Abigail Williams – “The Accuser” • Candlelight
Oh, fuck. Entropy. The kind of black metal who infuses melted crystals in its own veins. Pain & Void smearing helplessness in fishless seas, anonymously invoking winds to take part in this rotten feast. Post-daylight, post-solemnities, a malignant tone of beige fuming from an unholy chrism, think Nachtmystium, think USBM, thank Charlie Fell.
Birds In Row – “Personal War” • Deathwish Inc.
Oh, sweet love, tell me old stories of old longings. A warm, embroided apparatus of lost passions and dearest friends who have gone mad flattered by the bosom of time – where are they now? I miss them. I miss you, sweet Catarina. Have you married someone who can carry his own particular anguish in his own refracted shadow? A personal shadow. A personal war. I’ve architected a thing where you could coax the world, but I then swallowed the key.
Black Chamber Suicide – “Black Chamber Suicide” • Defiled Light
Ambient – Drone
Clouds. Close all your programs, stop the bickering, leave your luggage on the floor, gaze the ceiling, liquidate your closest friends just like the voice in your head tells you, you – are – villainous, hyper-violent, embellish that basement with their bones and my stripes, write a handbook, you – are – atemporal… … .. .
Dreamcrusher – “Hackers Them All Hackers” • Fire Talk // EP
Noise – Electronics
There’s a subtle weirdness in this. Did I say subtle? Pardon me, the weirdness is far from subtle, it is bold, noise-fueled, violent, call it fucking harsh noise if you want, or don’t call it anything. Listen. Drop your arms, stop fighting, let the abstract move you, slice you, tear you into tidbits of blood. There’s a couple of bandages for you in that drawer, antiseptic too. You hurt, kind toddler, you hurt? Oh, poor little boy, come to papa.
Hooded Menace – “Darkness Drips Forth” • Relapse
Sleep paralysis; a demon is sitting on your chest, menacing you, grinning, that son of bitch. Henry Fuseli is watching the whole scenario from a 10-metre distance, portraying it as some sort of otherworldly naturalism, manipulating it on an oil canvas as if you are nothing but a utilitarian art piece. How does it feel to be left to die while being immortalized as an art subject? Elope with darkness with Hooded Menace.
Pinkish Black – “Bottom Of The Morning” • Relapse
Post-punk – Synth
There’s this cadence in every bit of us, pumping, ascending, then descending, flourishing, throbbing, a beating foliage. Pinkish Black acknowledge the beat, post-punking, synthetizing, flaming its own bladder with goth smoke and salting noise. Arrhythmic emissions for the unrested.
Satan’s Satyrs – “Don’t Deliver Us” • Bad Omen
Heavy – Doom – Punk
70s smell funny… smell like… hash. Leather. Beer. Amps. Beer. Leather sailors, luscious maidens, beer bottles sharing molecules of heat, staggering basslines powered by strokes of a specific green odor. 70s smell like Pentagram and long-haired demons on motorcycles.
Sofy Major – “Waste” • Solar Flare
Riffs trembling – therefore I’m a happy human being. Adapt your cogito ergo sum to what the fuck you want really, my pointillistic existence gets its sense, its nexus, its positive signaling when there noise-meets-loud-narrative. “Waste” is eligible for that, with Helmet ethics and an Unsane brochure for you to read, mate. Dave Curran‘s seal of approval
Tropic Of Cancer – “Stop Suffering” – Blackest Ever Black // EP
Darkwave – Electronics
Atmosphere is a shallow word, an empty reference to an abstract sensation of enliving; kenosis if you might. You empty yourself to become this thing, this atmosphere, this medallion of unrealness, an abduction wriggling anxiety and hope at the very same time. How does that work, uh? Camella Lobo knows the mechanics, the oddness to all that, she adjusts music to your pulse and then…
Under The Church – “Rabid Armaggedon” – Pulverised
Swedish Death Metal
I’m naked, oblong naked, re-rendering my own testicles with displease. Brimming fury is what represents such an energy-draining task. Re-contemplating death metal whilst doing it, Swedish death metal specifically, because tailoring Entombed in a blithely but dedicated way is what Under The Church know best. Body degradation until death vacuums us all, brother.