Beautifully foreboding pitch-black hypnotic waves of metal terror is what you’ll find brimming over on Endstille’s Reich. Germany’s Endstille (“not a political band” as they take pains to point out) deal in power and its ability to inflict pain, both musically and lyrically, throughout this fucking album. The music is just fucking gorgeously over-the-top aggressive, foot-on-the-fucking pedal from the word go — a deft mix of monochord fever-dream mantras underpinned by a pounding, muscular rhythm section, buzzing blastbeat speed runs that seem to shift and shimmer like a black diamond, and addictive crepuscular thrash sections that have this imperial quality to them. Endstille are really fucking good at what they do, to say the least. Unfortunately, what they do is wallow in the most base and destructive elements of human nature, fashioning a self-loathing indictment of the 20th century. Fuck yes!
The production is pristine, maximum power yielding maximum result. Guitar, bass and drums, are clear, nasty, steroided to fuck, and shiny black metallic — played with economic efficiency and a constant desire to push sound into a more immediate level of confrontation that is nothing short of astonishing. And vocalist Iblis is a revelation, not only responsible for lyrics that are simultaneously thoughtful and repellent, but delivering them with a vocal style that is akin to already raw vocal chords being rubbed bloody against black granite shards — painful screams and barks that will have you holding your throat in sympathy (he don’t want a bit of it, though). Songs stretch out according to their own whims, riffs gradually metamorphosize with strange clockwork inner workings without ever losing momentum. Not unlike staring up at huge, intimidating, ancient armor-clad statues the very moment before they crash down on yer fucking head.
An accusing finger down the throat of our own flimsy morality.
Regain Records: www.regainrecords.com