France pretty much has the market cornered on modern progressive black metal. Deathspell Omega obviously, Hell Militia, Amesoeurs, Alcest, Peste Noire, Mutiilation, Blut Aus Nord, Aluk Todolo, Spektr, Angmar, Wolfe, and now you can add Glorior Belli to the list.
Deathspell fans will go apeshit for these guys, their buzzing blackness is all mathy and post rocky, songs lurch and sway, some songs are thick furious blasts, relentless and dense with black grit, the sound massive and crushing, while others are sprawling post black doomscapes, the guitars unwinding into fractured melodies, the drums stuttering through convoluted tempos, and even the blasting black numbers, more often than not splinter into super angular blackmath workouts.
Manifesting The Raging Beast somehow manages to be raw and grim, but simultaneously super dense and incredibly heavy, the production is incredible, the guitars are thick streaks of luminous melody, wound into black thunderbolts, the drums sound like sticking your head in a cement mixer full of anvils, as much as we love us some super lo-fi tinny 4-track buzz, it's kind of awesome to have a record sound this powerful, especially a black metal record. The riffs are kick ass, and catchy, and the band are not afraid of a groove, so much of the record is spent lurching through weird black waltzes or swinging in strange time signatures before exploding back into soul shearing blasts. And it's that balance between relentless black onslaught, and strange tangled weirdness that keeps this record sounding so amazing.
Definitely for fans of DSO, Funeral Mist, Katharsis and other like minded progressive black metal hordes...
What is it about France? For years now, this unsuspecting nation has been churning out some of the most vile, merciless, and best black metal on the planet. Groups like Deathspell Omega and Blut Aus Nord have set a new standard that expertly blends bizarre, progressive experimentation with a blackened attack that only a fool would criticize for not being "true". The results are undeniable, and it should be clear that among those redefining black metal for a new age, the French are at the top of the heap. For some reason, Glorior Belli has yet to receive the attention bestowed on many of their countrymen, but, Satan willing, things will definitely change with the arrival of Meet Us At The Southern Sign, the band's third album.
Glorior Belli may not be the weirdest of the bunch, but FUCK do these guys know how to conjure up the perfect blend of crushing brutality with a well defined sense of off kilter, seasick melodies and an overall approach that simply rocks. With that said, this album does come across as something different, but not in a "listen to my oscillator" kind of way. Maybe the weirdness here is relative, since we're talking about a band that is relentlessly metal at the heart of it all, but Glorior Belli's more lumbering numbers, such as opener "Once In A Blood Red Moon" almost come across as what present day Earth might sound like if they gave it all up to the dark side. It's hard to come out and say this, surely many will disagree, but some of this *almost* moves with the flow of the blues. It's doomy. It's dirgey. It sounds like the black metal version of waking up in your trailer with a horrible hangover after a night of intense drinking at the local shithole. Mainman Infestvvs's guttural croak is surprisingly similar to the legendary bark of John Brannon, most famous for his work with hardcore gods Negative Approach, but ALSO revered as the crooner for bluesy post-punk crew the Laughing Hyenas. Of course, the artwork could also confirm this bluesy presence, as could the song titles themselves. And then, holy shit, without even looking beforehand, we notice a peculiar song title... "In Every Grief Stricken Blues", another behemoth of mid-tempo, down and out goodness. Fuck, first Diamatragon's Crossroad, now this. Maybe we're in the early stages of a new sub-genre?
With all that said, it is certainly impossible to ignore how insanely, overwhelmingly METAL this is. Fear not, for there are plenty of lightspeed blast beats, grinding dual guitars, and heavy as fuck winding bass grooves, which add a weird mathy element to the maelstrom. All contribute equally to the potent, concentrated assault of Glorior Belli, making this one of the best metal albums of the year. So unbelievably, incomprehensibly awesome, we're stilll trying to wrap our heads around it all...
We've been trying to track this down for ages after reading about Glorior Belli in Terrorizer. Assorted comparisons to Dissection and Watain and Deathspell Omega and the like had us practically foaming at the mouth. Finally after months of searching we finally managed to get a bunch of these in. The first thing we noticed was how much it looks like the Watain records, or any of the releases on N.E.D. (home to DSO, Ondskapt, Funeral Mist, etc), with a cool woodcut on the cover, arcane black and grey graphics, vaguely religious imagery, everything sort of distressed looking, as if it was taken from some long buried parchment. But what the hell, this band probably -should- be on N.E.D., it would be a perfect fit. Buzzing super technical, ultra raw blackened thrash, with darkly melodic breakdowns verging on post rock, lots of majestic riffing, and stretches of super blasting buzz! The whole thing though has a strangely melodic bent that helps it stand out from other black metal records, an almost indie-rock quality to the melodies, somehow super catchy while at the same time being suffocatingly black and grim. Quite a feat indeed. Anyone who has been digging Watain, Deathspell Omega (especially the newest one), Funeral Mist, or any of that stuff NEEDS this for sure!
We've mentioned it before, but it seems like few can touch French black metal when it comes to originally and innovation, whether it's the gnarled twisted post rock flecked ritualistic blackness of Deathspell Omega, or the industrial drone drenched black buzz of Blut Aus Nord, and on past records, French horde Glorior Belli seemed to hew close to DSO's sound, the same sort of mysterious progressive blackness, that was until their 2009 record Meet Us At The Southern Sign, where GB established themselves as perhaps the strangest of the French BM bunch, infusing the usual black blasts and grim buzz with all manner of not-specifically-black-metal elements, whether it's sort of a twangy bit of moody meander, or punkish vocal howls, or some downright nearly blues sounding moments, not to mention a penchant for rocking, and we're not talking buzzing and blasting, we're talking rocking as in rock music, like shredding leads, classic (even Southern at moments) ROCK, which was a subtle element way back when, but recently, especially on this new one, has come to play a bigger and bigger part in GB's sound. In fact much of The Great Southern Darkness is spent rocking and not blasting or buzzing, the opening one two punch of "Dark Gnosis" and "Secret Ride To Rebellion", includes very little of what one might describe as buzzing black metal, instead, there's lots of midtempo rocking, even some doomy dirgery, with slippery seasick riffage and classic metal melodies. And then check out "They Call Me Black Devil", which starts off with some Joy Division / Earth like low slung twang, before launching into what sounds like some post metal Neur-Isis-y groove, the harsh demonic vokills, the only thing really defining the song as black metal, and then the track shifts into a killer mathy super melodic breakdown, hell, pretty much any band on Relapse would kill for a part like that, which speaks to how good these guys have gotten musically, as they toss off parts like that constantly, without batting an eye. And while you're at it, there's also "Negative Incarnate", which indeed has an appropriately EVIL title, but is almost total classic rock, complete with super melodic leads, and a groove that won't quit. But then the second that song ends, comes the band's harshest blast, the furious opening to "Bring Down The Cosmic Scheme", but that grim buzz doesn't last long, as the track shifts gears into something totally melodic and totally crazy catchy, lurching back and forth between blackbuzz and melodic blackened rock. And not to overly stress the lack of actual black metal, the band do offer up plenty of grim blackness, like on the aforementioned track, but more often then not, even at their blackest and buzziest, the sound is infused with something distinctly not black, or there's inevitably some crazy poppy / proggy / ROCKING part is right around the corner. And to be honest, in a world of buzzing and blasting black metal clones, it's records like this that end up sticking the most. And while it took a few listens to really get into what these guys were doing, once we did, we began to have trouble understanding why more bands didn't actually do something similar. Might not be black metal record of the year, but just might have to make up a blackened heavy rock category, cuz we're digging this like crazy.
Fans of the damaged and deranged, the truly warped and mindbending, the freaky, fucked up and plain baffling, by now should be well acquainted with the mysterious master of the guitar synth, and his bevy of bewildering outfits, two of which we've reviewed on past AQ lists, this being the third, in what we can only imagine is some sort of insane trilogy. Xynfonica came first. A "classical" record, completely composed and performed on the guitar synthesizer. A tripped out, outsider slab of post Peter And The Wolf classical deconstructed, atonal and so so so difficult, oh and did we mention that the other part of the equation was seemingly incongruous raspy evil metal vocals? A totally not-right combination, but for those of us who dig that sort of stuff, it was pretty unbeatable. Then there was the HUGE booklet of lyrics, complete with FOOTNOTES!!!
Then came Shevalreq, part two in the "trilogy", his 'world music' record, where the same atonal angular tones and notes, the howled raspy vocals, were this time wrapped around faux tablas and various other ethnic percussion instruments. If anything, it was even more fucked and amazing. Not to mention the over the top cover art, with miniature jousting knights on horseback ON TOP OF various dat machines and other studio gear. WTF?
So while we anxiously awaited part three, we were fairly sure nothing could top Shevalreq. But oh were we wrong.
The new one is called Gluttony, the name of the record: Collapse Of The Roman Republic, another epic tale of war and death and love and betrayal, this one being his quote unquote jazz record, and fuck if it's not the most amazingly fucked up record EVER. Now in addition to the metallic rasp, the stumbling angular melodies, are lots of synthesized horn stabs, crooning synthesizers, faux vibes and marimbas, synth oboes, synth bassoons, all peppered with some serious twisted tangles of Greg Ginn-esque guitar squall, usually draped over some woozy, smoky dive bar synthjazz. It still sort of sounds like Peter And The Wolf, but it also sounds like the score for some mystery noir z-movie thriller, ripe for some sort of Sam Spade voice over, but instead you get a voice over from some growling bile spewing demon, and the tracks lope on endlessly, the melodies, maniacally off kilter, the whole thing so brilliantly baffling it's almost impossible to listen to the whole thing, but we've come close. Very very close.
Absolutely recommended, but ONLY for those who can handle stuff like this. You know who you are.
A couple weeks ago, we reviewed the debut album by Aanipaa, a new experimental glitch-drone-doom project headed up by Mika Vainio and Stephen O'Malley. One of the most abject and significant elements of Aanipaa's sound was the vocals (or shall we use the term vokills) contributed by Alan Dubin. We've been fans of Dubin since back in the OLD days (OLD being his '90s grind/electronica/WTF? band with James Plotkin), and you probably also know him from Khanate, the doomic supergroup that also included both O'Malley and Plotkin. In the pantheon of anguished, extreme vokills, there's naught that can compare to Dubin's tortured throat - well maybe Keiji Haino, and possibly also the guy that sang on Bethlehem's Dictius Te Necare. They're sort of kokills that make the listener want to curl up in the fetal position, and it sounds like the singer already has.
Well, here's some more Dubin for you, in the form of the sophomore album from his own experimental doom band, from the bowels of NYC, known as Gnaw. It's another discomforting dose of avant-garde audio terror, the four other guys in the band making utterly harrowing, heavy music that manages to hold its own alongside Dubin's vocalizations, and it's not an easy task to be so extreme.
Track one, "Humming", eases (slightly) the listener in, Dubin quietly accompanied by a simple bell-like, plink-plonk motif on a keyboard, and background industrial atmospheres. Dubin makes use of maniacal, mantric repetition in his creepy lyrics, a method used throughout the album to suggest a sick state of psychological compulsion. Here repeated lines like "you left your window open / nice lady / nice lady / window open / open" make him sound like Jerry Lewis as a psychopathic prowler. But then on track two, "Of Embers", look out, 'cause the full band kicks in, to devastating effect, with crashing drum pummel and massive riff plod. And on and on and down and down it goes, Gnaw's hellish trudge laced with weird noise-damaged effects and other disturbing details. Basically, it's like a more twisted and occasionally ambient version of Khanate. Yikes!
Gnaw's first album was called Your Face; now they're doing their gnawing on the inside of your skull instead. If they ever were to do a remake of Gummo, we'd expect Gnaw to appear on the soundtrack. Vinly version includes download.
Thee extreme/experimental/industrial metal scene has a potential new ruler here, with the doomic and disturbing debut of Gnaw. If you put this disc in your computer's iTunes, you'll see some joker has categorized their genre as "children's music". Ha, don't think so! Unless you want your kids to grow up to be like Alan Dubin, of OLD/Khanate infamy, who provides the blood curdling vokills here, ranging from throat-shredding yowls to creepy stage whispers. He's joined by former members of doomlords Burning Witch, psychfolk weirdos Enos Slaughter and cold, early '80s NYC post-punk Factory Records band Ike Yard (!) for this new project, which seems to take up where Dubin's previous bands left off, but in a direction much more deviant & eccentric.
The claustrophobic chaos of track one, "Haven Vault", ought to determine pretty quick if this is for you or not. Imagine a sped-up Khanate struggling through a windstorm, Dubin bawling wretchedly amidst the buzzing murk and the splatter of improv percussion... then distant, pretty piano notes fade in eerily, one by one... it's like Khanate meets Hazard meets Supersilent, in a nightmare. Extreme indeed, and all right with us! That leads to the next track, one that's calmer and more song-like, yet perhaps even more sinister-sounding, with Dubin's negative vibe lyrics more intelligible, everything backed by a springy-sprongy electronic rhythm. More of a tribal drumming pattern is exhibited on the deep rumble of the third song.
Each track seems to delve further and further into weirdness and woe, with drone and distortion and feedback given free range of the album. The jittery percussion effects a trance-like vibe at times, perhaps allowing Dubin's words deeper, subliminal access to your subconscious (uh oh). But as big fans of both OLD and Khanate, we're all for it, glad to now have Gnaw to push those same buttons, along with other ones we hadn't expected, like the way the singing on "Watcher" sounds almost like Eugene from Oxbow. Or how it sounds like maybe Dubin & Co. have been into some dubstep lately. Or how Gnaw's crunching head nodding heaviness is cracked like Humpty D. Yep, if you like some strange surprises in your grim glitchtronic avant-metal music, and moreover enjoy the varied vokill stylings of Mr. Dubin, you'll want Gnaw's Your Face at your place.
The Conspiracy label has released this on cd (digipack) and of course LIMITED EDITION gatefold vinyl of various colors (we've got any color you want, as long as it's black). They had to leave 2 tracks off the vinyl version, but it does come with a free mp3 download card so you can get the entire album on your computer.
We're running out of superlatives, not to mention overly poetic descriptions of filth and blackness and depravity, to describe this one man cinematic black doom noise outfit, but with every record, Mories, the man behind the beast, offers still more glimpses into what lurks below, or within, the sound an ever evolving cloud of black energy, rendered audible in shades of pummeling drum plod, of downtuned melting riffs, of howled and shrieked vocalizations, of Bernard Hermann like strings, all stretched and blurred and smeared and tangled into a veritable symphony of black bleak heaviness.
It's difficult to classify, as every song tends to slip seamlessly from Wolf Eyes like industrial soundscapery, to Godflesh like metal machine crunch, to lurching Abruptum like black ritual, to almost classic sounding black metal buzz, to haunting cinematic dark ambience, each of those elements fully realized, but then hurled into a black sonic vortex, where along with all the various other sounds and shapes and colors it gets mangled and tangles and spewed out on the other side as some almost living thing, a music that is at once threatening and caustic, harrowing and hateful, but also weirdly melodic and almost classical sounding, a definite case of black(ened) beauty.
For those new to the filth encrusted soundworld that is Gnaw Their Tongues, a brief survey of song titles: "My Orifices Await Ravaging", "The Stench Of Dead Horses On My Breath And The Vile Of Existence In My Hands", "The Gnostic Ritual Consumption Of Semen As Embodiment Of Wounds Teared In The Soul", the album title: All The Dread Magnificence Of Perversity, the crown of thorns / blood splattered / bondage cover art, should all give hints as to what sort of sinister sound lurks inside, but again, all of that could point to something much more puerile and simplistic, the sound of Gnaw Their Tongues is something altogether more refined, if a word like that could be applied to something this hellish, but it does sound refined, and composed, epic and majestic, for every bit of sluggish heaviness, there's another part that is hauntingly beautiful, or strangely serene, it boggles the mind how someone creates music like this, it must come from some deep, dark, black part of the soul, and while we ourselves might fear such a place in ourselves, we can't help but be enthralled and obsessed with the sort of sonic darkness that lurks in others.
WAY recommended, as with past GGT releases...
You can definitely tell a lot about a band by the names of records and song titles. Case in point: Gnaw Their Tongues. Some song titles: "My Body is Not a Vessel, Nor a Temple. It's a Repulsive Pile of Sickness", "And There Will Be More of Your Children Dead Tomorrow", "Blood Spills Out Of Everything I Touch", "Sound the Horns, the Water is Poisoned". Some album titles: Spit at Me and Wreak Havoc on My Flesh, Preferring Human Skin Over Animal Fur, Dawn Breaks Open Like A Wound That Bleeds Afresh, Spasming and Howling, Bowels Loosening and Bladders Emptying, Vomiting, and now this, An Epiphanic Vomiting of Blood. But then what is it exactly that we can glean from these titles? That the men in Gnaw Their tongues are demented? Sick? Depraved? Probably. But where titles like this might lead one to assume the music attached to the above words would be some sort of hateful harsh white noise, or some sort of near unlistenable Whitehouse worship, the truth is, Gnaw Their Tongues is one of the few bands with an utterly distinctive and recognizable sound. There are very few bands we can think of, even amongst our favorites. You will absolutely never confuse the music of Gnaw Their Tongues with any other outfit. And conversely, you will never hear something that is not them, and assume it is, because NOTHING sounds anything like Gnaw Their Tongues.
So much so that even explaining their sound in a review is fairly difficult. The last GTT review, we resorted to a tale of hell and hellbound journeys, of total annihilation and utter destruction, of death and decay and misery, all in a bid to evoke the same sort of images and visions, thoughts and feelings that are evoked by the sounds these guys produce.
It's definitely not black metal, but it is most certainly black. If forced to describe their sound in some succinct, and non-rambling manner, it might be cinematic operatic orchestral avant industrial doom. But since we can ramble, it might be easier to dig a little deeper.
Every song is epic, like little films, sounds evoking images, evoking thoughts and emotions, horns and orchestral stabs, flutes and strings, are as much a part of the sound as guitars. Probably more so. Thick gristly slabs of buzzing low end, crawl beneath pummeling percussive plod, operatic vocals soar and wail, bits of electronic glitch and whir drift in and out, guitars are downtuned and allowed to spread like toxic oil spills, tracks are peppered with bits of dialogue, and snippets of films, found sounds and mysterious textures, occasionally, harsh hellish blackened shrieks join the fray, as do bits of dark ambience. There is plenty of space, the sound managing to be expansive and open, as well as claustrophobic and suffocating.
It's a bit like a black metal Arvo Part, scoring a lost Hitchcock thriller, so totally intense and emotional and epic, rife with nervous tension and extreme dread. Whenever the sound verges on white noise, or total implosion, the sound abates, leaving Bernard Hermann-ish strings, or some bit of cryptic dialogue, or some strange disembodied rhythm, before spilling forth again like black vomit. The layers of blasphemous sound piling up like blackened bodies, buzzy and filthy and grime-y but so composed, not really that chaotic at all, a controlled chaos perhaps, each sound painstakingly placed to help paint that blood red picture.
An impossible blend of metal, choral, industrial, electronic, ambient, drone, noise and blackness, a gorgeous, and gorgeously infernal concoction, every record, another chapter in some sick saga, hell swallowing the surface dwellers, misery and mayhem overtaking humanity, death and pestilence, the world a graveyard for humanity, such utter depravity conveyed in such epic and dementedly brilliant sounds, which is precisely why Gnaw Their Tongues is quickly becoming one of our favorite bands going�
For years now we've been singing the dark praises of this twisted one man band, whose sound is an ever-shifting
sprawl of cinematic blackened noise-doom weirdness. Delivering noxious blurts of industrial crush, wrapped around stately marches and harrowing ambience, moments of almost soundtrack-ish tranquility give away to heaving waves of crumbling power electronics or stumbling caveman pummel. As much as we love Gnaw Their Tongues, even we had trouble keeping up with his output, a barrage of singles and splits, cd-r's and cassettes, driving the obsessive completist music nerds here mad.
Well kudos to Crucial Blast for gathering up all of those odds and ends, onto one double disc, and like the releases proper, Collected Atrocities is another malevolent sonic beast, one that fits comfortable between Reeking Pained and Shuddering and An Epiphanic Vomiting Of Blood, which is where much of this stuff falls chronologically anyway, those familiar with either of those records no what sort of glorious epic filth is in store, those who are not, should be prepared for what is essentially a hellish soundtrack, to the most terrifying film never made. Strings shimmer amidst a cacophony of clang and clatter, loops warble and mutate, samples drift in from the ether, vokills howl and shriek behind veils of black thrum, and rib cage rattling low end threatens to turn your bones to dust, it's like a melting symphony colliding with a black metal band dosed on some seriously bad psychedelics, a harrowing sonic swirl, dizzying and darkly delightful, broodingly beautiful in places, but painfully punishing in others, Mories, the man behind GTT, conjuring up some insane alternative musical universe, one that evokes the maddest of hallucinations, and as we must have mentioned before, these SHOULD be the scores to twisted arthouse horror flicks, even though ultimately they don't need any visuals at all, it's that rare sort of sound that opens some primitive portal in your brain, unleashing your imagination, and sending it spiraling into the darkest depths of your blackened soul.
Packaged in a super swank 6 panel digipak, with some very cringeworthy artwork.
We almost missed out on this one completely. Limited to 100 copies or so, we tried to order 40 and were informed they only had a handful left. So we begged and pleaded, and the label agreed to press up 40 more copies just for us, and thus for you. Whew! Since we discovered this band we've become pretty obsessed. As have you all, judging from how quick we sell out of Gnaw records. They're heavy, they're super fucked up, it's not just black metal or sludge, it's some head spinning hybrid equal parts abstract industrial, ambient collageblasting blackness, hyperspeed grind, blackdrone, harsh and hellish, but strangely musical, their last record, the recently reviewed An Epiphanic Vomiting Of Blood (they have a knack for titles too) is pretty much a shoe in for record of the year. Have a look at that review for some serious gushing.
This 3 song ep, is GTT at their most black metal. The first two tracks, while laced with bits of orchestral grandeur, and blown out crumbling bliss, spend most of their time blasting away, but even then, there are bits of melodic flair here and there, the distortion is so thick and intense, the whole thing threatens to blur into some thick whirring drone, the opener has a killer breakdown groove, utterly majestic and epic, before flitting back to the black blast. The second track is another blackened monster, furiously thrashing and convulsing wildly, but it too is peppered with bits of glimmering effulgence, and a middle breakdown where distorted guitars are pitched up and allowed to shimmer ominously like some Bernard Hermann score, before the metal drops back in, transforming the track into a pummeling slow motion Godflesh style industrial dirge that eventually launches itself back into a furious burst of grim brutality.
The final track is the creepiest of the bunch, long drawn out synth drones, wavering ominously, wrapped in bis of whir and metallic buzz, samples distorted and effected drifting amidst the swirling black ambience, the moodiness eventually overtaken by a thick wave of white noise distortion and what sounds like voices screaming in terror, finally splintering into a hellish black frenzy.
Packaged in a mini 3" dvd-style case, with full color artwork, and pressed on a black cd-r. Limited to these 40 copies, once they're gone, might be tough to convince them to make us more again...
It seems almost criminal to release something so limited by a band as hyped as these guys (or this guy) are lately. But there you go. 100 copies. Already sold out. We got almost half of them, but even just in the store they've been flying out of here. So you should know what that means by now. Thankfully, all the hype is well deserved and then some. Gnaw Their Tongues is one of the grimmest, sickest, darkest, most gloriously fucked up outfits going, mixing black ambient drones, dirgey sludge, buzzing black metal, abstract industrial, even mixing in bits of dialogue and snippets of opera and random other weirdness, the result a totally baffling and bewildering headfuck, that manages to creep the shit out of us, but somehow keep us listening over and over and over and over.
Devotion though is a departure, ditching much of the metal of past releases, as well as most of the song structure, and opts for something much more static and ambient, but no less heavy, these four tracks are thick swaths of dark torturous throb and groan, creaks and shimmers, rendered in crumbling greys and hoarse ghostlike wheezes. It's like an aural tour of some mysterious catacombs, built from skulls and rotting flesh, the bleak atmosphere rife with the sounds of strange machinery, the tortured cries of the doomed, a veritable symphony of cacophonous crashes and deafening blasts of blown out buzz, boiled down into a primordial ooze and smeared into gorgeously lush waves of corrosive grinding crush, a bristly brutal blur that slithers and undulates like a pit full of black snakes.
The packaging is appropriately grim and black and bleak, and fancy, as are most At War With False Noise releases, printed cd-r's housed in a two sided washed out black and white gatefold sleeve, decorated with goats and candles and bloodshed and naked women, tucked in an oversized A5 sized black cardstock gatefold jacket, with a barely legible black on black vellum cover, all in a plastic outer sleeve.
And again, limited to 100 copies, already out of print, blah blah blah...
Not sure how we first heard about Gnaw Their Tongues, pretty sure a customer recommended them, but believe us when we say that the words Gnaw Their Tongues had barely left their lips (or maybe more accurately, the words had barely left the email and reached our cerebral cortex) and we were already smitten. How could they not rule with a name like that? The question was merely HOW they would rule, dark and creepy? Heavy and harsh? Doom? Blacknoise? Drone? Howabout all of those?! Oh yeah, it's almost like someone snuck into the AQ barracks in the middle of the night to scan our minds and see what kind of bands we dreamed about, the bands our subconscious really wished existed.�
They took all the data back to their lair, the one hidden beneath that big scary mountain, and spent years analyzing it, and creating equations, chemicals, compounds, months in an underground lab, until eventually the whole project was forgotten.�
Until years later, when a record store employee was hiking and discovered the ruins of some old, well, it looked like a fortress, maybe a lair, and decided, against all the wisdom gleaned from a million after school specials, to explore. Way down deep in the dusty recesses of this old forgotten lair, this record store feller discovered some sort of portal, rusted shut it seemed, and adorned with messages in some strange language, an alien tongue if you will, they looked like warnings, but what the heck, shit like that only happens in horror movies, so the feller went about trying to unlock the portal, and after what seemed like ages, the lock clicked, and the rusty metal swung open, and suddenly all was blackness, and dripping red, and agony and misery, and hell embodied on earth, in the form of this filthy black musick.�
That filthy black musick was this, the first recorded document by these mysterious black beasties known as Gnaw Their Tongues. Who spew forth a caustic noxious ultradoom. A black metallized lurch and stumble, harsh, hellish vocals buried beneath an avalanche of corrosive guitar, strange alien ambience, and mechanical monster drumming. Horrible and grotesque and dizzyingly brutal, but with tiny vestiges of beauty and melody, occasionally visible through the dense black sonic fog. Stretches of distorted doom verging on the beautiful, separating gut wrenching squalls of utter black chaos. And that's just the first track.�
The second is like the first, only fast. Really fast. Like sticking your head into the middle of a lightning storm. Like Velvet Caccoon and Wold and Amacoma all playing simultaneously, at full volume, broadcast through Konono's PA, untiil your ears bleed, but it's not all pain and suffering, this� whirling world of sound is again strangely melodic, twisted into some almost pop like shapes, but always quickly bathed in blackness and sent spinning� back into the fray.�
"29 Needles" is a step away from the end, and is some sort of industrial plod, a garish landscape of bleak brutality, sparse ultradistorted percussion, clouds of caustic whir, creepy ghostlike voices, the sort of sounds that make Wolf Eyes sound like the Carpenters. A musical death march through a world of fire and death and destruction, of keening musical misery and downtuned sonic punishment.�
Finally, the prophecy is complete with once the sounds of "Die Mutter Wahlt Das Todtenkleidchen" reach the ears of mortal man. The plants wither and the sky grows dim, our hearts beat slower and our blood begins to boil, the earth begins to crack, and slowly we sink into the depths of the underworld, and this is the sound that the end of all things makes. A lonely slowed down low end caterwaul, a rumbling whir peppered with jagged streaks of harsh noise, thick swells of coruscating sonic malevolence, storm clouds of hiss and buzz, a pounding skull splitting din from the heavens, an electrical storm that singes every nerve in your body, leaving you paralyzed, supine, blind, and mute, with only your ears ringing painfully, just barely able to make out the dying gasps of life as we know it.
NOW REPRESSED AND AVAILABLE AGAIN AT A CHEAPER PRICE!!
Here's our review of the Die Mutter reissue when we first listed it back in 2009:
Two long out of print cd-r's from our favorite symphonic black doom noize combo, gets the ultra deluxe reissue treatment. Both Die Mutter Wahlt Das Todtenkleidchen, originally released on Corps-Morts (the first thing we ever heard from GTT), and Dawn Breaks Open Like A Wound That Bleeds Afresh originally released on Universal Tongue, are both represented here in full, and on top of that, there are THREE unreleased bonus tracks, so even folks who have those original cds will probably want this, not just for the bonus tracks (although that might be enough), but to have those two out of print cd-r's on a proper cd!! Gorgeous packaging too, super striking 6 panel digipak, comes with a GTT sticker too.
Not sure how we first heard about Gnaw Their Tongues, pretty sure a customer recommended them, but believe us when we say that the words Gnaw Their Tongues had barely left their lips (or maybe more accurately, the words had barely left the email and reached our cerebral cortex) and we were already smitten. How could they not rule with a name like that? The question was merely HOW they would rule, dark and creepy? Heavy and harsh? Doom? Blacknoise? Drone? Howabout all of those?! Oh yeah, it's almost like someone snuck into the AQ barracks in the middle of the night to scan our minds and see what kind of bands we dreamed about, the bands our subconscious really wished existed.
They took all the data back to their lair, the one hidden beneath that big scary mountain, and spent years analyzing it, and creating equations, chemicals, compounds, months in an underground lab, until eventually the whole project was forgotten.
Until years later, when a record store employee was hiking and discovered the ruins of some old, well, it looked like a fortress, maybe a lair, and decided, against all the wisdom gleaned from a million after school specials, to explore. Way down deep in the dusty recesses of this old forgotten lair, this record store feller discovered some sort of portal, rusted shut it seemed, and adorned with messages in some strange language, an alien tongue if you will, they looked like warnings, but what the heck, shit like that only happens in horror movies, so the feller went about trying to unlock the portal, and after what seemed like ages, the lock clicked, and the rusty metal swung open, and suddenly all was blackness, and dripping red, and agony and misery, and hell embodied on earth, in the form of this filthy black musick.
That filthy black musick was in fact these two musical documents by these mysterious black beasties known as Gnaw Their Tongues. Who on Die Mutter Wahlt Das Todtenkleidchen, spew forth a caustic noxious ultradoom. A black metallized lurch and stumble, harsh, hellish vocals buried beneath an avalanche of corrosive guitar, strange alien ambience, and mechanical monster drumming. Horrible and grotesque and dizzyingly brutal, but with tiny vestiges of beauty and melody, occasionally visible through the dense black sonic fog. Stretches of distorted doom verging on the beautiful, separating gut wrenching squalls of utter black chaos. And that's just the first track.
The second is like the first, only fast. Really fast. Like sticking your head into the middle of a lightning storm. Like Velvet Caccoon and Wold and AmacomA all playing simultaneously, at full volume, broadcast through Konono's PA, until your ears bleed, but it's not all pain and suffering, this whirling world of sound is again strangely melodic, twisted into some almost pop like shapes, but always quickly bathed in blackness and sent spinning back into the fray.
"29 Needles" is a step away from the end, and is some sort of industrial plod, a garish landscape of bleak brutality, sparse ultradistorted percussion, clouds of caustic whir, creepy ghostlike voices, the sort of sounds that make Wolf Eyes sound like the Carpenters. A musical death march through a world of fire and death and destruction, of keening musical misery and downtuned sonic punishment.
Finally, the prophecy is complete with once the sounds of "Die Mutter Wahlt Das Todtenkleidchen" reach the ears of mortal man. The plants wither and the sky grows dim, our hearts beat slower and our blood begins to boil, the earth begins to crack, and slowly we sink into the depths of the underworld, and this is the sound that the end of all things makes. A lonely slowed down low end caterwaul, a rumbling whir peppered with jagged streaks of harsh noise, thick swells of coruscating sonic malevolence, storm clouds of hiss and buzz, a pounding skull splitting din from the heavens, an electrical storm that singes every nerve in your body, leaving you paralyzed, supine, blind, and mute, with only your ears ringing painfully, just barely able to make out the dying gasps of life as we know it.
Then came Dawn Breaks Open Like A Wound That Bleeds Afresh. We almost missed out on it completely. The original version limited to 100 copies or so, we tried to order 40 and were informed they only had a handful left. So we begged and pleaded, and the label agreed to press up 40 more copies just for us, and thus for you. But those were gone before we knew it. Which is why this reissue is such a godsend (satansend?) Since we first discovered this band we had become pretty obsessed. As have the aQ blacknoize minions, judging from how quick we sell out of Gnaw records. They're heavy, they're super fucked up, it's not just black metal or sludge, it's some head spinning hybrid equal parts abstract industrial, ambient collageblasting blackness, hyperspeed grind, blackdrone, harsh and hellish, but strangely musical.
Dawn Breaks Open Like A Wound That Bleeds Afresh finds GTT at their most black metal. The first two tracks, while laced with bits of orchestral grandeur, and blown out crumbling bliss, spend most of their time blasting away, but even then, there are bits of melodic flair here and there, the distortion is so thick and intense, the whole thing threatens to blur into some thick whirring drone, the opener has a killer breakdown groove, utterly majestic and epic, before flitting back to the black blast. The second track is another blackened monster, furiously thrashing and convulsing wildly, but it too is peppered with bits of glimmering effulgence, and a middle breakdown where distorted guitars are pitched up and allowed to shimmer ominously like some Bernard Hermann score, before the metal drops back in, transforming the track into a pummeling slow motion Godflesh style industrial dirge that eventually launches itself back into a furious burst of grim brutality.
The final track is the creepiest of the bunch, long drawn out synth drones, wavering ominously, wrapped in bis of whir and metallic buzz, samples distorted and effected drifting amidst the swirling black ambience, the moodiness eventually overtaken by a thick wave of white noise distortion and what sounds like voices screaming in terror, finally splintering into a hellish black frenzy.
As mentioned in the introduction to this review, in addition to the reissued tracks, this version of Die Mutter also includes three new, unreleased tracks. The first is a gorgeous post industrial orchestral crawl, heaving horns, crunching metallic percussion, guttural vocalizations, blasting beats, exotic strings, long stretches of haunting cinematic ambience, heavy and harrowing, the production fucked up and fractured, the sound woozy and wonderfully grim. The second is more of the same, a lumbering death march painted in broad swaths of majestic strings, buzz drenched guitars, all wrapped around a super spare machinelike pound, fuzzed out Goblin like synths, like a Bernard Hermann score gone haywire. And finally, the awesomely titled closer "I Am The Lord And There Is No Other; I Make The Light, I Create Darkness" (GTT definitely have a way with song and album titles), a slow burning bit of black ambient drift, distant drones, creepy keyboard shimmers, dark layered waves of low end rumble, epic swells of soundtracky creepiness, while all throughout, the track drifts through sprawling fields of mysterious creaks and groans, clatter and crunch. Occasional squalls of orchestral percussion tangle with blurred bits of otherworldly whir, all streaked with sweetly sorrowful strings. So good.
If you're new to Gnaw Their Tongues, and you're into sounds blackened and brutal and bizarre and fucked up and noisy and creepy and epic, then you couldn't find a better place to start than this, and yeah, GTT fanatics, you're definitely gonna want this, even if you have the cd-r's, as we mentioned above, this is some of the best GTT material, finally on a proper cd, but even more importantly, this would be well worth $10 even if it was just a 20 minute / 3 song ep containing only the bonus tracks.
Latest ep of cinematic doom dirge black ambience from this freaky one man band, and like past missives, this stuff is gorgeous, sick, confusing, heavy, fucked up, noisy, mysterious, cinematic, epic, disturbing and totally brilliant.
It's supposedly an ep, but it's almost an hour long, and for most folks an hour of this punishment is all you could take.
Check out some of our other Gnaw reviews, to read our gushing descriptions of the super evocative sound world GTT is able to conjure up, we wrote endlessly about bleak barren wastelands, charred bodies, horrific site and sounds, it's almost easier to describe the images and ideas that this music evokes that it is to describe the sounds themselves. But we'll have a go.
Imagine Abruptum scoring films and you might have a rough idea: strings soar, horns moan and bleat, industrial percussion is laced throughout, vocals are disembodied guttural howls, melodies creep through blackened soundscapes of buzz and pound, opening up into expanses of creak and clatter, laced with samples and found sounds, all floating above a sea of tense dronemusic, everything wrapped in swirling clouds of black sludge, and doomic rumbles. The clouds occasionally part, revealing some intimate moment, whether musical and dramatic, agonized wailing, or some strange dialogue, usually tangled up with some gloomy melody, some stumbling rhythm, before exploding again into a cacophonous blast of epic cinematic blacknoize.
This record doesn't deviate too much from past releases, which is just fine with us, it sounds like we're just digging deeper into the scarred psyche behind Gnaw Their Tongues, the most notable difference might be the presence of more sampled strings, and the record's closer which is a gorgeous buzzing midtempo black metal dirge, that manages to sound grim and raw, but also weirdly melodic and emotional.
GTT is one of the few bands who manages to create an absolutely unique sound, an impossible doom / black metal / ambient hybrid that fuses all of those various sounds perfectly into something that is both all and none of those. And as always, garish artwork, this time a topless woman preparing to emasculate a supine nude man, and of course song titles like "The Uncomfortable Silence In Between Beatings" and "My Womb Is Barren And I Want Revenge".
Fucked up and genius and thus absolutely recommended.
As we may have mentioned before, with every Gnaw Their Tongues release, we find ourselves once again struggling to describe the blackened filth and abject cinematic doom contained within. Fans already know what they're in store for, and will most likely want more, need more even. The music of Gnaw Their Tongues is the sort of grim black sound that inspires some strange unquenchable hunger for more. A mysterious desire to fall ever deeper into the abyss, to explore GTT's hellish sonic underworld, each record a dizzying assemblage of crushing industrial dirge, of glacial black metal buzz, of clattery, chaotic blacknoize, of weirdly operatic choral music, all woven into some sort of pitch black musical ritual.
L'Arrivee De La Terne Mort Triomphante is merely the latest miserable missive from the black soul who sits on a black throne, made from charred bones, as he gnaws tongues, drinks blood, and as a choir of demons serenades him with these sick sick sounds, but in some ways, L'Arrivee does differ from past releases, in that more than most, it allows the classical element room to breathe. GTT was always some sort of demented Arvo Part / Abruptum hybrid, mixing strings and choirs into the swirling black miasma of crush and thud and buzz and howl, and on L'Arrivee, the orchestral / cinematic side for maybe the first time, does battle with the blackened heavy side, the result a surprisingly dynamic, darkly cinematic chunk of dramatic over the top blackness. One can almost envision this as some sort of crazy Hermann Nitsch style opera, flames and blood, and carcasses, everything dripping with black ichor, lit from below, the shadows like living black beasts, the sound the perfect reflection of those images, booming timpani, moaning sorrowful strings, symphonic swells, operatic voices, mournful pianos, a sort of epic bombastic chamber music, the heaviness and buzz and black occasionally pulled back, allowing the pianos and strings time to unfurl, before quickly being swallowed up again.
The sound here too seems a bit more lush, more produced, cleaner, but without losing any of the filth. We might go so far as to say this is the most accessible GTT release to date, but then it's all relative, this is still some seriously crusty, devastatingly brutal, menacing and mean black doom misery, but deftly woven into something more melodic, more emotionally charged, where past GTT records were simply hateful and hellish, pummeling and punishing, L'Arrivee De La Terne Mort Triomphante is something more, an epic, intense journey, the soundtrack element can't be understated, this totally plays out like the score to some insane, and insanely harrowing epic, a tale of death, and lost souls, and the end of humanity, and total annihilation, but as with all great epics, there continues to be hope, a glowing ember, that sits at the middle of it all, waiting to be discovered, and to perhaps eventually triumph, or perhaps to perish and disappear into utter and unending blackness. Quite possibly the most epic black doom cinematic symphonic noise metal opera EVER.
We've gotten to the point with every review of a new Gnaw Their Tongues record, where we're essentially at a loss for words, if you have a look on the aQ site at past reviews, you'll see these sprawling ultra wordy descriptions that read like some sort of sinister poetry, because really, that's the only way to describe the twisted sound world of cinematic black doom outfit Gnaw Their Tongues, the work of a single man called Mories, who as we've established in the past, must be one twisted fellow. Cuz no one that wasn't utterly demented and deranged could create sounds like this. We have the genre in iTunes for this as 'Industrial Symphonic Cinematic Black Doom', which is as succinct a descriptor as we could come up with. And is fairly accurate. Odds are if you're a fan, you can't get enough, and you're gonna want this one too, after all these sorts of sick sonics engender obsessiveness, trust us, we're totally under Mories' thrall as well, and greet every new slab of twisted genius filth, like some bowl of rotting porridge slipped between the bars of our cell. We beg for the darkness, we imbibe of the blackness, we devour the sounds we are given.
But for those new to this bleak world of chaotic sonic mystery and abject cinematic noise, have a gander at the song titles, "Human Skin For The Messenger's Robe", "Urine-Soaked Neophytes", "Fallen Deities Bathing In Gall", "Bonedust On Dead Genitals", "The Storming Heavens As A Father To All Broken Bodies", which should give you at least a rough idea of the spirit of GTT, now imagine those sentiments rendered in sound, and you have Per Flagellum Sanguemque, Tenebras Veneramus, which in English translates as "with blood and whip, we worship the dark", which again, should leave no doubt as to what lies beyond the blackened gates, a world of churning black metal offal, of demonic symphonies, the sound of Gnaw Their Tongues is precisely what we would imagine Satan's symphony must sound like, epic and majestic, but utterly bleak and blackened, the sound swirling and blurred, erupting into thick gouts of black buzz, but just as often collapsing into something more akin to the score for a bloodletting. The sound does occasionally let up, but it's usually only to build tension, offer dynamics, or unveil the sound of some poor wretch retching, or the cries of people as their skins are flayed, Gnaw Their Tongues is a torture chamber in sound, but so exquisitely rendered, we often find ourselves wondering why Mories isn't scoring every twisted horror film in Hollywood, probably because these sounds are too evocative, and paint too much of a distinct picture, that the need for actual images is practically null.
The thing with GTT records, is that often, there's too much going on, and the can become a head spinning wall of sound, a swirling roiling cauldron of black noise, but more often the balance is just right, and Mories' creation is perfectly balanced, equal parts buzzing blackness, abject doom, and haunting symphonic mesmer, a melding of horror score, outsider abstract doom metal and epic classical music, and Per Flagellum Sanguemque, Tenebras Veneramus seems to be maybe the most perfect specimen yet, spending less time grinding and howling and blasting and buzzing, and more time conjuring up some seriously soul stirring ambience, and some blackly symphonic sonic horror.
As always, utterly intense, ridiculously epic, and has us wondering what kind of demented mind can conjure up such glorious filth, and then actually creates it. Grim genius!
If for some reason you missed out on the last Gnaw Their Tongues release, a super limited cd-r now unfortunately out of print, and aren't yet as ridiculously obsessed with these guys as we are, we can get you up to speed pretty easily. Beyond the evocative name, there's the record title: Reeking Pained and Shuddering, and how about the song titles: "Blood Spills Out Of Everything I Touch", "Destroying Is Creating" or "Nihilism; Tied Up And Burning". And if you still don't have even a rough idea of what you're in for, there's always the music itself, a roiling sonic cesspool of unfettered abject brutality and buzzing murky malevolence. A sort of black metal doom noise hybrid, like Abruptum jamming with Wolf Eyes but slowed way dooooooown, dipped in tar, rolled in dirt and shoved staggering and bloody out of your speakers.
But this isn't just noisy, or heavy or brutal, each song is strangely nuanced, and manages to veer wildly all over the sonic map without losing cohesiveness, each track is like a mini epic, with movements, moods, a convoluted song structure that is tangled and serpentine but that has some alien logic.
Take the 8+ minute opening track "Blood Spills Out Of Everything I Touch", which begins with a lurching industrial plod, all lo-fi Godflesh pound and pummel, in a swirling cloud of grey fog FX, but then, the riffs take on some horror movie like cinematic ambience, somehow sounding orchestral and majestic, before falling apart into some strange shuffling skittering krautdoom, peppered with what sounds like horns, snippets of dialogue, and huge booming downtuned crashes, until everything peels back, just leaving a weird smear of rumbling drones and smeared carnival music, beneath a super creepy monologue from some film, appropriately gruesome, the music in the background looping and more and more ominous, eventually building to a near static symphony of vacuum cleaner whir, above a skeletal framework of skittery percussion, and moaning creaking collapsing-building downtuned riffage. And that's just one song.
"Utter Futility Of Creation" begins with super sinister soundtracky strings, before the hammer falls and the record resumes its monstrous lurch, but the strings never go away, they trill and soar and scrape in the background, adding super dramatic tension and furthering the idea that this record might be the soundtrack to the scariest movie ever made. Here and there the band bow out, leaving the strings to weave an ominous swirl of sonic terror and panic, the band pulsing in the background, as if waiting to pounce, again what sound like horns join the fray. It's like what Goblin might have sounded like had they grown up on a steady diet of grindcore and black metal. "Nihilism; Tied Up And Burning" begins as another chunk of lost cinematic black ambience with female operatic vocals over a dark black whirl of thrum and throb, before a grinding looped riff surfaces and the band launch into a blasting slab of black metal, but all tangled up with those haunting vocals, and bathed in a fuzz so thick it sounds like it was recorded by Tim Hecker or Christian Fennesz, but so much more harsh and harrowing. Much of the rest of the record leans toward the ambient, with the buzzing guitars washed out into dense drones, more fucked up field recordings and samples, processed vocals, whirring alien loops, howled moaned voices, but still with the occasional stretch of pounding percussion, or wall of impossibly detuned guitar, everything crumbling and filthy, frightening and seriously fucked up. Definitely one of our new favorite bands.
Some of this stuff is previously released, mostly on outrageously limited cd-r's and cassette releases, so while some of you collector fiends might have one or two of these tracks, as far as the rest of us are concerned, this fresh musical meat!
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!! Housed in a white dvd case, with full color artwork and printed heavy paper insert.
What might you glean from an image of a shepherd with a ram's head cradling a baby lamb, standing amidst a flock of sheep, or what appears to be an image of Jesus or a saint or angel, also with a ram's head? What if those images were accompanied by phrases like "Rend Each Other Like Wild Beasts, Till Earth Shall Reek With Midnight Massacre", or "Then Shall They Come, Oh Master, Shrieking From Red Battlefields To People Thy Dark Realms", or "In Sullen Silence Stalks Forth Pestilence"? Well if you've been reading the aQuarius list for a while, you'd no doubt realize that this must be another filthy blackened sonic missive from our favorite master of cinematic black doom, Gnaw Their Tongues.
Three new tracks, all lengthy and dense and brutal and hellishly symphonic, we've struggled to describe the sound of GTT in the past, it's not doom, or black metal, although it incorporates bits of both, it's the strings and horns and haunting ambience, the weird samples and film clips, the strange arrangements that play out more like orchestrations than jams, that make Gnaw Their Tongues so singularly fucked up and genius.
Side one is all hellish deep drones wrapped around distant foghorns, or some sort of inhuman cries, layered atop dense rumbles and muted industrial percussion, tense, ominous, harrowing, building to a crushing cacophony, like a Godflesh record played at 16 rpm, alongside a soulful strings record playing at 8 rpm, the horns bleating and skronking and moaning beneath the heaving machinelike pound. Bursts of blasting buzzing crunch pepper the doomscape, as do super distorted harsh howls, and all manner of tangled melody, like some symphony of filth and crust, a creeping lumbering abstract soundscape, with a super haunting horror movie outro.
The 2nd side is more spacious and doomy, but no less intense, bits of backwards melody lace the stumbling pound, like some Bernard Hermann horror movie score gone haywire, all screaming strings, screaming voices, mysterious samples, all gorgeously abject, but hauntingly beautiful, the mournful horns, the dramatic stings, and the crumbling black wall of sound carrying everything forward and dragging it down to hell.
Gorgeous packaging, the aforementioned ram headed figures on the cover, with a heavy printed inner sleeve, and pressed on thick vinyl. LIMITED TO 300 COPIES. Almost out of print, these are most likely our last copies ever...
NOTE: All jackets slightly damaged, not enough to distress most folks, but anal record collectors beware!
The return of our favorite one man blackened noise drenched cinematic doomscape wrecking crew, with a super limited single, only 300 copies, of which we got about 40. Already sold out and out of print, so act fast if you want one of these filthy little black slabs.
And filthy they are, and heavy, and noisy, and most definitely the most metal thing we've heard from GTT to date. Two tracks, both sound cut from the same blood soaked cloth, relentless blast beats and drum machine splatter buried beneath thick oozing layers of churning downtuned black buzz, underpinned by tripped out keyboards, and some super harsh processed vokills. Occasionally moaning slabs of woozy drone surface, or the vocals become even more garbled, but the pace remains frenetic. Both sides feature a breakdown of sorts, the A side finds the sound slipping into some weird sort of soundtracky Goblin territory, all queasy synths and creepy minor key melodies, epic and cinematic, but still filthy and grimy and lo-fi, while the B-side introduces some haunting spoken word, over a dense swirl of drones and hums and buzzing, before exploding again into a guitar drenched blacknoise outro.
Awesome as always, and again, already OUT OF PRINT. These are the last copies, we, you or anyone else will ever see.
It was inevitable that these two would team up. Gnaw Their Tongues' blackened symphonic cinematic doom, and Alkerdeel's grim doomdirge and tranced out black buzz definitely sound like a recipe for some sort of sick sonic genius, and this 20 minute jam seems to confirm that theory, a slow, grinding blackened sprawl, dense Teutonic thrum, and gurgled monstrous vocals, a black drifting intro to some full on slo-mo funeral doom, lumbering tarpit trudgery, anguished howls over melting sludgy riffage, all wreathed in what sounds like shimmering strings. Abject and miserable, but infused with a weird cinematic heft, this deathlike creep oozes ominously, a downtuned deathmarch, that is suddenly transformed into something almost spacey, the distortion dialed back, leaving just rumbles and shimmers, and low end drifts, the vocals now a hissy whisper, everything blurred and smeared into a black cloud, suddenly exploding into full on, blasting black metal chaos, noisy, and heavy reverbed, a dizzying squall of buzzing and blasting musical mania, the sound growing subtly more melodic, slowing down too, with some almost-groove added to the mix, but still loose and ramshackle and seemingly perpetually on the verge of total collapse, and then the sound transforms again into a killer blast of roiling murky churn, that's more tranced out than buzzy, that too dissipates, leaving another wildly thrashing stretch of blackness, before a burst of white noise howl, obliterates everything, leaving just a gorgeous bit of pulsing melody infused noise to wind down, the various sounds receding into the blackness, eventually leaving just some gurgling low end, and a chorus of demonic vokills, all over a murky, muddy bed of churning synth flecked black blur warble.
Not sure about you, but when we rip cds into iTunes to put on our iPods, we long ago ditched the traditional genre descriptions and began making genres of our own, that more accurately reflected what the music really sounded like. A quick glance at our iTunes library reveals genres like African Psych, Rembetika, Experimental / Minimal / Classical, Powerviolence, Funereal Dooooooom, Gore Grind, Finnish Avant Rock, Electric Sitar Garage Psych, Gooom, Cinematic Space Psych, Psychedelic Space Synth, and then of course one genre, reserved specifically for Gnaw Their Tongues, Industrial Symphonic Cinematic Black Doom. Which if you've yet to hear this twisted one man band, should definitely give you an inkling of what you're in for.
On this split though, much of the symphonic, bombastic element has been dialed way back, in favor of something much more bleak and minimal, a creepy distorted black ambience, laced with all sorts of creepy field recordings and industrial clatter. Eventually this abstract drift coalesces into something much more intense, a furious blast of full on blacknoize, crumblingly distorted and seriously blown out, processed vox wound into the roiling blackened mix, all underpinned by a dark lurching rhythm. The vocals eventually morph into voKILLS, the background black abyss becomes more intense, a churning glitched out crumbling buzz, that threatens to swallow up all the other sounds, and eventually does.
GTT is matched up with Corephallism, who we had never heard before, which is apparently a solo project of one of the guys from Boston noise outfit Twodeadsluts Onegoodfuck, which had us expecting some harsh noise, but instead, the first begins with long layered synth tones, and deep sonorous chants, blurred hazy rumbling drones, the vibe is almost liturgical, at least until a cascade of crumbling static explodes into action, bringing with it, some crzed demonic vocal rasps, the match up of the almost serene synths and the crumbling, crackling, hissing howling noise is pretty potent, an ends up making it more listenable than you might think. The second track follows a similar pattern, but the noise triumphs this time around, the background a slow rumbling chordal swell, hypnotic and woozy, over which is laid a sheet of feedback drenched white noise skree, and more buried vokills, and while this track is much harsher, that pulsing low end background manages to balance the noise, and make it more droned out mesmer than ear destroying pummel.
Killer 4 way split of extreme outsider heaviness, most folks will probably grab this for the two new Gnaw Their Tongues tracks, but will probably end up digging the other three bands nearly as much.
But since GTT might be the reason most folks are here, let's talk about those tracks first. No huge departures, just more of that same, grim, apocalyptic, industrial, cinematic doom. "Crawl" is just that, a harrowing sonic crawl, with blown out distorted drums, heaving downtuned guitars, moaning miserable melodies, hysterical shrieks, shimmering strings, dense drones, a freaked out apocalyptic soundtrack to the death of mankind. "Paleness" is more of the same, but more metal, the main riff a blurred bit of undulating buzz, the vocals insane, the drums and industrial plod, long stretches of creepy ambience, the final half of the song a dense, thick, layered bit of blackened slow motion dronemusic, that is as weirdly hypnotic as it is hellish. Definitely worth it for fans, to get those two tracks, but there's much more metallic misery to be had.
The Arm And Sword Of A Bastard God (killer name!) are a Southern California doomkult, and traffic in plodding blackened doom, minimal and murky, big guitars, pounding drums, and some sick slowed down death metal style vocals. Halo Of The Sun contribute their own bit of UK style doom-ed blackness, a frantic bit of black metal laced with wild squiggly guitar harmonies, harsh vox, a definite Cradle Of Filth vibe, weirdly melodic, but way more lo-fi and underground, the track breaks down into a lurching doomy trudge, there are even some weird processed clean vocals, but it's soon back into the dense black grind and churn. Cool stuff for sure. Definitely be into hearing more from these guys.
And last up, from LA come The Slaughtered Lamb, who also do the black doom thing, their sound way more akin to Gnaw Their Tongues, super distorted, almost industrial, the guitars crumbling and nearly formless, the vocals dripping in effects, a filthy abject sonic crawl through broken glass and bloody entrails, leading to the 26 minute closer, an sprawling bit of epic and dismal black ambience, from hushed shimmer, to distorted thrum, to black buzz creep and back again.
All four bands impress, so buy it for the Gnaw Their Tongues, but stick around for the Slaughtered Lamb!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Latest from Bay Area black metal duo Lascoiec, a split with a band (person) called Gnieu, from Belarus, who we had never heard before, but who, after about a minute of the first track, might just be one of our new favorite bands. After a brief bit of doomic creep, the song erupts in a flurry of twisted tangled buzz, the drums a chaotic stutter, the riffs, so blurry and black, they're just a wall of thrum, while a strange melody, played on another guitar, or a keyboard, hard to say, flutters and flits and gets all tangled up, and eventually the sound seems to coalesce into something more traditionally buzzy and black, but then continues to constantly shift and transform, exploding into impossibly fast burst of blackbuzzblur, the drums completely bizarre, skittery and super intricate, the sound stumbling into wildly chaotic crush, before exploding again in a wild squall of bleary eared blur, there seems to be some keyboards too, but instead of making obvious keyboard noises, they just thicken the sound, adding texture and buried melody, the result is something warm and washed out, epic and majestic, black and buzzy, and in its own way sort of free and abstract, but also weirdly haunting and pretty, without losing any of its grim mystery. As the record progresses, the sound remains firmly in some sonic netherworld, guitars are swathed in reverb, unfurl surfy almost riffs, only to slip into a weird bit of minimal ambient jangle, before building to some sort of dirgey drift, only to again lurch into an explosive sprawl of warped blackness. Pretty sure we're gonna have to track down every single thing from these guys.
And we haven't even gotten to the Lascowiec side, who start things off with a bit of natural ambience, a dreamy bit of folky guitar over birdsong, lilting and dreamy, laced with some subtle mysterious sounds and effects, but for the most part very pretty, only to abruptly switch to some murky minor key black buzz, the sound warm and washed out, the vocals a buried demonic croak, the sound haunting and majestic, grim and depressive, and like all the Lascowiec we've heard managing to sound both intense and black, yet weirdly haunting and lovely, could be partially the production, wrapping everything in a gauzy veil of blurred shimmer, but it also seems to be the melodic structure and the arrangements, definitely frantic and frenzied, but muted and a muddied, dreamily lo-fi, but without ever losing its blackened brutality.
A pretty fantastic split, a new discovery (and obsession) and an old favorite, both sides getting much repeat play around here for sure.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES. Each one hand numbered.
This mysterious UK psychedelic space rock collective return with this sprawling three track 12" that displays a whole 'nother side to these faves. Whereas before, we typically aligned Gnod with groups like White Hills, and Carlton Melton, and the Heads, on these three tracks, they delve into a twisted strain of dark electronics, which to a certain degree still retain some of the psychedelia and spaciness of past outings, but here, those elements are woven into a pulsing landscape of murk and slow shifting texture, a sort of primitive psychedelic house music really, the opener is all sequenced pulse and throb, beneath a slow swirl of greyed out shimmer, and underpinned by deep rumbling low end, mesmerizingly motorik and minimal, not danceable per se, but certainly still some sort of mutant electronica, which on in "20 Sides A Minute" unfurls into an epic stretch of minimal skitter, percolating synth sputter beneath a slowed down four on the floor rhythm, the surrounding sounds swirling drowsily from speaker to speaker, the sounds growing darker and more minimal as the track progresses, sort of reminding us of Shit & Shine if they made a record for Kompakt if that makes any sense. Tripped out, and darkly meditative, with some extreme stereo panning that is definitely made for headphone trip out.
The whole of the B side is taken up by the 16+ minute "Defeatism", which starts out as a hushed drone, before revealing itself as some weird gothy new wave jam, all 303 drum machines, swirly synth pads, manic rhythmic skitter, over drifty chordal swirl and shimmery ambience, it's Gnod, so there's plenty of weirdness going on in and around and under the surface, and about half way through the sound shifts dramatically, and becomes super murky and muddy and ominous, the low end expanding into a black sonic cloud, before turning downright kosmische at one point, only to finish things off with a wild tangled of bass pulsations, fluttering skitter, and FX drenched crackle, once again swirling wildly from speaker to speaker, adding a disorienting psychedelic edge to the proceedings.
There's a certain degree of WTF? going on, but we're beginning to think these guys do actually have more in common with a group like Shit & Shine than The Heads, their focus on rhythm and texture, and achieving serious psychedelia by manipulating and sculpting the two.
There is of course a download code, which not only gets you the whole record in digital form, but also a FIFTY minute bonus track, recorded live, the band doing a similar set as to what's on the record, but a bit more rough edged and raw life, a little bit noisier and abstract, but channeling the same sort of electronic psych-kraut spirit.
Pressed on opaque gold vinyl, and as always extremely limited, so much so that this may very well be the only batch we'll be able to get!
Another in a long line of retarded metal records we absolutely love. It's getting a little ridiculous. At this point it's impossible for me to tell if something sucks, or if it's so ridiculous or so bad that it's absolutely genius. Allan doesn't really like this so much because he thinks it's a joke, but I prefer to believe that they are serious. DEADLY SERIOUS. Primitive, simple buzzing black metal in the vein of Bathory, Darkthrone, Beherit, but they have three things going for them.
They are called Goat Thrower.
The two band members are named The Mad Arab and Sabbatic Goat and are pictured on the cover in perfect HEAVY METAL magazine fantasy art.
And most importantly...
The vocals sound like the Chipmunks, or like they've been sucking down helium or something. Ridiculous chattering high pitched jabbering and wailing. So ridiculous it's inspired.
Folks who have been digging the crushing sludgedoom heaviness of Aussie doomlords Fire Witch would do well to check out the darkly dulcet tones of fellow Aussies Goat Witch. Two witches hmmm... Well, yeah, it seems that these two bands are related, sharing members, maybe even all the members, the sound is similar anyway, a glorious lurching slow motion doomic groove, spaced out and abstract.�
Downtuned riffs grind and throb, the drums are massive, recorded super hot, wild fills spattering the otherwise sprawling minimal crush. A bit of mathy chaos spilled out over an oozing black backdrop. Like the drummer for Hella playing in Khanate maybe.�
But this isn't pure doom, not at all, melodies lurk everywhere, and the busy drumming, and subtly clever riffing give the whole thing a serious post rock vibe, which is definitely a good thing here. Some of the build into extended, nearly cinematic crescendos, sounding like some noise rock doom drenched Godspeed, and others stretch way out and get all blissy and krautrocky, turning Goat Witch's doom into something more akin to Circle or Salvatore or Tortoise or even a heavy metal Necks, loping and repetitive and super hypnotic, epic and grandiose.�
Definitely one for the broad minded doomlords out there and would most certainly hit the spot for all the postrockmetalheads into Pelican and Isis and Conifer and Tides and other like minded combos...
After digging heavily on Australian doom merchants Fire Witch, we discovered the less heavy and more sprawling and post rocky Goat Witch, featuring some of the same members, whose Blind record was a huge hit around these parts.
So now we have another Goat Witch disc, called Live At Cumbersome Records, which appropriately enough was recorded live, and features an expanded line up of two drummers, three bass players and one guitarist, which includes ALL the members of Fire Witch as well as a bunch of other Aussie noisemakers.
Like Blind, this disc shrugs of much of the doom, treading into more Godspeed like waters, long sprawling slow building epics, where the drums offer up textures and filigree as often as actual beats. You think with three basses this would be a bloody sludgefest, but instead, the basses are subtle, woven into a shifting latticework of low end, allowing the guitar to drift and ring out, riffs floating above the thick swirling swells. Eventually the drums do kick in, but not in a crushing doom way, instead, the sound gets even more mathy and post rocky, the drums hyperkinetic, the guitars slippery and slithery, suddenly it's some krautrock spacerock hypno jam, relentless and hypnotic, eventually breaking down into some seriously dreamy drift, shifting streaks of guitars, muted tribal drumming, moody and smoldering, slow burning and ominous, thick cymbal swells, culminating in a tripped out mathy outro, all effected guitars throbbing basses. And that's just the opening 42 minute salvo.
The second track is almost like a dubbed out version of the first. Beginning with bits of scraped guitar, abstract bass drift, bursts of chaotic drum splatter, long stretches of near ambient shuffle, sometimes coalescing into almost Morricone sounding grooves, or tripped out mathy minimalism, getting pretty heavy toward the end, but not so much metal as thick swaths of spaced out psychrock, fluttering feedback, grinding bass lines, stuttering rhythms, finishing off with a brief burst of furious ultra tight riff rock, before stumbling to a halt.
Two tracks, 72 minutes. Heavy, dark, mathy, krauty, spacey. Folks who are gonna love this know who they are. You dig White Hills, Monster Magnet, Godspeed, Circle, Necks? Metallic post rock? Ambient drone doom? Mathy psychedelic krautrock? Yeah, we thought so...
Packaged in a cool mini DVD style sleeve, full color artwork and a full color insert.
A furious fifteen minute blast of unholy blackened war metal from France. Four tracks of grim chaotic lo-fi evil. Buzzing blasting brutality tempered by occasional midtempo dirges and old school thrash metal. Howled blasphemies and Burzumic buzz over galloping drums and swarming stun guitars. Only have a few of these so act fast!
Another blast of twisted black metal weirdness from Finland, from long time aQ faves, one man BM weirdo Dead Reptile Shrine, and fellow one man black metal outfit Goatmoon, who just happen to be finally making their aQ list debut.
And as you might have surmised, 'weird Finnish black metal', could very well mean that this is not at all like the black metal you're used to, and in this case you'd be right. Goatmoon, who in the past have shared a split with another aQ fave, the truly insane/brilliant Ride For Revenge (in fact, Mr. Goatmoon is a member of the RfR live band), offers up the nearly 25 minute title track, which is barely black metal at all, instead, the first 4 minutes is all acoustic guitar, draped over swirling winds, sounding a little like a Nordic Six Organs or something, that is until the guitars fade out, leaving just the wind, then some tribal drums, howling wolves, and then what sounds like some alien gypsy ritual, buzzing guitars that sound very Eastern, the percussion bells and shakers, the only real black element is the howled demonic vox, otherwise it sounds more like Amps For Christ, that is until that fades out, leaving just piano, a mournful lament drifting over that same whipping wind, then that distorted gypsy folk sounding buzz returns, this time with crooned clean vocals added to the mix, before everything fades out, leaving just a soft swirling expanse of melancholy synths, a meditative dronescape, haunting and dreamlike, drifting darkly though the ever blowing wind. So amazing, twisted and far out. Finland!
Which brings us to Dead Reptile Shrine, who like Goatmoon, confound and confuse, here offering up a thick swirl of hazy psychedelia, minimal percussion beneath a cloud of tangled looped buzz, a weird disembodied distorted voice buried in the mix, the sound tense, never quite offering release, instead, a continual crescendo, epic and majestic and gorgeously haunting, before giving way to the stripped down minimal stumble folk of the next track, reverbed notes drift over electronic buzz, the vocals a caveman grumble, before a second vocal swoops in strident and powerful, the track flecked with steel string guitars, atonal melodies, monstrous whispers, a creepy chunk of haunting black folk mesmer.
And so it goes, the sound definitely seems to exist in some warped abstract folk continuum, stumbling looped rhythms, distant fluttery flutes, detuned finger picking and fractured folk strum, eventually subsumed by some almost blackened buzz, and ridden by echo drenched sung/spoken vokills, the next track is about as close to proper black metal as DRS get, but as you might imagine that's not very close, with a black metal riff slowed way down and gradually unraveling, while various bits of percussion or shaken and rattled, and strange chant like croons swirl all around, until finally, DRS finish things off in a cloud of keening almost Skullflower like guitar, peppered with tiny bits of percussive glitch, thick low end rumbles, and a strange voice that almost sounds like he's speaking while breathing in, warped and weird, and pretty amazing in fact, a haunting, confusing bit of black ambient ritualism, and pretty much what we would expect (if one could really expect anything) from Dead Reptile Shrine.
Of course, unadventurous black metallers should steer clear, but everyone else, whether you dig anything weird and Finnish, or love blackened outsider folk, or twisted deconstructed folk flecked black metal or like us want ANYTHING from either of these bands, this comes HIGHly recommended.
One word for you. Eyehategod. Or is that three words? Anyway, it's pretty obvious that Goatsblood are gunning to take EHG's place as the reigning masters of slow motion doom/sludge. And Goatsblood seem to have a much better chance than most comers, as they don't just ape the dirges that have come before, they add all sorts of random detritus to the mix, short bursts of chaotic blast beats and total spastic freakouts, punishing grind, genuinely somber melodies, creepy ambience and one of the most caustic guitar tones ever, searing white hot, serrated, dripping acid and thick as a pool of week old blood. Think Eyehategod meets Brutal Truth meets Khanate. That good.
From UK label Rage of Achilles comes this Canadian blast of molten sludge. Crushing downer-core ala Eyehategod, squealing feedback, slow motion drumming (with the occasional grinding staccato blast beat) and howling midrange shrieks. Heavy as fuck.
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LA stoner/doom metal with former members of Wool, Scream, Engine Kid, The Obsessed... Well, whatever, is it any good? Well, there's a great, devastating song called "Raw Curtains" which, however, is also found on their recent split cd release with Burning Witch. And then they do a cover of Free's "Heartbreaker" that maybe wasn't such a good idea, although they do it well. Fans should dig this, though, as long as they don't mind getting "Raw Curtains" twice...
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"This is the record that Black Sabbath would have recorded if they were starting today" sez Man's Ruin & various parrot-like distributors. Well, I don't know about that! What nerve. If true, it's a good thing that Black Sabbath aren't starting today, 'cause this ain't no "Black Sabbath". Not that this is a bad record, in fact, for fans of the currently-burgeoning Sabbath-influenced school of stoner/doom rock/metal should be quite happy with this release. A supergroup of sorts, featuring ex-members of The Obsessed, Engine Kid, and Scream/Wool. Heavy, heavy, heavy, with a lot of rock groove and even some vaguely Ian Astbury-like vocals...
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Two of the LA doom metal scene's heaviest slug (and sludge) it out on this split release, with two songs each, of course played slow enough to make this a full-length! Goatsnake (featuring ex-members of The Obsessed and Engine Kid) even do a cover "Burial At Sea" by LA's godfathers of doom, the late great Saint Vitus. Sabbarific!!!
You can't go wrong with a 'goat' band name. Goat Horn, Lubricated Goat, Floating Goat, Lost Goat, Goatsnake, Goatsnake, Goatsblood, Goatlord, Goat Fire and of course Goat Thrower, so what if you just got rid of all that extraneous stuff, the throwing and the blood and the lubrication and got right down to it, the goat. Thus we have simply Goat, a one man American noise band who . So what if this Goat teamed up with one of our favorite masters of the apocalyptic dark ambient drone, Nordvargr? Well, then of course you'd end up with a creature known simply as Goatvargr, that sonically straddles the mysterious martial darkworld of Henrik Nordvargr Bjorkk and the harsh caustic brutality of Andy O' Sullivan (aka Goat).
Huge expanses of industrial creak and groan, blown out beats buried under piles of sonic debris, face melting bursts of acidic distortion and crumbling walls of guitar grind, distant martial beats stretched out over smears of black sound and buried desiccated vocals, squealing sheets of feedback and layer after layer of Merzbowian murk. This is most definitely a noise record, but Nordvargr injects enough of his subtle darkness and penchant for strange beatscapes to keep the proceedings appropriately damaged, dreary and darkly demented. Recommended for the iron eared with hearts of noise! Great stuff!
From the ashes of the cult New Orleans metal/rock band Acid Bath have come not one band, but two: the amazing & essential best-of-2000-for-sure Agents Of Oblivion with Dax and Mike, and now the much-more-metal assault of Goatwhore, featuring Acid Bath guitarist Sammy (and the tortured throat of fellow NOLA metallers Solient Green's Ben) who have taken the darkest, heaviest, ugliest elements of the mulitfaceted Acid Bath and gone fully grind. Evil blackness, definitely influenced by the spawn of Norway. Their name, and song titles like "Invert The Virgin" and "Perversions Of The Ancient Goat" will show you that they're leagues away from the Bowie/Cooper/classic rock sound of their sister band. Not the most original sound or concept, to be sure, and not the fastest or most brutal either, but as soldiers in Satan's army they are worthy.
By now you must realize we're total suckers for a ridiculous band name. Bathtub Shitter, Fuck, I'm Dead, Lurker Of Chalice, Goat Thrower, we could go one and on. But when faced with a band name like Goblin Cock. Well as far as we're concerned we're pretty much sold already. Then incorporate some classic fantasy art depicting a goblin, seated upon a throne, surrounded by fire, with his lengthy member protruding from his voluminous robes, like a sleeping serpent (and while we're at it, why not put a huge gold hoop through the tip?!), and then add some band photos, cloaked in mist, the band members be-robed skeletons, all crowded around and cradling a glowing metal skull. Okay, enough already! We love it. Well the surprising thing here, is that this is not in fact some crazy metal band, or some troop of weird metal ironists, no Goblin Cock is actually the latest group masterminded by Mr. Rob Crow, who you may know better as a member of Pinback, or Thingy, or Heavy Vegetable. And while this was purported to be Rob Crow's metal record (Heavy Metal Vegetable?), it's not all that far removed from the complex and off kilter pop we've come to expect. The guitars are definitely heavier, lots of distorted chug, and there's all sorts of metallic pounding drummage and plenty of very 'metal' moments, but the songs are still catchy, ridiculously so sometimes, and Rob's voice is killer as always, every song a twisted snarl of buzzing guitars, rich harmonies, strange arrangements and hooks galore, albeit wrapped snugly in leather and denim and spikes and blackened hoods! Probably not metal enough to get Goblin Cock a slot on Ozzfest, but just heavy enough to supply your indie rock collection with a much needed dose of heavy metal thunder. Sort of. And if you're not sold already, check this out:
http://www.wormwoodfilms.com/movies/goblin_cock_2.mpg
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Old/rare stuff from this Dutch death metal combo, whose later Metal Blade albums are all pretty good. Includes video clip.
After the four song Decline & Fall ep from earlier this year, legendary industrial metal duo Godflesh follow it up with their first full length in THIRTEEN YEARS, the first since 2001's Hymns, and like Decline & Fall, it's a total time machine trip, the band sounding pretty much as good as they did back in the day. All the elements are present, the robotic drum machine pummel, the crushing down tuned riffage, the thick rumbling bass, Justin Broadrick's throaty bellow. When we first heard about Godflesh's reformation and return, we were sort of expecting it to be more of a Godflesh lite, with some of Broadrick's other more poppy band Jesu finding its way into Godflesh's new sound. But that new sound is pretty much their old sound, and we're definitely not complaining. Other than the first couple Pitchshifter records, which were widely considered to be Godflesh ripoffs anyway, no other industrial metal band has managed to pull it off like these guys, creating epically tranced out mechanical metal mesmer, pounding, and churning, a bleakly psychedelic mechanoid doom, that at times had us thinking of modern, machine-making, one man doom band Author & Punisher, which makes sense since he no doubt owes pretty much his whole sound to Godflesh, but for folks late to the party, young 'uns who maybe missed out on Godflesh the first time around, and who have been digging stuff like A&P, this is the OG shit, or the OIM (original industrial metal?) shit.
And it's not just the sound, the songs too, long stretches of grinding riffage, give way to more spaced out psychedelic passages, cascades of minor key melody draped over stuttering drum machines, and undulating bass buzz, the vocals too, even occasionally slip into a more sort of monk-like chant before returning to that distinctive bark, the songs weirdly catchy, which is quite a feat for music like this, but for every atmospheric bit, every buried hook, every melodic moment, it's more than made up for by some seriously brutal metallic crush, flurries of pounding behemoth beats, and probably some of the most punishing, skull-caving, down-tuned distorto, industrial-doom riffage you've likely heard in a long, long time. Killer.
