Review by Fran on June 15, 2021.

Catarsis Incarne’s most recent release: Abiogénesis Libro III, does not drift away from their trademark sound. Industrial riffing with lots of rhythmic syncopes, use of downtuned 7 string guitars and 5 string basses for a rich low end and mechanical drumming focusing primarily on blast beats. The issue with this band is how monotone the songs are, how much they abuse their own formula. The result is alright, but the main musical themes aren’t outstanding or memorable at all. I mean; its music is obscure and heavy and fast, but it's just the same broken metric over and over again.

Esteban Monestel’s vocals aren’t particularly low or guttural but they get the job done in the end. His vocalization in spanish stretches the syllables and takes the growls into the spotlight. He’s the main songwriter of the band and the bassist too; while his bass lines aren’t spectacularly technical, I must recognize that those odd timings show composition skills and the bass tone is simply delicious, crunchy and fat. He uses a pick but the tone isn’t bright and clanky because its equalization is balanced, it's present throughout the whole album in the mix and he uses a slight distortion to spice things up a bit. He recorded everything by himself, his abilities as a sound engineer are also remarkable.

Guitars mostly follow the bass lines, there are some solos and quiet arpeggio parts but generally the riffs are just the same syncopated ideas from the bass. The guitar tone is sharp and cold, kind of black-metalish and modern. The drumming has a tribal feel on the breaks but the mechanical and industrial edge of the squared blast beats predominates. The use of the cymbals is scarce and the most different variation is the use of the traditional “tambito” rhythm; an old dance beat from the northern pacific region of Costa Rica that is actually festive and happy... I don’t get why they experimented with it in the first place.

Rating: 6 out of 10

Review by criscool623 on February 18, 2021.

After a tough period of my life (something that you probably don't care about), I'm finally back reviewing albums! And what a better way of coming back than reviewing some Latin American metal? Recently, I had the opportunity to listen to Catarsis Incarne. I'm not very into death metal, but it's always a pleasure to check out new and unknown stuff for me. My thoughts? Well, truth be told, they aren't very positive.

To start with, the production and the sound are bestial. The band, as a whole, sounds powerful and brutal; you really feel a wall of sound while listening to it. This is a prime production and that's a strong point in this release. Also, the band members are really competent at executing their instruments; the voice is monstrous, the guitar players (including the bass player) are really talented, as does the drum player. Regarding these aspects, there are no flaws. However, when it comes to music, the real problem with this release appears.

The music is extremely inconsistent. Sadly, only 3 out of 10 songs are worth listening to and to be saved in your death metal playlist, but I wouldn't recommend a death metal fan to buy the entire CD. Why? Because tracks from 3 to 5 have good ideas; they have powerful and interesting riffs, but they are suddenly interrupted by other sections that quit that aggressiveness and power that the song was constructing. It's kind of difficult to explain, but take, for example, the title track; there are powerful riffs, but the introductory riff is introduced (which is more mid-paced in comparison) in the middle of the song, and it eliminates all the power of the rest of the song. The sad story is that this "coitus interruptus" element is repeated during the rest of tracks of the album, and this may feel anticlimactic and frustrating for someone who seeks a monstrous and crushing death metal album. Maybe the band's intention was to be kind of progressive or experimental, but they really should work on this aspect so their music feels more consistent and strong rather than weak, frustrating and kind of boring.

Unfortunately, I can't give a very high score to this release. Listen to the first two tracks of the album and 'Encarnación del Prejuicio'; they are excellent death metal tracks and may be added to your playlist, but I think you will miss nothing really outstanding or special if you ignore the rest of the album.

Rating: 5.6 out of 10

Review by Felix on March 26, 2024.

I don’t think that there exists such thing as a national character. Nevertheless I am convinced that the creator of Earth did not spread humour in big portions over Scandinavia. Otherwise there would not be this gigantic horde of black and death metal musicians who hail from the Northern end of the Old World. But no rule without exception, Necrophobic obviously belong to the more humorous guys. I have realized this in view of the advance tracks they released for In The Twilight Grey. Usually, we can be sure that the songs which should make us believe that they announce a gargantuan milestone of any band are among the three best tracks of the following full-lengths. But the pretty generic 'Stormcrow' with its nearly mediocre chorus and the pretty powerless centre part and especially the relatively harmless, somehow almost inadequately bombastic 'As Stars Collide' march to a different drummer. To me, they appeared like the harbinger of a medium-sized disappointment. Let me say it unambiguously: 'Stormcrow' is still a 7 out of 10 and 'As Stars Collide' deserves a 6.5 – but come on, we are speaking about Necrophobic, the legend that has given us divine gifts like 'Mirror Black', 'Sacrosanct' or 'Revelation 666', to name just a few examples.

But don’t panic, Necrophobic – and here I come back to the topic humour – just had fun confusing their followers. In The Twilight Grey does not disappoint, because there are a couple of excellent songs; they only have other titles than the aforementioned tracks. Anyway, before I try to describe the highlights as good as I can, I want to underline the very positive fact that the quintet has not changed its general approach. Haunting melodies are surrounded by vehement outbursts and the charismatic, little confidence inspiring voice of Anders Strokirk. One might think: okay, that’s fine, but other, stylistically comparable bands trust more or less the same recipe. I agree, but due to whatever reasons, Necrophobic’s music embodies a diabolic elegance which is second to none. Perhaps main composer Sebastian Ramstedt’s musical feeling is outstanding, maybe there is a special chemistry when these dudes come together, maybe it is the fact that they do not use primitive shock effects or overly raw elements. Anyway, In The Twilight Grey is another album that represents the devil in his deluxe edition. This lad is not interested in shedding hectolitres of blood, he kills softly with an actually gentle smile. And naturally he profits from a very good production. The voice and the guitars appear flawlessly in my humble opinion. Especially the guitar sound finds the perfect place between morbid beauty and metallic aggression. Thus, it is only a minor detail that the drums of the only constant member of the band, Joakim Sterner, were allocated in the back rows. Sometimes they drown in the inferno of the six strings. In particular the double bass becomes a victim of the guitar dominance. But once again, this does not mean that I have a serious problem with the mix. It’s just not as perfect as the best songs of the Swedes, that’s all.

Speaking of good songs, In The Twilight Grey enters its most exciting, completely fascinating and most gloomy section with the first tones of 'Shadows Of The Brightest Night'. The piece lets the listener walk on the edge of the abyss, always in danger of falling in the next second. Naturally I prefer its intensive high speed outbursts, but the entire track is a monument of dark grace. This song is the entry to a really hellish trip. Next stop: 'Mirrors Of A Thousand Lakes'. It does not have the overwhelming morbidity of the 'Mirror Black', it is not among the fastest eruptions of the formation and its solo houses almost dreamy tones. Nevertheless, the dudes have opened the door to the darkest corner of their souls again and the result is great. 'Cast In Stone' does not only present a great solo. It is a mix of strict high speed parts and 'Tartarian Winds' heaviness, while the lyrics of 'Nordanvind' speak for themselves: “Carry my dreams in your storms...the bells will ring, let the northern sky sing”. I don’t think that I have a better description for this atmospherically dense song. Be that as it may, the best is yet to come. The title track heralds the Apocalypse with its fiery verses before it comes to a more harmonic chorus. The song grows and it embraces the listener violently with its cataclysmic vibrations. It is impressive to experience once again that ultimate intensity and a fine sense for harmonies are not mutually exclusive in the world of Necrophobic.

The evil outburst called 'Clavis Inferni' is the only track which is able to compete with the songs on the positions from five to nine. Motivated by a strictly hammering snare drum, the song jumps head first into devastating guitar leads. Of course, Necrophobic vary the tempo in this sombre ambassador of Satan too. Nevertheless, it is one of the more powerful ones her. Maybe this is the (very) little problem of In The Twilight Grey: the red-hot inferno of some of their former, most violent songs, does not occur very often here. But for example the beginning and the end of 'Clavis Inferni' make clear that even the musically most competent band is well advised to put the focus on sheer aggression from time to time. By contrast, the opener (stormy sections, but a relatively lame part in its centre) is good, but not phenomenal. Maybe it has the potential to grow, but up to now it does not stand out and honestly, I thought that a murderous introduction is always an advisable thing. However, perhaps the selection of 'Grace Of The Past' for the first position just mirrors the strange humour of Necrophobic once more.

Rating: 8.6 out of 10

Review by Vladimir on March 22, 2024.

There are a handful of bands whose game still remains strong even after 3 decades of their existence, without their creativity fading away and without their impact diminishing throughout time. In the Swedish metal scene, anything is possible to be everlasting as long as the commitment and effort doesn’t go to waste. Such is the case with the highly influential and brilliant black/death metal band Necrophobic, a band with such a strong reputation that doesn't have a single bad album in their entire discography, and yet they are still creating the same kind of magic that is just as fresh and satisfying as it was on their previous releases. Their last two albums Mark Of The Necrogram and Dawn Of The Damned were met with positive reviews from fans and critics, with both albums considered to be to be equally great and faithful to the band’s legacy. On March 15th, 2024, Necrophobic returned with their tenth full-length album In The Twilight Grey, marking their official third album with Anders Strokirk on vocals since his return in 2017 and the official first album with longtime session bassist Tobias Christiansson, who is now a full-time member of the band. Although their three previously released singles successfully managed to raise expectations and tease the upcoming album, the important question still remains: is it worth entering this realm entirely covered in twilight grey? Let’s find out....

Not a second of introduction or preparation and the album already starts off very strong with the first track 'Grace Of The Past' which is a good album opener that shows a great deal of promise that this will indeed be an authentic Necrophobic experience. From the very get-go you will be instantly welcomed by a plethora of badass riffs with plenty of tremolo picking, kick ass drumming by Joakim and harsh vocals of Anders Strokirk, that altogether dominate and burn like hellfire. What this album promises a lot is that there will be some awesome memorable bangers, some of which will leave the biggest impression. Perhaps the best example among those outstanding bangers is the phenomenal third track 'As Stars Collide', and I think it could easily be considered one of Necrophobic’s best songs with Anders Strokirk since 'Tsar Bomba'. The following track 'Stormcrow', which is yet another outstanding banger on this album, is somewhat of a nice stylistic hybrid with a bit melody, combining the band’s more death metal focused material that was on Nocturnal Silence with their finest blackened death metal moments from the later works such as Death To All and Mark Of The Necrogram. If you were on the lookout for some slightly more atmospheric moments on this album, don’t worry, because we’ve got those in here as well. The ominous 'Shadows Of The Brightest Night' and the epic 'Nordanvind' further expand this journey by making it more engaging, while also adding some elements of musical suspense. Throughout the entire album it’s non-stop banging and musical mayhem that turns everything to dust, building up to the grand finale of the album with the closing track 'Ascension (Episode Four)', that is an epic conclusion to the album, as well as a nice nod to their previous episodes 'Venaesectio', 'Descension' and 'Nifelhel' from Darkside in 1997.

As is the case with many of the band’s previous albums, they always make the songwriting feel dynamic and interesting, with plenty of moments that border with death metal, thrash metal and a bit of heavy metal, especially when it comes to the effective use of melody. Those who are familiar with the band’s signature sound and style will certainly not be disappointed with what this album has to offer, because it has everything that a Necrophobic fan such as myself would expect, down to every last bit. Overall, every song is packed with furious energy and some moments on this album feel like the entire band was super jacked on steroids while recording that they had to flex all their muscles without pulling back. You can simply tell that these guys were very enthusiastic and highly inspired during the making of the new album, as well as when they were recording it. Every riff, every bassline, every blast beat, every solo and every chorus in here is nothing but pure energy that obviously comes from the heart, without anything in their music or playing that could be considered untrue or forced in a desperate attempt to please the audience. The band gave their absolute 110% on this album and then added the “Midas Touch” by turning every idea into gold. Even when Necrophobic introduces some slower/mid-tempo moments in their songs, they can still make it sound heavy and evil at the same time, without breaking away from their established musical flow. Speaking of the overall musical flow, what I always loved about the band is that they always remained very faithful to their foundation, and here we see their stylistic consistency throughout the entire album being put to a good use and proving that they don’t need any fancy tricks or studio magic to make it as authentic as possible. The album flows so smoothly from section to section and from one track to another, even with their rich and dynamic songwriting that broadens the musical horizon. The album artwork by Jens Rydén (Thyrfing, ex-Naglfar) nicely depicts the musical essence of In The Twilight Grey album in physical form, which truly can’t be better depicted than a merciless reaper who turns all living things into ash as the hourglass on his enormous chain is ticking. As for the album’s sound production, it was once again done by Fredrik Folkare, and it is just as excellent as it was on all their previous releases starting from Hrimthursum in 2006, doing great justice to the band’s musical output and their signature sound.

For a long time since I’ve known them, Necrophobic has been one of those bands that has always been the definition of “true extreme metal for truly extreme metal fans”, while also being one of the bands that has never ever let me down with any of their previous albums. Even if I have enjoyed some of their albums less than others, I would still end up appreciating those works much later on, because I can still love it for what it is and enjoy it more than what many other bands, old or new, are doing at the moment. In the case of their new album In The Twilight Grey, they prove that they can still carry on and keep the everlasting flame burning for ages, gathering hordes of new fans to join them and march with pride under the mark of the Necrogram. It’s truly a magnificent album that succeeded to please the fan within me and exceed all my expectations. As a band who always sticks to their roots, never sold out for a wider audience and continued to produce such excellent material, I think that this album deserves to be rated a maximum 10 out of 10 for being an extraordinary piece of art. Let this album be an example that they have once again expanded their everlasting legacy for the world of black and death metal.

Rating: 10 out of 10

Review by Michael on March 3, 2024.

The tenth full-length album by Swedish death/black metal legends comes with a cover from a new artist and with it they discontinued their interesting approach of visiting the Devil's Church. This time the cover reminds me more of “Paradise Lost” by the epic metal guys Cirith Ungol (no surprise with that title) but does this mean that Necrophobic have changed their style?

Well, generally not. They still have this rousing, highly catchy death/black metal mélange they did on their previous albums (okay, let's just forget Womb Of Lilithu which was, although not really bad, some kind of low light in their discography) that is based on the guitar work and the compositions by Sebastian Ramstedt who has become a real freak when it comes to guitar play and everything around the instrument. Anders Strokirks’́ vocals sound as frosty, sinister and powerful as ever but there’s also another little nuance to his performance. In some songs like the opener 'Grace Of The Past' he sometimes snorts out the words so that in my head manifests the picture of a fire breathing demon. This creates a very dark and evil atmosphere and is a stylistic device that works as great as hell, so to speak. And coming back to the guitar work on In The Twilight Grey, there is more classical heavy metal embedded into the songs than ever before. Whoever knows the guys, won't be too surprised because they have a huge penchant for classic heavy metal stuff from the 80s and so this is a logical step to incorporate some of these inspirations into their own music. This makes the songs much more diverse in comparison to their previous releases and with this they also offer a bigger target to attack. I can also imagine that some die-hard, trve death-black metal fans will have some issues with this more progressive songwriting because of not being 100% death-black. But in some moments there are also some more Bathory-like elements in so that the songs get a more blackish touch and like Joakim Sterner told me in the interview we did lately, with a track like 'Ascension (Episode Four)' they also go back into their past, namely to Darkside back from 1997.

I guess, one should review each of the ten songs to describe the album in full detail but this would burst the frame here, so I'll mention just a few to put into words how diverse In The Twilight Grey is. Let's start with 'As Stars Collide'. This is one of the most melodic and epic tracks Necrophobic ever did. The song is kept in a slow mid-tempo range with a repetitive chorus and galloping pace and reminds me pretty much of the Viking-era by the already mentioned Swedish black metal legend. 'Clavis Inferni' is a fast and furious death metal stomper with some more punkish vibes in the drumming. The chorus again is very catchy and stressed out by some fantastic and melodic guitar leads. Also the breaks incorporated are very intelligent and surprising. 'Shadows Of The Brightest Night' is one of my personal highlights, especially because of these palm-muted picks in the guitar play which is something they didn't use before. The song creates a very dense and threatening atmosphere and works out best in the dark (of course). And finally “Stromcrow” which was already released as first single in 2023 already is a typical Necrophobic death-black inferno again with a cool catchy chorus and an outstanding bridge part which has become super epic. This one will probably become a must-have when it comes to live shows.

So you can probably read in my words that the album has become a very interesting thing which wants to be discovered. In some parts it might be a little bit tricky to get access to it but like Joakim said, it's a “grower”.

Rating: 10 out of 10 Stormcrows

Review by Benjamin on February 14, 2024.

There are relatively few albums in this listener’s collection that were purchased directly from the band. This one, however, was received directly from the hands of Ole Pedersen Luk, vocalist, guitarist and sole composer behind Danish black metallers Afsky, in return for some cold, hard British cash. Luk received his reward following an absolutely spectacular support slot with Panopticon, a performance good enough to render impossible the task of leaving the Boston Music Rooms (subsequently renamed Downstairs at the Dome) without a physical copy of the songs that Afsky had replicated so brilliantly onstage. It was difficult to reconcile the diminutive and softly-spoken frontman with the fearsome singer spitting so much bile into the microphone just minutes before, although in some respects, this was the perfect representation of both the beauty and the ugliness paradoxically present at the heart of Afsky’s music. Om Hundrede År (or, In A Hundred Years, when translated, hopefully accurately, into English), is the band’s third full-length, following the well-regarded Ofte Jeg Drømmer Mig Død, and entrances the listener straight away with a classical intro, picked out fingerstyle on acoustic guitar. This immediately recalls any number of metal classics that commence in similar style, not least Metallica’s "Ride The Lightning" and "Master Of Puppets", and Iron Maiden’s "Seventh Son Of A Seventh Son", the band placing themselves in the company of masters, as well as affectionately acknowledging a well-worn tradition that deserves to be maintained. This introduction also serves to generate a level of intimacy, bringing the listener closer to music that deserves undivided attention, and in some respects suggests that there is no artifice here, that what follows will be totally authentic and utterly sincere.

As the delicate acoustic tones complete the coda that precipitates an avalanche of frigid minor chords, savagely tremolo-picked against half-time drums, a sparse, but full, tone thickened by a pleasingly audible bass, Afsky’s curious approach to black metal slowly reveals itself, a blurry image through a telescope gradually coming into focus. Although the band are ostensibly black metal in tone and approach, there is almost nothing that can be described as a conventional riff to be found, with the primary mode of attack revolving around baroque, long-form melodies subtly moving through a wall of sound created by the chromatically moving chords. Small changes in these guitar lines, as they repeat through numerous hypnotic phases become fascinating points of interest, and Afsky’s music demands total attention if these are to be fully appreciated. The note choices may be quite different, but the band’s songwriting is frequently reminiscent of Agalloch, seen through a storm of static. The overall effect on a track such as the opener, 'Stormfulde Hav' (Stormy Seas), is highly atmospheric, but atypically for black metal, not in the kind of externalised manner that bands such as Winterfylleth and Wolves In The Throne Room utilise to evoke scenes of wild and untamed nature. Instead, the landscape here is internalised, the steep mountainous crags and plummeting depths travelled an emotional journey through one’s own dreams and nightmares, unsettling and ecstatic in equal measures. Throughout this track, and much of the rest of the album, Afsky delight as they transform what is often a sad and mournful sound into something more triumphant, moving through major key progressions, and betraying a melodic sensibility that suggests an affinity with some of the key Swedish bands of the mid-late 1990s, most obviously Sacramentum, with a dash of Viking-pagan era Bathory. These changes in feel could be jarring in clumsier hands, but the transitions mostly feel natural and satisfying, and this is a testament to the skill of a band that utilise few moving parts to create a symbiosis way beyond what should be possible with such a simple approach.

‘Frosne Vind’ (Frozen Wind) follows a similar pattern to the opener, although it plumbs even more corruscating emotional depths, while also increasing the richness and complexity of the harmonic layers that build another slow-burn masterpiece. Luk’s vocals come very much to the fore here, his orc-like screech recalling Varg Vikernes on the early Burzum albums, a wounded, despairing howl that pierces the icy heart of the listener. Filosefem-era Burzum is, in fact, an apposite comparison for Afsky. Luk’s compositions are a little more sophisticated, and show a greater inclination to add classic metal phrasing to the guitar work, but the trance-inducing nature of the almost cyclical chord progressions is similar, as is the overall feeling evoked by the disconsolate atmosphere. Not for Afsky the individualistic majesty and power of Emperor or Immortal, or the necrotic filth of Darkthrone or Beherit. Instead, the band appear to operate in their own hermetically-sealed world of internal pain and suffering, with their music a cold reflection of an inner turmoil. ‘Frosne Vind’ is almost unbearably intense, as a tidal wave of minor chords threatens to set the listener adrift on a stormy sea, but an infectiously simple arpeggio provides a life-raft, a point of focus to hold on to as a route out of the roiling waters is found, moments before everything goes black.

Afsky are the sound of what this listener imagined Depressive Suicidal Black Metal (DSBM) might resemble, prior to a note being heard, and in some respects their music is more affecting than that niche and perhaps sometimes contrived form of the sub-genre. There is something unutterably uncompromising about Afsky’s music, a sense that not only is it something that they want to create, but that it is something that they need, an essential outlet for emotions that might become dangerous were they repressed. At no point is there any indication that they are making music with anyone but themselves in mind – any audience that they do have has found them, rather than the other way round, and no concessions are offered to anyone that might find the longform nature of their music difficult to swallow. At times, Afsky’s are almost overwhelmingly melancholic, the band wallowing in an overflowing pool of sadness, filled by a never-ending waterfall of sorrow. On the best track, 'Det Der Var' (What Once Was), a harpsichord melody is added to follow the guitars, which adds an intriguing texture to the band’s sparse, but all-encompassing sound, threatening a slightly more progressive future for the band. Small motifs are gradually added and subtracted as the track progresses, and, a little like Der Weg Einer Freiheit’s most recent effort "Noktvrn", Afsky develop a narrative that it is impossible not to follow, pulling the listener through to a breathless conclusion.

Despite the scintillating quality of every song on the album, one can observe that there is still scope for Afsky to improve further. The drum patterns, while not detrimentally affecting the songs, are occasionally monotonous, and a more dextrous and dynamic performance could add an additional dimension to the band’s sound. In addition, although the majority of the transitions between sections are well-managed, some are not quite as fluid as they might be, exposing the internal structure of the song a little too transparently, and it will be fascinating to see if the band can render those joins a little less visible in future, without losing the slightly lo-fi charm of their core sound. For the most part though, the small flaws are easy to ignore. Om Hundrede År is a wonderful, mesmerising album, and one which only improves with every listen. Small details, miniscule changes to guitar lines that appear on the surface to be simple, but in reality weave a circuitous path around the pounding rhythm section, continue to reveal themselves long after one believes oneself to have got the measure of the record, and it practically implores the listener to continue to return, in search of another heart-wrenching harmony, or vocal inflection. Typifying the ugly beauty of black metal, Afsky’s music is caustic and even awkward at times, but it contains a seductive majesty, an enchanting spell at its heart, that cannot avoid bewitching those who return to it to feel, once again, the unbreakable emotional connection that the album cannot help but forge.

Rating: 8.4 out of 10

Review by Benjamin on February 14, 2024.

There are relatively few albums in this listener’s collection that were purchased directly from the band. This one, however, was received directly from the hands of Ole Pedersen Luk, vocalist, guitarist and sole composer behind Danish black metallers Afsky, in return for some cold, hard British cash. Luk received his reward following an absolutely spectacular support slot with Panopticon, a performance good enough to render impossible the task of leaving the Boston Music Rooms (subsequently renamed Downstairs at the Dome) without a physical copy of the songs that Afsky had replicated so brilliantly onstage. It was difficult to reconcile the diminutive and softly-spoken frontman with the fearsome singer spitting so much bile into the microphone just minutes before, although in some respects, this was the perfect representation of both the beauty and the ugliness paradoxically present at the heart of Afsky’s music. Om Hundrede År (or, In A Hundred Years, when translated, hopefully accurately, into English), is the band’s third full-length, following the well-regarded Ofte Jeg Drømmer Mig Død, and entrances the listener straight away with a classical intro, picked out fingerstyle on acoustic guitar. This immediately recalls any number of metal classics that commence in similar style, not least Metallica’s "Ride The Lightning" and "Master Of Puppets", and Iron Maiden’s "Seventh Son Of A Seventh Son", the band placing themselves in the company of masters, as well as affectionately acknowledging a well-worn tradition that deserves to be maintained. This introduction also serves to generate a level of intimacy, bringing the listener closer to music that deserves undivided attention, and in some respects suggests that there is no artifice here, that what follows will be totally authentic and utterly sincere.

As the delicate acoustic tones complete the coda that precipitates an avalanche of frigid minor chords, savagely tremolo-picked against half-time drums, a sparse, but full, tone thickened by a pleasingly audible bass, Afsky’s curious approach to black metal slowly reveals itself, a blurry image through a telescope gradually coming into focus. Although the band are ostensibly black metal in tone and approach, there is almost nothing that can be described as a conventional riff to be found, with the primary mode of attack revolving around baroque, long-form melodies subtly moving through a wall of sound created by the chromatically moving chords. Small changes in these guitar lines, as they repeat through numerous hypnotic phases become fascinating points of interest, and Afsky’s music demands total attention if these are to be fully appreciated. The note choices may be quite different, but the band’s songwriting is frequently reminiscent of Agalloch, seen through a storm of static. The overall effect on a track such as the opener, 'Stormfulde Hav' (Stormy Seas), is highly atmospheric, but atypically for black metal, not in the kind of externalised manner that bands such as Winterfylleth and Wolves In The Throne Room utilise to evoke scenes of wild and untamed nature. Instead, the landscape here is internalised, the steep mountainous crags and plummeting depths travelled an emotional journey through one’s own dreams and nightmares, unsettling and ecstatic in equal measures. Throughout this track, and much of the rest of the album, Afsky delight as they transform what is often a sad and mournful sound into something more triumphant, moving through major key progressions, and betraying a melodic sensibility that suggests an affinity with some of the key Swedish bands of the mid-late 1990s, most obviously Sacramentum, with a dash of Viking-pagan era Bathory. These changes in feel could be jarring in clumsier hands, but the transitions mostly feel natural and satisfying, and this is a testament to the skill of a band that utilise few moving parts to create a symbiosis way beyond what should be possible with such a simple approach.

‘Frosne Vind’ (Frozen Wind) follows a similar pattern to the opener, although it plumbs even more corruscating emotional depths, while also increasing the richness and complexity of the harmonic layers that build another slow-burn masterpiece. Luk’s vocals come very much to the fore here, his orc-like screech recalling Varg Vikernes on the early Burzum albums, a wounded, despairing howl that pierces the icy heart of the listener. Filosefem-era Burzum is, in fact, an apposite comparison for Afsky. Luk’s compositions are a little more sophisticated, and show a greater inclination to add classic metal phrasing to the guitar work, but the trance-inducing nature of the almost cyclical chord progressions is similar, as is the overall feeling evoked by the disconsolate atmosphere. Not for Afsky the individualistic majesty and power of Emperor or Immortal, or the necrotic filth of Darkthrone or Beherit. Instead, the band appear to operate in their own hermetically-sealed world of internal pain and suffering, with their music a cold reflection of an inner turmoil. ‘Frosne Vind’ is almost unbearably intense, as a tidal wave of minor chords threatens to set the listener adrift on a stormy sea, but an infectiously simple arpeggio provides a life-raft, a point of focus to hold on to as a route out of the roiling waters is found, moments before everything goes black.

Afsky are the sound of what this listener imagined Depressive Suicidal Black Metal (DSBM) might resemble, prior to a note being heard, and in some respects their music is more affecting than that niche and perhaps sometimes contrived form of the sub-genre. There is something unutterably uncompromising about Afsky’s music, a sense that not only is it something that they want to create, but that it is something that they need, an essential outlet for emotions that might become dangerous were they repressed. At no point is there any indication that they are making music with anyone but themselves in mind – any audience that they do have has found them, rather than the other way round, and no concessions are offered to anyone that might find the longform nature of their music difficult to swallow. At times, Afsky’s are almost overwhelmingly melancholic, the band wallowing in an overflowing pool of sadness, filled by a never-ending waterfall of sorrow. On the best track, 'Det Der Var' (What Once Was), a harpsichord melody is added to follow the guitars, which adds an intriguing texture to the band’s sparse, but all-encompassing sound, threatening a slightly more progressive future for the band. Small motifs are gradually added and subtracted as the track progresses, and, a little like Der Weg Einer Freiheit’s most recent effort "Noktvrn", Afsky develop a narrative that it is impossible not to follow, pulling the listener through to a breathless conclusion.

Despite the scintillating quality of every song on the album, one can observe that there is still scope for Afsky to improve further. The drum patterns, while not detrimentally affecting the songs, are occasionally monotonous, and a more dextrous and dynamic performance could add an additional dimension to the band’s sound. In addition, although the majority of the transitions between sections are well-managed, some are not quite as fluid as they might be, exposing the internal structure of the song a little too transparently, and it will be fascinating to see if the band can render those joins a little less visible in future, without losing the slightly lo-fi charm of their core sound. For the most part though, the small flaws are easy to ignore. Om Hundrede År is a wonderful, mesmerising album, and one which only improves with every listen. Small details, miniscule changes to guitar lines that appear on the surface to be simple, but in reality weave a circuitous path around the pounding rhythm section, continue to reveal themselves long after one believes oneself to have got the measure of the record, and it practically implores the listener to continue to return, in search of another heart-wrenching harmony, or vocal inflection. Typifying the ugly beauty of black metal, Afsky’s music is caustic and even awkward at times, but it contains a seductive majesty, an enchanting spell at its heart, that cannot avoid bewitching those who return to it to feel, once again, the unbreakable emotional connection that the album cannot help but forge.

Rating: 8.4 out of 10

Review by Benjamin on February 14, 2024.

There are relatively few albums in this listener’s collection that were purchased directly from the band. This one, however, was received directly from the hands of Ole Pedersen Luk, vocalist, guitarist and sole composer behind Danish black metallers Afsky, in return for some cold, hard British cash. Luk received his reward following an absolutely spectacular support slot with Panopticon, a performance good enough to render impossible the task of leaving the Boston Music Rooms (subsequently renamed Downstairs at the Dome) without a physical copy of the songs that Afsky had replicated so brilliantly onstage. It was difficult to reconcile the diminutive and softly-spoken frontman with the fearsome singer spitting so much bile into the microphone just minutes before, although in some respects, this was the perfect representation of both the beauty and the ugliness paradoxically present at the heart of Afsky’s music. Om Hundrede År (or, In A Hundred Years, when translated, hopefully accurately, into English), is the band’s third full-length, following the well-regarded Ofte Jeg Drømmer Mig Død, and entrances the listener straight away with a classical intro, picked out fingerstyle on acoustic guitar. This immediately recalls any number of metal classics that commence in similar style, not least Metallica’s "Ride The Lightning" and "Master Of Puppets", and Iron Maiden’s "Seventh Son Of A Seventh Son", the band placing themselves in the company of masters, as well as affectionately acknowledging a well-worn tradition that deserves to be maintained. This introduction also serves to generate a level of intimacy, bringing the listener closer to music that deserves undivided attention, and in some respects suggests that there is no artifice here, that what follows will be totally authentic and utterly sincere.

As the delicate acoustic tones complete the coda that precipitates an avalanche of frigid minor chords, savagely tremolo-picked against half-time drums, a sparse, but full, tone thickened by a pleasingly audible bass, Afsky’s curious approach to black metal slowly reveals itself, a blurry image through a telescope gradually coming into focus. Although the band are ostensibly black metal in tone and approach, there is almost nothing that can be described as a conventional riff to be found, with the primary mode of attack revolving around baroque, long-form melodies subtly moving through a wall of sound created by the chromatically moving chords. Small changes in these guitar lines, as they repeat through numerous hypnotic phases become fascinating points of interest, and Afsky’s music demands total attention if these are to be fully appreciated. The note choices may be quite different, but the band’s songwriting is frequently reminiscent of Agalloch, seen through a storm of static. The overall effect on a track such as the opener, 'Stormfulde Hav' (Stormy Seas), is highly atmospheric, but atypically for black metal, not in the kind of externalised manner that bands such as Winterfylleth and Wolves In The Throne Room utilise to evoke scenes of wild and untamed nature. Instead, the landscape here is internalised, the steep mountainous crags and plummeting depths travelled an emotional journey through one’s own dreams and nightmares, unsettling and ecstatic in equal measures. Throughout this track, and much of the rest of the album, Afsky delight as they transform what is often a sad and mournful sound into something more triumphant, moving through major key progressions, and betraying a melodic sensibility that suggests an affinity with some of the key Swedish bands of the mid-late 1990s, most obviously Sacramentum, with a dash of Viking-pagan era Bathory. These changes in feel could be jarring in clumsier hands, but the transitions mostly feel natural and satisfying, and this is a testament to the skill of a band that utilise few moving parts to create a symbiosis way beyond what should be possible with such a simple approach.

‘Frosne Vind’ (Frozen Wind) follows a similar pattern to the opener, although it plumbs even more corruscating emotional depths, while also increasing the richness and complexity of the harmonic layers that build another slow-burn masterpiece. Luk’s vocals come very much to the fore here, his orc-like screech recalling Varg Vikernes on the early Burzum albums, a wounded, despairing howl that pierces the icy heart of the listener. Filosefem-era Burzum is, in fact, an apposite comparison for Afsky. Luk’s compositions are a little more sophisticated, and show a greater inclination to add classic metal phrasing to the guitar work, but the trance-inducing nature of the almost cyclical chord progressions is similar, as is the overall feeling evoked by the disconsolate atmosphere. Not for Afsky the individualistic majesty and power of Emperor or Immortal, or the necrotic filth of Darkthrone or Beherit. Instead, the band appear to operate in their own hermetically-sealed world of internal pain and suffering, with their music a cold reflection of an inner turmoil. ‘Frosne Vind’ is almost unbearably intense, as a tidal wave of minor chords threatens to set the listener adrift on a stormy sea, but an infectiously simple arpeggio provides a life-raft, a point of focus to hold on to as a route out of the roiling waters is found, moments before everything goes black.

Afsky are the sound of what this listener imagined Depressive Suicidal Black Metal (DSBM) might resemble, prior to a note being heard, and in some respects their music is more affecting than that niche and perhaps sometimes contrived form of the sub-genre. There is something unutterably uncompromising about Afsky’s music, a sense that not only is it something that they want to create, but that it is something that they need, an essential outlet for emotions that might become dangerous were they repressed. At no point is there any indication that they are making music with anyone but themselves in mind – any audience that they do have has found them, rather than the other way round, and no concessions are offered to anyone that might find the longform nature of their music difficult to swallow. At times, Afsky’s are almost overwhelmingly melancholic, the band wallowing in an overflowing pool of sadness, filled by a never-ending waterfall of sorrow. On the best track, 'Det Der Var' (What Once Was), a harpsichord melody is added to follow the guitars, which adds an intriguing texture to the band’s sparse, but all-encompassing sound, threatening a slightly more progressive future for the band. Small motifs are gradually added and subtracted as the track progresses, and, a little like Der Weg Einer Freiheit’s most recent effort "Noktvrn", Afsky develop a narrative that it is impossible not to follow, pulling the listener through to a breathless conclusion.

Despite the scintillating quality of every song on the album, one can observe that there is still scope for Afsky to improve further. The drum patterns, while not detrimentally affecting the songs, are occasionally monotonous, and a more dextrous and dynamic performance could add an additional dimension to the band’s sound. In addition, although the majority of the transitions between sections are well-managed, some are not quite as fluid as they might be, exposing the internal structure of the song a little too transparently, and it will be fascinating to see if the band can render those joins a little less visible in future, without losing the slightly lo-fi charm of their core sound. For the most part though, the small flaws are easy to ignore. Om Hundrede År is a wonderful, mesmerising album, and one which only improves with every listen. Small details, miniscule changes to guitar lines that appear on the surface to be simple, but in reality weave a circuitous path around the pounding rhythm section, continue to reveal themselves long after one believes oneself to have got the measure of the record, and it practically implores the listener to continue to return, in search of another heart-wrenching harmony, or vocal inflection. Typifying the ugly beauty of black metal, Afsky’s music is caustic and even awkward at times, but it contains a seductive majesty, an enchanting spell at its heart, that cannot avoid bewitching those who return to it to feel, once again, the unbreakable emotional connection that the album cannot help but forge.

Rating: 8.4 out of 10

Review by Benjamin on February 14, 2024.

There are relatively few albums in this listener’s collection that were purchased directly from the band. This one, however, was received directly from the hands of Ole Pedersen Luk, vocalist, guitarist and sole composer behind Danish black metallers Afsky, in return for some cold, hard British cash. Luk received his reward following an absolutely spectacular support slot with Panopticon, a performance good enough to render impossible the task of leaving the Boston Music Rooms (subsequently renamed Downstairs at the Dome) without a physical copy of the songs that Afsky had replicated so brilliantly onstage. It was difficult to reconcile the diminutive and softly-spoken frontman with the fearsome singer spitting so much bile into the microphone just minutes before, although in some respects, this was the perfect representation of both the beauty and the ugliness paradoxically present at the heart of Afsky’s music. Om Hundrede År (or, In A Hundred Years, when translated, hopefully accurately, into English), is the band’s third full-length, following the well-regarded Ofte Jeg Drømmer Mig Død, and entrances the listener straight away with a classical intro, picked out fingerstyle on acoustic guitar. This immediately recalls any number of metal classics that commence in similar style, not least Metallica’s "Ride The Lightning" and "Master Of Puppets", and Iron Maiden’s "Seventh Son Of A Seventh Son", the band placing themselves in the company of masters, as well as affectionately acknowledging a well-worn tradition that deserves to be maintained. This introduction also serves to generate a level of intimacy, bringing the listener closer to music that deserves undivided attention, and in some respects suggests that there is no artifice here, that what follows will be totally authentic and utterly sincere.

As the delicate acoustic tones complete the coda that precipitates an avalanche of frigid minor chords, savagely tremolo-picked against half-time drums, a sparse, but full, tone thickened by a pleasingly audible bass, Afsky’s curious approach to black metal slowly reveals itself, a blurry image through a telescope gradually coming into focus. Although the band are ostensibly black metal in tone and approach, there is almost nothing that can be described as a conventional riff to be found, with the primary mode of attack revolving around baroque, long-form melodies subtly moving through a wall of sound created by the chromatically moving chords. Small changes in these guitar lines, as they repeat through numerous hypnotic phases become fascinating points of interest, and Afsky’s music demands total attention if these are to be fully appreciated. The note choices may be quite different, but the band’s songwriting is frequently reminiscent of Agalloch, seen through a storm of static. The overall effect on a track such as the opener, 'Stormfulde Hav' (Stormy Seas), is highly atmospheric, but atypically for black metal, not in the kind of externalised manner that bands such as Winterfylleth and Wolves In The Throne Room utilise to evoke scenes of wild and untamed nature. Instead, the landscape here is internalised, the steep mountainous crags and plummeting depths travelled an emotional journey through one’s own dreams and nightmares, unsettling and ecstatic in equal measures. Throughout this track, and much of the rest of the album, Afsky delight as they transform what is often a sad and mournful sound into something more triumphant, moving through major key progressions, and betraying a melodic sensibility that suggests an affinity with some of the key Swedish bands of the mid-late 1990s, most obviously Sacramentum, with a dash of Viking-pagan era Bathory. These changes in feel could be jarring in clumsier hands, but the transitions mostly feel natural and satisfying, and this is a testament to the skill of a band that utilise few moving parts to create a symbiosis way beyond what should be possible with such a simple approach.

‘Frosne Vind’ (Frozen Wind) follows a similar pattern to the opener, although it plumbs even more corruscating emotional depths, while also increasing the richness and complexity of the harmonic layers that build another slow-burn masterpiece. Luk’s vocals come very much to the fore here, his orc-like screech recalling Varg Vikernes on the early Burzum albums, a wounded, despairing howl that pierces the icy heart of the listener. Filosefem-era Burzum is, in fact, an apposite comparison for Afsky. Luk’s compositions are a little more sophisticated, and show a greater inclination to add classic metal phrasing to the guitar work, but the trance-inducing nature of the almost cyclical chord progressions is similar, as is the overall feeling evoked by the disconsolate atmosphere. Not for Afsky the individualistic majesty and power of Emperor or Immortal, or the necrotic filth of Darkthrone or Beherit. Instead, the band appear to operate in their own hermetically-sealed world of internal pain and suffering, with their music a cold reflection of an inner turmoil. ‘Frosne Vind’ is almost unbearably intense, as a tidal wave of minor chords threatens to set the listener adrift on a stormy sea, but an infectiously simple arpeggio provides a life-raft, a point of focus to hold on to as a route out of the roiling waters is found, moments before everything goes black.

Afsky are the sound of what this listener imagined Depressive Suicidal Black Metal (DSBM) might resemble, prior to a note being heard, and in some respects their music is more affecting than that niche and perhaps sometimes contrived form of the sub-genre. There is something unutterably uncompromising about Afsky’s music, a sense that not only is it something that they want to create, but that it is something that they need, an essential outlet for emotions that might become dangerous were they repressed. At no point is there any indication that they are making music with anyone but themselves in mind – any audience that they do have has found them, rather than the other way round, and no concessions are offered to anyone that might find the longform nature of their music difficult to swallow. At times, Afsky’s are almost overwhelmingly melancholic, the band wallowing in an overflowing pool of sadness, filled by a never-ending waterfall of sorrow. On the best track, 'Det Der Var' (What Once Was), a harpsichord melody is added to follow the guitars, which adds an intriguing texture to the band’s sparse, but all-encompassing sound, threatening a slightly more progressive future for the band. Small motifs are gradually added and subtracted as the track progresses, and, a little like Der Weg Einer Freiheit’s most recent effort "Noktvrn", Afsky develop a narrative that it is impossible not to follow, pulling the listener through to a breathless conclusion.

Despite the scintillating quality of every song on the album, one can observe that there is still scope for Afsky to improve further. The drum patterns, while not detrimentally affecting the songs, are occasionally monotonous, and a more dextrous and dynamic performance could add an additional dimension to the band’s sound. In addition, although the majority of the transitions between sections are well-managed, some are not quite as fluid as they might be, exposing the internal structure of the song a little too transparently, and it will be fascinating to see if the band can render those joins a little less visible in future, without losing the slightly lo-fi charm of their core sound. For the most part though, the small flaws are easy to ignore. Om Hundrede År is a wonderful, mesmerising album, and one which only improves with every listen. Small details, miniscule changes to guitar lines that appear on the surface to be simple, but in reality weave a circuitous path around the pounding rhythm section, continue to reveal themselves long after one believes oneself to have got the measure of the record, and it practically implores the listener to continue to return, in search of another heart-wrenching harmony, or vocal inflection. Typifying the ugly beauty of black metal, Afsky’s music is caustic and even awkward at times, but it contains a seductive majesty, an enchanting spell at its heart, that cannot avoid bewitching those who return to it to feel, once again, the unbreakable emotional connection that the album cannot help but forge.

Rating: 8.4 out of 10