Review Summary: Perennial descriptors warranted
Disinterred Horror feels like a relic of more than one era – the first being when this style of cavernous, doom-laced death metal was birthed by Incantation, another being the recent and pervasive attempts at resurrecting it en masse. Incantation worship, thanks to its own ubiquity, has fallen out of favour since we last heard something substantial from Ritual Necromancy, as practically every stylistic avenue within the niche has since been exhausted. Acutely aware of this, Ritual Necromancy have remained steadfast, studying the manuscripts of yesteryear and channelling the best of their inspirations into a visceral body of work. There is no sense of novelty, but that's not really the point;
Disinterred Horror shines simply by virtue of its creators' dedication to an aesthetic that is perhaps too quickly written off now.
As tends to be the case with the better exponents of “cavern-core”, what distinguishes the atmosphere of
Disinterred Horror from that of similar works is somewhat beyond words. Otherwise apt descriptors fail by way of their own redundancy. What exactly can be gleaned from terms like “austere” or “foreboding”¿ Not much, because though
Disinterred Horror's vibe is both of those things, it's also quite a bit more than the tripe also described as such. The rich sound palette bolsters the holistic experience, while the roomy mastering leaves the more delicate textures intact. Come shrieking background vocals, wailing auxiliary guitars or glints of feedback, each and every nuance manages to scythe its way past thunderous tremolo-picking and blast beats, often lingering in the periphery of your awareness.
Don't let the music's opacity fool you, however; Ritual Necromancy know their way around a composition, possessing a great sense of pacing to boot. The ante peaks with the brisk and chaotic “Command the Sigil”, gradually tapering off as “Cymbellum Eosphorous” ushers in the eponymous closer. Hooks compliment the album's overarching build, climax and cool-down pattern, with each track hinging on a memorable refrain that dispels any illusion of formlessness. However, even with this song-writing sense in mind,
Disinterred Horror still feels remarkably primal and off-the-cuff. Granted, I have no insight into the band's methods – whether they're meticulous in the studio, or content to waltz in with but the roughest idea of what to do – but I can at least bask in the unfettered results, imbued with the same charisma as acts of years gone by.
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