The number 13, unlucky for some, a portend of doom, of sign of bad things to come. For Only Death Is Real the number 13 brings a handful of releases that range from electronic beats to deeply religious texts to raw black metal and dungeon synth. The number 13 is lucky for you.
Mother of Sighs – Mother Of Sighs (Deathbomb Arc)
Music is most often an outlet, a place to quiet the voices in your head and a place to find solace. For some it is a place to exorcise inner demons and to put together thoughts and emotions that seem bigger than themselves. For artists it can be a place to organise their distress or their hope and for Mother Of Sighs, it is all of these things and more. The text that accompanies the album on Bandcamp is brimming with honesty and feelings that many have experienced —the loneliness and fear of loss and the desolation that comes along with it.
Erica Burgner-Hannum (The Holy Circle) and Terence Hannum (Locrian, The Holy Circle, Axebreaker) render their pain through electronic impulses and heady cries, Erica’s devastation forming the basis of an album that feels necessary for growth. Mother of Sighs is darkness absolute and the beats that underpin the album creep and crawl beneath affected vocals that usher in tangible moments of sorrow. Utilising the claustrophobic tones of synthesisers and drum machines, Mother of Sighs pushes for an atmosphere of dread and foreboding and finds it in the distressing cadence of “Dysthymia” and the curious spoken word improvisation of “Anxia Corda” which is as anxiety inducing as the title suggest.
Mother of Sighs is not an easy listen and is oftentimes so brutally honest about its themes that it is difficult to continue but it seems as though that is the aim of this project, to dive into those currents and to find the path through the darkness.
Old Nick – Iam Vampire Castle (Grime Stone Records)
There must be something in the water over at Grime Stone Records HQ as Old Nick release another album of fun, interesting, completely over the top black metal. Iam Vampire Castle is absolutely ridiculous at times – check that operatic vocal line in the title track – and it is so deliciously overblown that it becomes genius. Old Nick are clearly having a lot of fun making music and the fact that it’s actually good? Nay, great - sign me up for more.
Abysmal Specter is behind both the label and the band and as Old Nick have progressed, so has Specter’s recording skills. Where instruments would previously blend together to create an overwhelming, yet charming, lofi sound, the band have become more adept at teasing out clearer lines so that the synths of “Blood Blood Blood Blood Blood!!!!!” can push the melody more cleanly while the guitars of Sentancer are able to be heard over the drums of “Vampyric Witch Ghost” as the separation is now more obvious. Where A New Generation of Vampiric Conspiracies from earlier this year was a longer effort, [i Iam Vampire Castle[/i] is a more precise, to the point album that dives straight for devilishly catchy rhythms that will be stuck on a loop for days after first hearing them.
“Sad Vampire” is one such track as it begins on a jaunty synth line that is overlaid with Absymal Specter’s harsh, throaty rasps and as a sly melody weaves its way through the song, Old Nick once again show that they are the masters of this style of black metal. It’s underground and raw but on the other end of the scale to those who daub themselves in corpse paint and take pictures in the forest - both are representative of the scene in 2021 and both mean something to those who take part. Old Nick are just having way more obvious fun with it and that is something that we need in this modern age - "Ceaseless Spiral Staircase" will teach you that lesson in under six minutes.
Reverorum ib Malacht– Not Here (Rubeus Obex)
Not Here is an album of extremes. The mechanical drums, the religious texts, the terrifying voices that seep from the walls of sound as the punishing force with which Reverorum ib Malacht channel their music comes to fruition. The band are twisting black metal on its axis with music that is deeply religious, sacred, even, as their Roman Catholic beliefs are rooted in their sound and a genre which is often seen to be anti-religion, is used to great effect as the Swedish band communicate with the spiritual world through fascinating structures of sound.
Released simultaneously with Svag i Döden (The Ajna Offensive), Not Here is more a personal favourite of the two, hence only its inclusion here. It is overwhelming at times as the sounds layer and build upon one another with no regard for peace or for melody. Voices are entwined with inhuman drum patterns and range from echoing rasps to more choral, ecclesiastical chants which bring about a sermonising atmosphere. Sampled Latin speech is added to create an ever increasing unsettling feeling around opening track “Amen,” as the band twist the core of black metal into a new, powerful beast.
The industrial impulses of “God Is” are riven with grotesque off-kilter elements that push the song outside of any known comfort zone – if this is God then do we want to know Him? There is no sign of beauty here, just a vast landscape of overlapping sounds and relentless beats of a machine that knows no end. Voices echo into the darkness, fading in and out of view, building themselves up before disappearing into the ether once more, to become ghosts lost to time. “No Death” is structurally obtuse as the song moves in waves of pulsating beats and choral vocal patterns before giving way to deep, mechanical strikes as it becomes clear that Reverorum ib Malacht are operating on another plane of existence with a reality that only they have come to know. They allow us only the smallest glimpses of the horrors that lie there for we are not ready to learn the truth.
Trhä - endlhëtonëg (Self-Released)
Not much is known about the entity behind Trhä – the band is of obscured origin, the language used to name albums and songs and the lyrics that accompany them is alien in form and only known to the being called Thét Älëf who makes up the entirety of Trhä, and music is released with little fanfare. Where Trhä comes from is a mystery but what is clear is that endlhëtonëg is a work ravaged with emotion and melancholy. “lhaja endlhëjëdahhe nu jahadlhjanva gjëri ha” opens the album and with it comes delicate melodies that will reoccur throughout the record to take you back and bring the music full circle. The voice that narrates the music is slightly hidden behind the instrumentation and where the production is rough and rustic, the atmosphere it produces is one of warm sadness, like a blanket of sorrow that wraps you in its heavy cloth in order to bring calm in moments of anxiety. It’s a curious feeling to have, one of comforting pain, but it helps to know that you are not alone. Trhä feels it too.
“endlhëdëhaj” and its bright motifs coloured with sounds of ringing bells is bizarrely euphoric in its pacing as Thét Älëf creates an aura of sanctuary in their walls of sound — the faster moments are exciting without pushing the adrenaline while the softer passages are a welcome respite from the outside intensity. As the song draws to its close and the tempo shifts down further, we explore subtle ambient movements that creates light and shade in its gentle sway. That subdued palette follows into “endlhëturhën” as the song is laid out to incorporate the resonant peal of bells as though calling the congregation to the pews. The song doesn’t stray far from this path as it subtly inserts bittersweet synth lines into the spaces left behind the rich chimes yet this pause for breath allows for Trhä to maximise the catharsis found in final song “endlhëtonëg.”
Deep drones move against higher toned synths as a mournful aura is summoned by Thét Älëf on this monumental ending to the album. At just under twenty-five minutes, “endlhëtonëg” could be seen as too much, however, there is variation and change as the song moves towards its climax and as previously mentioned, small hints of previously heard motifs allow for reflection into the past and the self. Trhä’s coarse vocal lines are still set back in the mix which makes for an eerie, ethereal atmosphere that coalesces to radiant pain as the song pushes towards the finale. There is release and relief to be found in “endlhëtonëg” as it illuminates the darkness with fiery anguish, exploding out from within as the song peaks in screams and guitars.
endlhëtonëg is the sound of an artist creating music that speaks to their very soul and their personal despair and Trhä feels very special indeed. The halfway point marks a time of calm as a serene mood settles over the song and gives Thét Älëf a chance to let their voice be almost the only sound heard. Here, abject grief is displayed with stark clarity and honesty as Thét Älëf’s screams echo into the caverns of despair. Reverberating bells come back to haunt the progression as Trhä makes their way out into the blinding light that their suffering has created. It is luminous in its agony, white hot to the touch and tangibly present. As the voice changes to a gorgeous, choral approach there is a clear feeling of release as that pain emanates from the body and ascends to the heavens. As the bells toll to signal the end, a breath can finally be taken. Is this the conclusion that was sought or is this the outcome that was deserved? Only Trhä can answer that.
