Review Summary: Grace and calamity.
The bleak synths that start this record are dreary and foreboding, casting a sour misery upon a dark forest. They swell and build, until abruptly leading to a treble heavy onslaught of fast paced drumming, indecipherable tremolo picks, and pained screams to the depths of the night. Behind this, the dark drones continue to color the trees in shades of black and gray, their simplistic, harrowing bitterness contrasting heavily from the collage of abrasive distortion, built from what sounds to be pure, unadulterated agony. These surreal recordings blend together, creating a mass of noise, one that sounds like a strange instrument itself, creating songs that become closer to noise than black metal. Songs like “Grålysning” and “Hatefulle Tanker ut i Natten” feature intimidating guitar tones and feedback, which feel larger than life itself and create dynamic dissonance when backed by the forlorn synthetic melodies. In other instances, like on “Fra Kilden til Tjernet” and the frightening “Bak to Lysende Øyne,” the record is sharp and heavily warped, with instruments melding into one source of dismaying clamor.
These multitudes of dark sound start to layer over each other, conjuring bitter beauties and violent cataclysm, somehow managing both these evocations in a mysterious and frightening way. Harsh and tumultuous uproars sound from the recordings, as subtle melodies cast themselves behind the decaying amalgamation of loose, frantic instrumentation. The surreal, free-flowing compositions use the stark differences in slow, looming fear and abrasive, harsh terror. On a track like “Sønn av Skyggers Skygge,” the once all encompassing music is corrupted to the point of sounding like a rainstorm, where the the slow burning atmosphere builds until the point of intense caterwauls. This culminates into the closer, “Fjellstev,” where a hazy melody builds and encompasses the ambiance in a desolate allurement. Folkloric Necro Metal
, from the beginning, has built to this last moment of untamed nature, flowing before no one but the trees in this most abandoned of forests, its grace forever unknown.