Blut Aus Nord
The Work Which Transforms God
Blut Aus Nord has crafted an album so relentlessly heavy, so bleak, so monolithic that it nearly defies comprehension. Detuned guitars, guttural vocals, shrieks and a concussion-inducing rhythm section that redefines the terms martial and militaristic, all compete for attention. For those blood-thirsty Americans who decried the French for their lack of resolve, their failed commitment to support us in our imperialistic machinations for Iraq, for those Americans who feel the French lack a spine and have no balls, they should throw down The Work Which Transforms God.
The album begins with the nearly quiet “The End.” This is merely a processional piece, a set-up, a lull to get listeners to drop their guard. “The End” is just under two minutes, the last thirty seconds of which exist as merely dead silence. Of course, this leads into the percussion heavy “Density,” a track nearly as subtle as a dental drill careening off your molar and plunging deep into your jaw. “The Choir of the Dead” picks up the pace and lifts guitarist/vocalist Vindsval’s voice from deep within the mix to the forefront of the track. If “Density” finds Vindsval’s voice echoing from the fringe of a maelstrom, “The Choir of the Dead” finds his voice front and center in the whirlwind.
The centerpiece of the album consists of the triptych: “The Fall,” “Metamorphosis” and “The Supreme Abstract.” While “The Fall” is a sludgy, mid-tempo rocker, it is also the closest thing on this release that bears resemblance to a proper song. Blut Aus Nord must have thought better after writing it because it is sequenced next to “Metamorphosis,” a rhythm heavy track that exists to highlight Vindsval’s shrieks and vocals augmented by detuned guitars. But shit, that’s merely a cleansing of the sonic palette for the mind-fuckery of “The Supreme Abstract.” If you hear people talking crap about Comets on Fire being heavy, man, that’s nothing; that’s just the indie rock flavor of the week, a booze and dope inspired rave-up. On “The Supreme Abstract” and the monumental “Procession of the Dead Clowns,” this is the sound of spoiled downers and an ounce of bad PCP, all being chased by a liter of absinthe. Blut Aus Nord has written and performed the soundtrack for a chemical induced meltdown; this is a soundtrack for watching the walls melt, the sky constrict, grow red and dim. That other sound, the sound between tracks, that’s the sound of your brain cells dying.
Candlelight Records: www.candlelightrecords.co.uk