LXXXVII contains 44 minutes of ritualistic, droning doom. This is not music for those with a frail constitution. Continue reading
When an album is just three tracks and yet spans over an hour of material, you know you’re in for some properly slow doom dirges. Continue reading
Holy shit. Okay, that could be my entire review, really. Holy. Shit.
I suppose I should write a bit more though, here goes.
So, it starts off with a sample, some feedback and some slowly-added in noises. Immediately an unsettling atmosphere is created which is maintained throughout in one form or another. Shudder.
Then, all of a sudden, it’s as if all Hell’s daemons are unleashed, as twisted pain-filled screams and maniacal percussion are unleashed on you in a barrage of chaotic frenzy. It’s not pretty, but it certainly is engaging.
Coming across as a depraved mix of Atomsmasher, Khanate and Venowl, Uboa effectively spends these 23 minutes creating a horror-filled semi-organic nightmarescape that defies conventional music in favour of pure mood and feeling, seemingly dredged up from the abyss.
Birthed raw as a twisted combination of sparse Doom and eclectic noise, this is surprisingly enjoyable music, although I suppose I should point out that to most people neither the words enjoyable nor music would seem to apply here. Their loss. This wall of anguished sound hits the right spot with me, and that’s all that matters.
There’s a tense undercurrent to all of this that I find quite tasty; I always like music that uses tension well and on Coma Wall there’s no let up until the final dying sounds have disappeared into oblivion. During the latter part of the track the mayhem subsides, but the tension does not, and just when you think it’s settling slowly into a dying ambience, it gets heavy, sludgy and apocalyptic.
Phew! Very nice. Or nasty. Whatever. Either way, after 23 minutes I’m raring to go and listen to this again.
For true Doom/Noise connoisseurs only; check this one out if you dare.
Cara Neir are up first with three tracks lasting just under 12 minutes. Theirs is a direct assault that strips the flesh from bone and mutilates with extreme savagery.
Brutal riffs and Blackened melodies are powered by a Crusty assault that leaves the listener battered.
Sharp vocals eat away like acid as the singer attempts to claw his way through your ears and into the meaty goodness within.
They’re no one-trick pony however, as Cara Neir have shown throughout their prolific back catalogue. Even here on their short contribution to this split they show a good amount of variety.
Aeonian Temple is anger personified, Nights… is Shoegaze/Post-Metal in the style of Sun Devoured Earth and Pitiful Human Bindings, which is also the longest song, comes off like lo-fi Black Metal with a corrupted aura and a rabid bite.
Venowl have not long released their début album Patterns of Failure and with that success in mind we turn to them. They contribute only one track to this split. It’s called Scour (Parts I and II), it’s almost 22 minutes long and it is an ode to gradually inflicted and long, drawn-out pain. At least, that’s what it sounds like to me.
Venowl play slow. Except when they play even slower. It’s filthy, unhealthy, dangerous and barbed. It’s everything you love about unhinged, caustic Doom.
The track largely defies description except to possibly detail the descending layers of Hell and the accumulated millennia of torment and suffering that has accreted there.
Here we have two very different bands that manage to complement each other perfectly. I think you should do yourself a favour and get hold of this split. Darkness and misery never sounded so underground or so good.
Patterns of Failure is like that rickety, shambling, deathless corpse that follows you in your dreams; slowly and surely crawling closer and closer with horror in its eyes. You know the one.
There is a supreme haunting terror at the core of Venowl and I’m not sure I want to know what they do to get it all riled up like this. The howling vocalisations in particular are terrifying in their abandon and make the average “scary band” sound tame and lovable by comparison.
The songs themselves are slow and covered in rust and grime. They give the impression of something being left out in the rain and exposed to the elements for far too long.
The simplest reference point is Khanate, although whereas Khanate made a corrupted virtue of minimalism Venowl have more meat on their bones; Khanate worked with the spaces between the sounds they created whilst Venowl fill every space with a dire sense of dread and ill.
This is the kind of epically dismal and barren Doom that blackens the heart and freezes the veins. There’s no light here just differing shades of darkness and unrelenting negativity.
Venowl have produced a marathon of filth. It’s time to start running, the deathless corpse approaches once more.