Review Summary: The soundtrack to a world razed and set aflame.
Világvége is not an album that attempts to convey a broad spectrum of emotions, so don't be led on by what immediately comes to mind when its various influences, such as black metal, sludge metal, or post-hardcore, are mentioned. It's not raw or emotional like a lot of black metal tends to be, nor is it an amalgam of leviathan, plodding riffs like those that are common in sludge metal. These genres may combine to serve as a framework for this latest monstrosity from Swiss metal collective
Rorcal, but the single emotion conveyed by
Világvége, both in its moments of foreboding drone and those of relentless tremolo riffs, is utterly nihilistic and apocalyptic furor. This is the soundtrack to a world being decimated: not the barren, desolate aftermath of the apocalypse nor the lengthy period of harrowing anticipation and foreboding that precedes it, but the literal act of humanity and the earth itself being torn apart. It's not a slow, suffocating Armageddon like that of mid-nineties
Neurosis or
Amenra's latest effort: rather, it's a rapid, chaotic, and excruciatingly violent destruction that
Rorcal have created with
Világvége. Even its seeming moments of respite, namely the drone doom-laden first and second tracks, are far from being things of peace. In reality, they are harbingers of the absolute chaos and furor of tracks like 'V', which specifically is notable for its absolutely brilliant opening riff. Closer 'VIII' in particular is an absolutely spectacular blend of everything that
Rorcal excel at, beginning with a section of violent black metal and ending with a lengthier period of meandering, drone-infused sludge that perfectly bookends the preceding forty minutes of apocalyptic malevolence, all layered with vocalist Cristophe's tortured, distant shrieks. The world has been razed, and none are left alive. Of course, this one-note emotional performance on
Világvége does mean that it is neither an easy listen nor a casual listen, but in the right setting, this album is matched by absolutely none in turning such violent despair into music, and that includes even
Rorcal's previous efforts. This is by no means to say that 2010's
Heliogabalus was not an absolutely harrowing and terrifying journey, but
Világvége matches that album's bleakness with an utterly destructive aggression, and this formula pays off in spades on what will undoubtedly prove to be one of the most unrelenting, desolate, hateful, and apocalyptic efforts of the year.
Világvége is the soundtrack to a world being razed and set aflame, and pure, malevolent violence has never tasted so sweet.
