Album Rating: 3.0
Our lyrics will never be made available. In sentiment, Anaal Nathrakh is an expression of the blackest part of our psyches. I have none of the pretensions of people like Dead, the guy from Mayhem who killed himself. He seemed to think he was some sort of non-human creature inhabiting this planet by mistake or something. I'd put it more like Anaal Nathrakh displays a certain viewpoint, a very disturbed one, but a viewpoint nonetheless; it's an outlet for it -- it runs as follows: mankind is the source of some of the most ridiculous stupidity, the most unadulterated deceit and barbarism imaginable. Surely there is plenty to be less than happy with there. Civilisation has, despite its achievements, produced types of people that make me feel physically sick with their pettiness, their arrogance, their blindness, their lack of scope. If the human condition is one of being eternally confronted with the philosophical "other", and being made to continually feel disgust, if existence is synonymous with an ever present repulsion and hatred for the "life" that seethes everywhere before us like some tumour, does it really come as a surprise that some people should feel less than happy about this world? No master/slave dialectics, no self affirmation implied by the act of killing, just repulsion and a desire to be rid of presentations of "life". Even further, despite already to a greater or lesser extent wallowing in its own repugnance, mankind amounts to a disaster waiting to happen. A race of idiots, fucking idiots, that invents moralities and religions to defend inbred prejudices that it doesn't even perceive, let alone understand, and to divert attention from the fact that it feels incapable of existing on its own justification. And further than this, that were it to be capable of existing on its own as some members of the species seem to be, it would still be totally incapable of a single truly, radically original thought. It's not hard to see how extreme misanthropy would result from a viewpoint like that. However, there's a sick enjoyment taken in bathing in the shit. A perverse medium is struck between out and out hatred for your fellow man and revelling in the filth, like taking joy in a horrible disease. I would go on, but I tend to get carried away. Maybe it sounds a bit of an insane perspective, but so be it.
lol
pretty long answer for one question
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