Review Summary: Just like a foreboding forest, ...From The Pagan Vastlands is ominous, dense, dark, and sinister. Meaning it's everything black metal should be.
The dark and brooding forest awaits you. The sky is only vaguely lit by the light of stars and a gray moon. You can barely make out the charcoal-shaded trees that await, eager to envelop around you. The cold wind blows around you, freezing you to your core and making the leaves and twigs tremble, as if they are afraid of what awaits them as well. Unfortunately, you cannot shake the feeling of anxiety that is fueled by the monolith of nature's crippling and dangerous majesty. One can not blame you though, as the unknown can make even the strongest of men quake in their boots, as if they are one of these light trees that frantically sways in the wind. You cannot stand here and wonder what awaits all night, as you feel compelled to enter these most threatening of woods. Although the reason is not clear to you, you know you must. Every fiber of your body knows that you must enter the forest and become one with the consuming, inky-black darkness.
The fog blocks out most of the light, leaving you stumbling in the dark, amongst these unforgiving trees, but you can just barely make your way. After quite sometime of aimlessly wandering, you find what you were looking for, even if you didn't realize it was what you were trying to find. You hear the sound of a strong gust of wind and the introduction of guitars, one preforming a heavy riff and a simple acoustic guitar strum. From then, you listen to the beautifully sinister sounds that fill the mighty trees with the sounds of true evil.
This is not what you were expecting to find. Nor is it what you were afraid of encountering, but it is peculiar There was no way to tell where this soundtrack is coming from, but you are more compelled than scared. What is it that attracts you so much" Is it the hectic nature of the songs" Is it the blood-curdling screams that sound as if a man is letting out his final shouts in his last moments" Is it the intensity of the drumming, which shakes and moves you to your very core" Or is it the shredding guitars that contrast the atmospheric elements" Whatever it is, it is gripping. No matter what part of you wants to leave this horribly frightening place, you cannot turn your back, as the sounds are too enthralling.
It is not clear where the songs begin and end, but they flow in a way that makes it feel like one large cohesive experience. You sit there and you wonder how long you have been listening. You could have sworn that it has been hours of hearing the ambiguous music, but, in reality, this event only takes place over the span of around thirty five minutes. The crows are fluttering about, as if foreshadowing some grave event, and filthy insects, the kinds of which would make most people revolt, are crawling all around your arms and legs. The thing is, you don't notice, as the thrill of the chaotic music has fully hypnotized you to the point of being one with the songs. The progression is fast and the sounds are dense and thick, surrounding you with the music of possibly Satan himself. A part of you knows you should be worried where the music is coming from, but you are too distracted to give it a second thought.
But the final song ends and you sit there contemplating what has just transpired. The events that have made themselves apparent to you in the form of this aggressive and insane music like you have never experienced before in your life. Reality comes back slowly and consciousness flows over you like a waterfall You realize where you are. You are horrified by what just happened and you run back to civilization before anything else catches you by surprise.
As you are brushing off grass, insects, and God knows what else, you think back to what happened back there. You think back to the sense of atmosphere created that perfectly fit the woods that you were caught in. You also think back to how every element truly fell into place. Mostly, you think about how dangerous and exciting it was. You want to experience it again, but, when you go back the next night, all is silent, excluding the crows, crickets, and strong gusts of wind that blow against the dark, sturdy trees. The petrifying songs do not come back, and they never do. You will always remember them, and you are dedicated to replicating the music you heard that night.
You accept that you will never find out where the music came from. You will never know it was carried away...
...from The Pagan Vastlands.