How long will Dimmu get away with recycling different variations of the same riff? I suppose I should ask how long will you dopey assholes let them? How many of your hard-earned dollars will go toward Galder’s latest melted-crayon shirt? Concept album or not, this will undoubtedly pass as 2007’s most repetitive, hasbeenistic, and downright dreary release. What exactly is the “concept”? The lyrical story to be told? To me it seems little more than wordplay giving Shaggers free range to oscillate between spooky spoken passages and unflattering falsetto. After all, if it doesn’t prevail, it’s only a “concept” album. Religion sickens me too, guys, but don’t insult me.

I’m actually not sure what I’ve just listened to. I mean, as dreadful as it was, Death Cult at least bore infrequent moments reminiscent of days Triumphant, but this Silenozian atrocity is beyond rationalization. There is simply nothing creative, nothing inspiring, and nothing newsworthy about a band whose cumulative output is only slightly more dynamic than the crack patterns in my feces. Every song is but a fraction different than the last, and Shaggy’s attempt to sing is even less successful than Matt Cale’s current diet plan. His blustering on about darkness and despair is fucking cringe-inducing at this point. It’s the same old Demon Burger — overcooked and tasteless.

If there ever roamed a lethargic black-metal cash cow, this is it. If there ever was a soundtrack played in a black-metal gay bar, this is it. I’d be embarrassed for Blomberg, but he turned frosted leatherdaddy drumwhore years ago, effectively destroying any credibility he may have had with that heinous Kovenant photoshoot. On a positive note, I will say that the synth isn’t as corny as I anticipated. Don’t get me wrong, the shit is awful, just not as schmaltzy as some of their previous forays into the gloom. The result, thankfully, is a more guitar-driven production, but don’t fret, there’s plenty of piano interludes and atmospheric dawdling to tickle your faggoth sensibilities.

I’ve no idea which release I heard (there are three, with three different bonus tracks), but the final jig on my pirated copy managed to pop at least one rusty, stripped-out nail from the coffin lid. It sounded as if it could’ve made the reissued Stormblåst, which remains the most pointless rehashing of mediocrity in the history of black metal. Still, the track isn’t intolerable. The absence of Shaggy’s wailing, coupled with a heavy intro and sporadic blasts, made for the best minutes on the disc. And what of Hellhammer anyway? While the drumming is impossibly synthetic, there’s no arguing its flawlessness. Within the given context, however, I’d rather imagine Nick sweating and swaying his manatee frame behind the kit. Really, though, who cares anymore?

About Mike von Hobart

Mike has 4 skills in life- drinking, reviewing black metal, being unemployed, and general uselessness. He writes about 2 pieces a year, but they are invariably our most popular because our readership is comprised of 17 year-old Scandinavian virgins, by which we mean 28 year-old Scandinavian virgins.