2024-02-28 18:46:00
The seven years since their powerful debut album Eroded Corridors of Unbeing have Spectral Voice spent with numerous completely convincing split EPs. For their second studio album Sparagmos, the rancid Death Doomers switch things up a notch.
To get straight to the point: The hype surrounding the return of the Blood Incantation-Splinter group (as a reminder: the string section consisting of Morris Kolontyrsky, Paul Riedl and Jeff Barrett on bass is joined by drummer and vocalist E. Wendler) may seem a little exaggerated and does not necessarily have to be divided – but at least it remains comprehensible at all times.
This is only ensured by the record’s real trump card, which, beyond its mobile, dynamically balanced songwriting, always captivates with good ideas for performance space: the ritualistic atmosphere of Sparagmos is, in keeping with the title, extremely dense and captivating, downright nihilistically intense in a cold and pitiless way; cruelly conjuring up a ceremonial darkness whose hypnotic trance feels like a rummaging in the slippery entrails of moist, furry carcasses and instead the details of individual instruments (the fundamental versatility of the drums, the sophistication of the riffs, which are adept at calling up their class but not creating iconic moments). ) willingly (and quite polarizingly) sacrifices it on the altar of the devouring mix.
How ominous and dark the band from Denver is trained in doomy ambient Be Cadaver opened to create a ghostly atmosphere along with the oscillating guitars with the volume of the drums and an anachronistically distant sound, is certainly terrific with a primitive instinct. The opener drags itself along in an exemplary manner, chastising, wheezing and imploringly into the dense aura, as a tectonic, demonic, haunting maelstrom. After seven minutes, it vigorously releases the handbrake with powerful malice and finds a shimmering clerical pastorality in the finale Bell Witch makes you think. Beauty? Salvation? More like a shade of martyrdom.
Red Feasts Condensed Into One hurls a hateful rush of speed onto diffuse, almost psychedelic veils and revels in the interplay of frenzy and stoic, dragging heaviness in thick claustrophobia. Acts as clearly the shortest song on the album Sinew Censer simpler, leads into its direct stream via an accessible motif, the stagnation of a viscous hell of nightmares is in no way surprising: the band’s MO is established, while the vocals scream, hiss, whine, whisper, scream, growl and roar, but like themselves the second half of the song screws under the skin with naked fear, only to escalate into an infernal climax, it’s just as great as only a few colleagues in the scene manage to do it so homogeneously, cohesively and functioning as a whole.
If Death’s Knell Rings in Eternity When a dying mould, consisting of tarantula bites, primal violence and gothic horror, exercises its morbid abstraction, inhales a majestic riff like a somnambulistic fog plague and castigatingly savors the tempo extremes, it doesn’t actually bring any new insights to the occult gift table, but it does swings (the one that doesn’t do anything wrong) Sparagmos in its ugly-looking entirety, it becomes a veritable lesson for genre competitors at the latest. What then doesn’t directly fit into the “sounding everywhere”Masterpiece“- shouts have to be heard – but the fact that we are still relatively certain to be dealing with this year’s Death Doom scene benchmark is, however, even with a little less euphoria, a prognosis without risk.
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