This review was originally published in January of this year. Moribund Kingdom's forthcoming physical release via Trepanation Recordings, however, is an occasion worthy of republication. Since the time of writing, my appreciation of this album has only grown, and it remains a frequent companion in the many, many times throughout the day where more extreme music simply won't do. Pre-order here! - Ed.
Written by: The Administrator
If you, much like the ravens lurking outside our drafty scriptorium, are on the hunt for something new and shiny, I'm happy to present an alternative from our standard fare. Today on the docket: a healthy platter of horror-tinged gothic dungeon synth, conjured from the mind behind the (equally stellar) Order of the Wolf. In this newfound context outside the underground black metal sphere, he goes by Spectral Child. Moribund Kingdom is the first haunted creation of this alter ego.
I like to think of Spectral Child's Moribund Kingdom as an alternate soundtrack to the horror-themed action games that (only partially, I swear) defined my adolescence. While it certainly isn't a sonic match to, say, the grossly high-octane riffage of the equally high-octane Painkiller series, the mood is similar. Consistently menacing, in a word. Frightening in a sincere sense--like if the more intense moments of the soundtrack to Amnesia were distilled and reproduced in synth-based form. That comparison, again, is a bit of a stretch, but the fact remains: there is something about Spectral Child that feels intrinsically attached to the world of video games wherein a lone protagonist braves a world designed exclusively to confound and cause harm.
Welcome to the first Review Off (of hopefully many!) The premise? The illustrious Metalhead World and yours truly get down and throw down in an epic review battle. My contribution lurks below, and you can read Metalhead World's review here. Enjoy! - Ed.
Written by: The Administrator
We slumbering peasantry are of a significantly, erm, flimsier stock than those marauders over at Metalhead World. Perhaps to our own detriment, we are also a prideful crowd. Such is the lot with wordsmiths. As such, when our neighbors issued the challenge to write a review of I Disagree, the latest statement from self-acclaimed post-genre messiah Poppy, we could hardly back down from a fight. And so here we are, quill and parchment held tight in white-knuckled grasp. In the distance, a murder of ravens takes flight. Sweat drips under ill-fitting plate armor. Blood will be shed this day, and I pray ‘tis not mine.
...but if today results in slaughter, the victim won’t be the artist in question. Quite the contrary. At the beginning of this process, I was familiar enough with Poppy via one Lichtmensch, but was certainly not what one might consider a fan. Now, however, after several weeks of intensive immersion, I Disagree has found solid footing in the ranks of my favorite albums of the year. Credibility be damned! Long story short: if you’re expecting a takedown, look elsewhere. This is a very good album by a variety of rubrics, and Poppy’s contributions are far too substantial to be merely dismissed.
Written by: Lichtmensch, Loveloth, and Ancient Hand
"But wait!" the haters said, sweating feverishly. "This is a metal review site! Get this pop crap out of here!" Needless to say, said haters are now....disposed of, and the Village is significantly quieter for it. Miss Anthropocene an album many of our writers enjoyed, and it is also hardly a stretch to justify Grimes' latest iteration as "heavy." On her long-awaited followup to 2015's revered Art Angels, Grimes pushes pop to a dark and ethereal place. Utilizing a healthy blend of sounds and genre aesthetics, Miss Anthropocene decries stagnation.
The Sleeping Village's cabal of scribes is a multifaceted lot, and when a Grimes review was proposed, three unique individuals--Lichstman, Loveloth, and Ancient Hand--were all excited to put in their two cents regarding Miss Anthropocene. In cases like these, where a frank and friendly discussion between friends seems more productive than a bunch of separate reviews, we break out a rare but ancient form of communication: the conversation. So, here it is: the long-belated followup edition of Twofold Treatise-- but, in this case, we're not dealing with two slumbering critics, but rather three. Hence: Threefold Treatise.
We provide thoughtful reviews of music that is heavy, gloomy...and loud enough to wake us from slumber. Written by a highfalutin peasantry!