Review by Dominik on November 11, 2024.

When I first listened to “Revelation”, three things immediately stood out. First, Serpents Oath has perfected the art of time travel. They somehow channeled the raw spirit of late 90s black metal through a modern lens. It’s as if they’ve discovered a wormhole between decades—or simply decided that time is an unnecessary concept when you’re dealing with the eternal darkness of black metal.

Second, it’s impossible to ignore how much the album pays homage to the Swedish school of black metal. “Revelation” proudly tips its hat to Marduk and Dark Funeral, with only two tracks (“Path of the Serpent” and “Pandaemonium”) daring to build any atmosphere before launching into that kind of all-out frenzy. The rest of the songs don’t even bother with longer foreplay—straight into the fire without so much as a “how do you do” and they don’t let up until the job of musical obliteration is complete.

Third, I’m relieved to report that the high standard set by their previous album holds firm here—if anything, Serpents Oath have upped the ante. There’s confidence in their sound, and the results are more than convincing. Which brings me to my premature conclusion from those early listens: I liked it then, and I like it even more now.

After spinning “Revelation” a few times, I’m pleased to say my initial thoughts weren’t just a fleeting illusion caused by the fumes of brimstone and cheap Belgian beer. This record doesn’t just hold up three months later—it feels like that cold, uninvited guest in your house who refuses to leave. And honestly, I don’t want it to. This album is a ferocious beast, and like most beasts, it isn’t out to win your affection through subtlety. It’s an unyielding tribute to Marduk’s “Nightwing”, “Panzer Division Marduk”, or early Dark Funeral. And for those born yesterday, there’s a hint of Ad Noctem Funeriis’s “Satan’s March Black Metal” to keep things feeling “modern”.

Let’s talk structure. “Revelation” is organized with a tight sense of purpose: three sets of three songs, punctuated by one intro and two short interludes. What’s refreshing is that Serpents Oath doesn’t blow all their evil energy in the first third—they’ve carefully spread the devastation across the entire album, meaning that by the time you think you’ve survived, another sonic blast flattens whatever’s left of you. But this approach ensures that there’s something worth your time in each section. It’s a deliberate, cohesive release, which never feels front-loaded, and just runs like a well-oiled war machine.

Of course, you can’t discuss “Revelation” without pointing out the heavy influence described above. The tremolo picking, the machine-gun drumming, and that vocalist who sounds like he gargles with crushed glass and heresy—these are all familiar elements. But is it a cheap knockoff? Hardly. Sure, the genre has a somehow limited toolkit, but Serpents Oath wields it with such precision that their sound at least feels in some way their own.

Is there anything on the flipside of the medal? Yes, the satanic imagery can get a little heavy-handed at times. It’s as though the band wants to make absolutely sure you understand just how evil they are, turning the intensity up to eleven in case the riffs didn’t scream “hellfire” loud enough or the mostly incessant blast beats didn't give it away. But instead of feeling forced, it’s more like they’re embracing the theatrics of black metal, throwing an extra goat or pentagram onto the fire, even when it’s already ablaze. Especially when you watch some of their videos, you get the impression that they might flirt with crossing into self-parody, but they always stop just short, maintaining the right balance between conviction and spectacle.

In my opinion “Path of the Serpent” and “Pandaemonium” are the standout tracks here. These two songs take a “sulfurous” breath, building some anticipation before plunging into the same sonic blitz as the others. These moments of “restraint” highlight the band’s ability to create tension and release, injecting just a hint of variety into an otherwise blistering performance. The songs aren’t wildly different from the rest, but they show Serpents Oath isn’t afraid to “experiment” (mind you, we're not talking progressiveness here!) within the boundaries of their unyielding sound.

Some might argue there’s not much in the way of musical evolution between this and their previous release, but here’s the thing: sometimes sticking to your guns (or in this case to your sacrificial daggers) is the best approach. Serpents Oath knows exactly who they are and what they’re about. And honestly, I’m here for it. There’s something to be said for a band that refines its craft without feeling the need to reinvent the wheel every time.

Rating: 8.4/10 – because sometimes you just need an album that doesn’t pretend to be anything other than a very good, anti-sunshine black metal barrage.