At the Heart of Winter - Frostbitten Black Metal and an Underground Excursion

Welcome to the Polar Vortex, the freeznado of weather anomalies. Heaped upon the deep chilled earth lay the cryogenic dead, waiting to suck out the warmth of the living. Lots of weak poseurs are crying about the weather lately, but not here at the Jenkabala Winter Palace . When the sub-arctic comes to our doorstep, we break out the blizzard blitz of ultra cold black metal and eat ice cream sandwiches made of babies and kittens. We don't cry about nothin', unless there are tears of blood to be shed.

First up, Immortal's frozen classic At The Heart of Winter got the evening off in the right way. This is one of Immortal's finest hours, a mighty frost blast of hyper riffs made of jagged ice crystals. Ok, I'm running out of cheap winter imagery, so I'll stop. With this album, Immortal upped the production values and added a more death metal like riff attack. No longer content with mere blasting noise, there is a degree of dynamics not previously seen on previous albums. The songs are more complex, and there is an element of clean guitars added at various intervals. The songs gallop, blast, occasionally crawl, but always destroy with maximum fuck force.  This album is a certified black metal classic and is the unanimous winner of the fuckin' night.

 Into the Necro Lands Part 4.1 - Solarfall

Computer screens were glowing, providing the only illumination in the underground room. Long consoles, full of blinking lights and monitor displays tinted the air red and green while cloaked figures whose faces were covered by smooth reflective masks typed and calculated, oblivious to our presence. Tesa, Birdblood, Losi, Bloodmace and I were lying where we had fallen into this room from the frozen lake above. "My people, as you may know, relied heavily on biotechnology during our reign as kings of Centon." Chanthoth had donned his long green robe and spoke to us as, one by one, we began to stand. "As you can see, I have reactivated this command post and grown some

humanoids to labor for me. Slowly, I will reopen the transport roots that run the length of Centon." Bloodmace, studying one of the consoles, turned to Canthoth, "Yes, that would certinaly be helpful for shghtseeing. Perhaps you long to glimpse the world before your cycle ends, or maybe you have visions of marching a humanoid army upon this realm while all on the surface are fighting one another?" A sly smile crosses the face of the weird wizard as he criosses the room and punches some buttons on one of the control surfaces, "As you can see," He says, pointing to the largest monitor on the wall, "The forces of Necro Baby and Iron James are closing in on you above. I would hate to be forced to eject you from this sanctuary and into their hands. Do we understand one another?" On the screen, we can see a mass of undead troops scouring the area, along with the horrid deadcats and their boar-faced keepers. "You have been a friend to us in the past Chanthoth, and we wish only to hear your words." The calmness and confidence in my voice startled me. I had never been well spoken in times of crisis and even now my heart raced at the thought of a battle with the forces of black magic that sought us above, "You already know the place we seek passage to, so tell us, can you aid our quest?" The robed mystic turns with a chuckle and calls out to us as he strides through a secret passage that opens behind him with a hiss of air, "But of course, my friends. Follow me, there is someone here who can help you better than I."

 If you name your band Grim Funeral, then perhaps you may be setting yourself up for caricature and self parody. But the band's 2008 debut Grim Funeral To The Soul Of This World, is a satisfying nugget of necrotic black metal. The Catalonian one man band  is dank, depressive, caustic, and bleak; sounding like every other dank, depressive, caustic, bleak one man black metal band, except that the songwriting is competent, and the performance compelling. It manages to capture a singular atmosphere, an anomaly in the event horizon of evil. I recommend this fist fuck for discriminating tastes.

 Into the Necro Lands Part 4.2 - Incantation of He Who Sleeps

Bloodmace and I had seen some of the wonders of the T'Chah Karnac's mastery at the art of blending together biotechnology and black magic when we met Chanthoth after our resurrection on Mount Tarvo, so the transport root did not surprise us, though it was impressive. The root system was

something of a living highway, growing deep underground. From inside this tremendous organism, the T'chah Karnac could traverse the length and breadth of Centon without fear of detection. Created in their secret labs, the plant responded to a combination of electronic signals from the microprocessors that develop in the brain of each T'Chah at adulthood and incantations passed down from time immemorial. In this way, they were able to manipulate the form of this being they had engineered, creating passages to the surface world at will. Losi, Birdblood and Tesa were marveling at the bizarre passage as we followed Chanthoth. Our unusual benefactor turned to them and explained, "The root is covered with luminous fungi and insects, all the sections I have repaired are now lit. Birdblood, are you familiar with the Haaskupf Wood?" The flame-haired avian noble nods her head and repies, "Yes, this is the place where the necro forces launched their raid on the

Nest of Evil." We arrive at a fork in the root and our robed guide follows the smaller passage that veers to the right. He looks back at Birdblood and replies, "That is the furthest I have been able to complete my work in this direction. You will have to battle your way in from there." As we walk further, there is a noise in the distance that becomes louder and more intelligible. There is a bright light ahead, emanating from a doorway on the right side. Chanthoth addresses us again, "You will need help, I have called upon the Samurian Punx." we approach the door and peering in, I behold our old friends Opheilia Skullbourne and Fester Blackheart. Behind a drum kit, Opheilia bashes away maniacally while fester, abusing a mossy demon guitar, is screaming into a fungus blossom that rises from the floor.

Oddly disappointing was Blood of Kingu's 2nd album, Sun In The House Of The Scorpion. While bleak ionosphere of pain and suffering. The sound is more epic, the riffs broader, but they lack fierceness and sheer occult wierdness of the previous offering. If I were you, I'd check out De Occulta Philosophia, and skip this one.
their first album is a classic of hypnotic evil and unholy repetition, this album offers nothing new.