In what must come as a bit of a shock, I enjoy (and indeed seek out) music that feels fresh, and unusual, and patently weird. Given this proclivity, a premiere request from Euphoriadic Studios hitting the inbox inevitably bodes well. I'm comfortable stating that today's artist in question offers a potent blend wholly unlike anything I've ever heard before, and that alone is enough to get the ol' heart a-pounding. Listening to a bat eating her wings by New Jersey's own short term memory loss is a jarring and electrifying experience. Needless to say, we are excited and honored to present said experience to our unexpecting readership.
But. Before I vomit forth a grotesque collection of adjectives and scare you all away, please give a bat eating her wings a well-deserved listen below. As always, we'll meet ye on the other side!
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Written by: The Administrator
Blackened industrial doom metal isn't a sonic environ this particular scribe frequents with regularity. Sometimes, however, one feels the urge to conquer the unknown and descend directly into the bowels of the underworld. And so here we are, amongst the brimstone and the inferno, with Son of Seth assuming the role of psychopomp as we meander ever downwards. While genre labels are easy to throw around, what Son of Seth actually sounds like is a remarkably ever-evolving affair across the 26 minutes constituting De Dor A Odio. Intro track "Tortured Sight" begins with some noise-ridden atmospherics, an ominous and cinematic soundscape that is pulled apart by the thunderous arrival of what I can only imagine as a behemothian kaiju. And then it’s off to the races as the tortured vox emerge from the fray. While carrying themselves with a certain blackened bite, the vocal delivery reminds me more of something dredged from the world of harsh noise--add some overt pitch modulation, and you've got a mechanical vibe akin to something from Marijuana Deathsquads. But make no mistake: this is a calculatedly spooky affair, heavy on the atmosphere and bituminous ambience. The industrial influences shine through, resulting in an organically mechanized soundscape that practically begs for accompanying HR Giger illustration.
This year, in an attempt to cover more music that would all-too-oft slip through the very large cracks, we're trying something new and novel around these parts. Namely, we're gonna actually publish the little one-off reviews that were previously (and arbitrarily) deemed too short for publication. In that spirit, here's a mini-review of a debut EP that deserves a little attention. Without further ado:
Written by: The Administrator
Industrial metal seldom breaches our shoddy defenses here at the Sleeping Village. That's not, I must note, because we doesn't enjoy the genre, but rather because we very rarely see review requests from bands flying the industrial banner. A real damn shame. Melbourne's own Knife, however, proudly exude the grinding, percussive, mechanical, and pulsating 90's-era aggression of acts such as Nailbomb and the seemingly immortal GodFlesh. Notably, they infuse the five tracks contained within Wound's confines with a distinctly crusty vibe and highly emotive discernible-but-visceral harsh vocals. There's a tangible fury and sense of forward momentum across the breadth, and the instrumentation itself avoids stagnation by indulging in a bone-crunching breakdown from time to time. Look to "Sinners" as a prime example of both extremes. As such, Knife successfully avoid feeling dated...while simultaneously recalling a distinct aesthetic era of industrial music. If you're looking to sample, mighty closer "Warmonger" is my favorite individual track, but realistically, the whole thing is A. quite short and B. definitely worth yer while. Wound is a brief but intense intro to this duo's sound, and while it is unfortunately over swiftly, it serves as an excellent appetizer. |
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