She was seated, she held one leg stuck up in the air, to open her crack
Yet wider she used her fingers to draw the folds of skin apart
And so her “old rag and ruin” loured at me, hairy and pink,
Just as full of life as some loathsome squid
“Why”, I stammered in a subdued tone, “Why are you doing that?”
“You can see for yourself”, she said, “I’m God”
And so her “old rag and ruin” loured at me, hairy and pink,
Just as full of life as some loathsome squid
“Why”, I stammered in a subdued tone, “Why are you doing that?”
“You can see for yourself”, she said, “I’m God”
Gallic black metal with a religious twist you say? I'll have a bit of that thank you very much. Aesthetically, the common thread pulsating through all of DsO's releases from 2004 onwards, is the age-old adage passed on from their cultural progenitors and fellow country men, Rimbaud, Battaille and de Sade: that is to take your life to the extremes at any cost for therein lies true spiritual transcendence. Enter Diabolus Absconditus/Mass Grave Aesthetics (Norma Evangelium Diaboli, 2011; 12") - two musical monoliths whose length is only matched by their severity. No superficial satan-worshipping theatrics here. How many times have you seen Hegel being quoted on a black metal release or any release for that matter? Musically, these two tracks are predominantly characterised by discordant melodicism and serpentine flowing thematics. Progressive black metal? Let's not get stuck on label-slapping here; whatever it is, it works. Of special note is a lingering anxiousness subtly lacing their music which is only natural given their existential woes they're trying to express. Both tracks were put out previously as part of a couple of split releases (Crushing the Holy Trinity (Father) (Northern Heritage, 2005);
From the Entrails to the Dirt (End of All Life, 2005)). Still worth snapping this LP if only for the mesmerising artwork courtesy of Manuel Tinnemans.
MZ.412's Burning the Temple of God (Cold Meat Industry, 1996) was the latest notch on the Scandinavian scene's pissing contest when it came to who would come up with the most 'evil' and disconcerting recording in the history of Man: "Cold and acrimonious riff-based, low-fi musicianship you say? Fuck that, we'll sacrifice conventional musical structure for the sake of an occult / eerie atmosphere; we'll replace minimalistic chord progressions with ominous drones and imposing industrial beats and finally envelope it all within a thin yet conspicuous layer of undulating frequencies. And we shalt dub thee True Swedish Black Industrial!" Don't get me wrong, this is genuinely unsettling stuff; what I'd play if I ever wanted to clear up a house party at 4am right before I load up Whitehouse's Great White Death. Indulge with impunity.
On the other side of punk's paroxysmic indignation towards the status quo lingers Grief's resigned melancholy with this aptly titled 12" EP (Dismal; Grievance, 1992). A prime cut of sludge/doom if I ever heard one. "Ah, what's the effin' point? We're fucked, humanity is a disease, the experiment didn't work": that's pretty much the take-home message you get. After having listened to this little piece of misery you'll come out looking like your favourite pet just died. Hey cheer up son, some rampant celestial object is bound to hit us sooner or later; that should do us in once and for all.
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