- Summary: This is the second album of a black metal trilogy--the first was 777, Sects--from French one-man-band Vindsval.
- Record Label: Season of Mist
- Genre(s): Pop/Rock, Heavy Metal
- More Details and Credits »
Nov 23, 2011777 - The Desanctication leaves the band treading water, unable to escape onto dry, firm land... This leaves Blut Aus Nord in a funny situation: they are 2/3 of the way through a trilogy that has no character other than its egg-shell atmosphere – thin and prone to cracking with no solid musical base underneath to resist and hold the shell in place.
Positive: 1 out of 1
Mixed: 0 out of 1
Negative: 0 out of 1
Dec 15, 2011Blut Aus Nord is here with the second installment of its 777 trilogy. The cover art suggests hypnotic Illuminati connotations with many elements of the consorting symbol language being incapable to represent their meaning via their full efficiency. The All Seeing Eye now is a Yog-Sothothian slime-mess on top of the primordial Pyramid turned upside down, and there are, of course, reptiles, too. What about the guy on the top? The awakening of the proper Human Epitome, or "just" a drawing? No, there really is no such thing in existence as "just a drawing", and France's premiere industrial black metal act shows valiant will to break through human meta-calibration and touch upon the things that purposefully dwell beyond the epitome-hematoma of the "just" and the "is".
The anatomy of the compositional method herein is to create impressively massive-, well researched sonic landscapes that a cyberlich finally feels properly home and comfy at, and the spice on top of things to be witnessed is a strategy to bombard the listener's receptors with a cavalcade of biomechanical sonic entities parked all across the middle frequencies. The album has a more restless beginning and a gradual-, but deceitful tendency to witness decay tinker once it declared its rule set, giving you a sense of cynernetic sludge at the climax, which is quite rare to behold. It sounds like JUST the right music for Doom IV.
If you think you have endured more devastating of a strike before to your astral body then a French (look, me punned, totally!!) kiss from Chaos, then the album should exhibit propensity-evident to remap your consorting sentiments via scientific rigor and ruthless efficiency. Read on to find out more about this biomechanical-, transhumanic rewire device.
Blut Aus Nord's latest probably will reveal its intended full functionality intact and full-paua when the trilogy reaches its completion in 2012. Which, according to certain perspectives, also is the year that Noise Shaft readers will turn into transhumanic light beings. Pha. If you can travel out of-, and into any body you prefer to in order to enrich the existence-experience via free will, then it sounds good to me, amen to that.
This album-, while weighs in as industrial black metal on paper, shows much more interest in revealing more calmly-, but rather menacingly paced cybermeat-structures than to celebrate and resonate the classic mechanics of intensified black metal being on a tier of good old fashioned scythe-related rampage in the front row of 2389423423894239423423 skeletons.
This review now performs an illegal operation to submit to the blind potentiality of Chaos, - not that you and I ever had all that much other chance, anyway - and will start to scrutinize this delivery from track number 2. Track number 2, called Epitome VIII sounds to be one of the most slick contribution of the entire spin. It consists of multiple parts, each with superb respective qualities, and they all share a common denominator via their avid cultivation of the brutally intimate Chaos-experience.
The track starts out as an uncompromising piece of diligent insanity-worship, which is a very staggering thing to witness in meat space, because, insanity is the only thing that gets stronger if you choose to fight against it. It is so much more fun to witness it for entertainment purposes, only, so no one needs to get actually hurt, and afterwards/during you have the right to shape your related soul-content to look more beneficiary - or more terrible, I admire your work greatly, Mr. Montana! - on the bigger pictures. Epitome VIII seemingly shows only a momentary escape from the hideous grasp of pain-embodied via its midsection, accomplishing this feat by throwing in rather elegant riffcraft into a bottomless abyss of totally humorless, evil intentions. The riff IS intact, looks good and it rationalizes the notion that right THERE, right THEN it also is your only way out of that **** up place, but, thing is that you do not dare give hope for the riff at THAT moment. Surprise, surprise : once you are done chasing hope, it starts to chase YOU, instead. Hope is a woman. So real. The elegant cybernetic doom riff paves the sonic landscape to absolutely monstrous beautiful music, music that remains relentlessly abominated and uncompromisingly dainty in its character. You need to hear this one to get where it is coming from, because the music worth listening to is eluded by the stock words. (This is what I call good music review site marketing, too. < - sarcasm.) Track number 3, Epitome IX is a tender, shorter ambient delivery with no danger to encounter - except yourself.
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