott's narrative vocals. After three minutes, the track 'devolves' into an ambient underpining with some sparse guitar plucks, beautiful tonal vocals and remains along this course until the end, in which the creepy black rasp returns to bury the coffin.

This is a fantastic split effort, and the fact you can't get the tracks elsewhere makes it an essential acquisition. Both of these acts are among the cutting edge of what the USA has to offer in terms of our own ethnic identity, our own culture. So many post-black metal, ambient black or funeral doom bands have shit to offer by comparison. Celestiial and Blood of the Black Owl have much to offer, their full-lengths are uniformly wonderful and the material here is no exception. Expressive, original and hypnotic.

Verdict: Epic Win [9/10]

http://www.myspace.com/bloodoftheblackowl
http://www.myspace.com/bindrunerecordings

The Axis of Perdition - Urfe (2009)

The Axis of Perdition have always been a unique entity, full of ferocious blackened malevolence and unhinged industrial tangents that, at one time, had them occupying the same mindshare as Anaal Nathrakh. However, their original unrelenting nature quickly gave way to more experimental pursuits that saw them drifting in new directions.

So it is on Urfe that The Axis of Perdition have gone almost exclusively to the dark ambient side, much in the vein of "Forms on the other side of silence" or the recent releases. On the first part, Grief of the Unclean, industrial soundscapes surge into the ears: the droning groan of massive machinery echoes in a subterranean world; metallic clanks and shrieks travel from unknown sources. The focal point, however, is a decidedly Silent Hill narrative (which is certainly fitting after The Red God) - part physical horror, part psychotic projection. It follows a man, Urfe, through a decayed, hellish world as he first explores, then attempts to escape it. With a great use of dark imagery and perilous situations, such as his flight from a murderously sexual dogboy trying to consume his genitals, the story of Urfe is delivered in the fitting British tones of actor Leslie Simpson, who is no stranger to horror himself. The story here is definitely one to be experienced firsthand, so I won't go into it any more, but it's well worth losing yourself into.

The second half, The Great Unwashed, continues this story-driven approach, yet introduces some new (old) elements. Namely, the last vestige of their black metal past show up on "II" and "IV," insidious slabs of discord that shudder under the torturous fingers of a sadistic world. Imagine, if you will, Blut Aus Nord, fallen and groveling in a pit of scrap metal, blood lost amongst the flakes of rust. Small sections of narrative, even parts with clean singing, can be found within these as well, deftly soldered amongst the sharp black edges. While I enjoy the strict spoken approach of Grief of the Unclean, I have to say that I was disappointed to find that The Great Unwashed didn't offer more material of the metal sort. One of the biggest appeals of their previous albums was the intense take on industrial black metal, and it's even more tortuous to hear the excellence of "II" and "IV," knowing that to be the only concession to be found. However, the ambience is also different on this half of the album, taking on a busier cacophany that harks back to the noisy experimentalism of Deleted Scenes from the Transition Hospital, and "VI" finishes the album off with a bright, hopeful instrumental piece as well.

I'm torn about this album, actually. I'm a huge fan of ambience and spoken material, so I have little to complain about. Yet, on the other hand, I feel like The Axis of Perdition could have offered more, and I can't quite get over it; that the black metal material constitutes one-sixth of the album doesn't help whatsoever. But, while I may get blue balls from this, it's still something that I would gladly return to.

Verdict: Win (8/10)

www.myspace.com/theaxisofperdition

Elegi - Sistereis (2007)

Sistereis - the final voyage of a ship before it sinks. Standing as the first piece in a trilogy, Sistereis came about through Tommy Jansen's love of wreck-diving. Suitably, the material here is thick dark ambiance full of neoclassical elements, droning currents, and eerie samples, some of which came from recordings of Jansen's own explorations underwater.

The three "FyrtÆrnet" parts are definitely the highlights of the album, each dense with subsonic cello rumbling, unsettling samples, the questing search of violins amongst synth eddies, all drowned in a haze of decaying particles and mementos. The sound is very evocative and easily suffuses the imagination, turning the static behind closed eyelids into a shifting, floating world. Other parts, such as "Despotiets Vesen" and "Time Lapse," take a moment for reflection as bright piano carries out over creaking timbers and discomfiting samples - voices, the small actions of hands and feet, gnawing. Sistereis is a ponderous world, skeletal moments left forgotten centuries ago. Interestingly enough, it makes me think of a combination of the moods from Lunar Aurora's Andacht and Bioshock.

That isn't to say that this is a perfect album - some tracks just didn't suck me in as much. "Dauingene" lacks the abyssopelagic gloom running through the other tracks, featuring synths that are slightly too loud and clear to create much atmosphere. The moderately improvised sound and free-form nature of the instruments, while well structured and put together, nevertheless proves to be a distraction at times. This is perhaps best noticeable on "Spill for Galleriet," a pleasant track that is a little too spontaneous for its own good, ultimately losing the cohesive focus seen in other songs as randonimity separates the instruments from each other. A deconstruction fitting, perhaps, for the death of a ship, but not the best of his work.

Although it has its faults and rough spots, Sistereis is still a beautiful album and one of the more interesting dark ambient works that I've heard in a while, and an excellent introduction to Elegi.

Verdict: Win [7.5/10]

www.myspace.com/elegi

Elegi - Varde (2009)

Elegi's follow-up to Sistereis is the polar exploration-themed Varde, a gorgeous dark ambient gem focused around the failures of Captain Robert Falcon Scott and other explorers. Improving on the style set forth on Sistereis in every way, Varde is a cinematically poignant trip through pristine and barren lands.

Noticeably less heavy than the waterlogged Sistereis, Varde brings a crisp new sound full of brittle footsteps and wide-open ice shelves. The compositions have been fine-tuned with a greater sense of direction, progressing smoothly despite the crackling layers that build up. Piano and violin diffuse quickly in the chill atmosphere, disappearing over glaciatic groans. Leather and metal creak under strain; landscapes slide past in a shimmering haze. It's a delicate vision fraught with unease. Take the track "Angekok" and its slurring, reversed gasps - struggling and crying, a failed explorer, a lost child-cub blunders desperately in frigid, desolate conditions. Or "Rak," with its mourning violins set to the drumbeat of splitting ice. Each song is unique and fascinating, perfectly aligned with the others yet still memorable. Nothing on this album breaks the mood.

While the feel is certainty different, this would go excellently alongside some Northaunt if you really want to feel the chill. Driven by a purposeful calm, Varde is a nigh flawless album; powerful yet tranquil, full of the majesty found in extreme cold. Elegi has set the bar high for ambient material this year.

Verdict: Epic Win [9/10]

www.myspace.com/elegi