First Utterance From The Void
Album: Lock! Choke! Distort! Dead Black Monarch
After last year’s unrivaled metaldrone masterpiece Maaaaaaa, Abaddon comes back again with a weighty doomic slew: Lock! Choke! Distort! Dead Black Monarch. This is Abaddon, but Abaddon times a billion! More grimlore! More moss distortion esoteric over-moan, more tongue spoored corkscrew splutter. More deepblind shadows and blackrobed slow-mouthed murder-vox. More Abaddon! More Arkansas! Like a fierce efficient slow moving warmonger, Abaddon rules over a fault-sized glacial dronescape, then rigors the crawl speed heavier, rigors the dungeon-wood murkier. Layered guitar wash like the primordial oooooze of oilrinsed beach dunes. Secret wounds lathered with heather in the burning morning. Mothertongues dying in mothersuns. Seafowl. Carp. Abaddon consults the scrolls, dons a mask, reaches its withered hand into everyman until umbric, deepblind, numb. In a way, way way back before all origins, dissolution grew into metaldrone. Sound from some inhuman locked mournful existence: dark-murmured, eternal absence. Before the amoeba, four massive essential female roars, low-slung gutteral rumble. All is extreme here: spread crush howl foul liquid…other-human threeway. Gnosis: a slow commodious drowning in a multi-fingered abyss. This shit is epic! Can barking be denser? Can in be out? Can one bass drum resound in every realm? Can drums drum so far apart and still be drums? Echo-sounds yowl like legions of tumored roosters moving through darkly hewn marble halls, umbilic cocoons loom round the umber dusk then mushroom into one longsound of enduring DOOOOOM. ABADDON! Delphic. Vatic. Essential.