Review by Carl on November 10, 2024.

As a teen throughout the 90s, I was a loyal reader of the Dutch Aardschok magazine, and I seem to remember that when the country of Italy was mentioned, there was always this attitude that no good metal came from the country until Lacuna Coil came around. Excuse me? Agreed, Lucuna Coil has a stunningly beautiful vocalist in Christina Scabbia, but that's about all the good I can say about them. But no good metal in Italy up until then? Bulldozer anyone? What about Necrodeath and Schizo? Ever heard of Raw Power maybe? And if you're not picky, I'd mention Deathrage too. Well, their first album, that is, because this one fucking blows cocks in the park.

While their debut album certainly had its merits if you didn't mind a kinda limited vocalist, their second album is a decidedly lesser affair. Their thrash metal somewhat in the vein of the later Bay Area stuff is played adequately, with some good riffing and decent solos on offer, but in its totality, this album gets torpedoed to hell by a total lack of speed. Everything on here exhibits the same pace as a geriatric man getting on the bus, and this builds up absolutely no tension at all. The best way to describe this is like fucking with a limp dick, it's not going to go anywhere special, and everybody involved knows it. Perhaps the intention was to do something similar to what Exodus did on "Impact Is Imminent" or Prong on "Beg to Differ", but those albums had riffs, songs, and ideas. What Deathrage has on exhibit here is closer to a severe case of a bad night's sleep than anything musically interesting, showing all the joy and energy of a visit to an old folks home. Agreed, on the B side of the album the speed goes up a little, but that does also not help matters a whole lot. Tracks like "Perfect Crime" and "This One's for Our Friends" (I bet they'll be really pleased with it) sound like a depressed AC/DC struggling with a painful lack of inspiration, while the band resembles more a washed-up cock rock act than anything else.

This album did not only see a change of pace but also a change of vocalist. Where the vocals on the first album were not optimal but certainly passable in context, this new guy sounds as if he's putting in his order at the butcher's shop. I don't think I've ever heard a vocalist phone it in like this. What's he doing? Having a leisurely talk with one of his aunts? Come on, dude, you're singing on a thrash album! Not a very good one, admittedly, but at least pretend as if you give a damn. I wouldn't be surprised if this guy delivered his lines by yawning them into a microphone because this dude sounds as if he's about to get up and go home mid-recording.

Granted, Deathrage's debut album wasn't a full-on orgy of demented velocity, but that album at least combined midtempo stomping parts with enough speedy menace to come out swinging like Mike Tyson with an empty bank account, and that's something that is certainly lacking on their second album. In short, this is some of the lamest stuff I've ever heard. The overall playing is actually way above decent, but they do absolutely nothing with it. In its totality "Down in the Depth of Sickness" sounds as if someone force-fed Accept a couple of fistfuls of downers and then sent them out to perform a set of Megadeth covers, but only the slow ones.

Do yourself a favor and take the title of my review as buying advice for this album. Even if someone offers it for free.

Rating: 4 out of 10

Review by Jeger on June 3, 2025.

There is no light here… Only the dimming of the once stark luminance that was yesterday and the void of tomorrow - a chasmic hollow that yearns for fulfillment - the plight of the depressed one. As he walks the days, asleep spiritually, yet awake in the physical sense, he finds that there’s little to no hope to be found; nothing rich to discover; only an upturning of the poisoned soil of perdition. Gasping for air within the dark, as if he’s drowning in a vast, cold sea - a speck of life forlorn to a forgetful God. This is more than thematics. This is the experience of the cursed ones and a lens into Hier Ist Kein Licht - the third independently released LP by Germany’s Arkuum… 

Atmospheric Post-Black Metal? As someone who’s grown quite fond of the PBM movement as of late, when I was submitted this record for review, I was intrigued. There’s simply no denying bands like Harakiri For The Sky and Fen whose remarkable adaptations for Black Metal, their contemporary and influentially nuanced vision of music that transcends typical genre classification, just demands admiration. So, here we have Arkuum - an enterprising collective envisioned by one Arkas, and from what I’m hearing out of their third LP, Arkuum is destined for a substantial future. The melancholy, like the greyest of days during the opening titular track; a fastening of depression’s loathsome crest upon your soul. The music is dreamlike, tranquil and desperate - a reflection of one’s innermost darkness. Huge distorted riffs with somber clean parts that lurk just beneath the surface like frigid water below an icy winter’s crust upon a desolate loch, ring with crisply lethal tones. 

Slow-burning to embers like the fading flames of a yearning hearth’s fire that barely warms the eve is the following track, 'Selbstentfremdung' during its opening moments. Temped tremolo riffs and segmented double-bass currents give way to ethereal guitar tones and feathered blast-beats. Really feeling it now; misery-drenched vibes akin to something off of a Depressive Black Metal record; something like Advent Sorrow’s “As All Light Leaves Her”. Toiling away within the crevices of your heart, dredging through the pit of your gut with every dismal passage. 

Hier Ist Kein Licht offers five epic album cuts that are all journeys within themselves. The album closes with 'Herz'. Letting go… Giving up. The fight is for the steadfast of heart and there’s simply nothing left. As if the preceding cuts weren’t depressing enough… Melodies that intoxicate; providing you with the courage to end it all, or to possibly reach an epiphany. Could it be that there’s a reason to go on? Could it be that this closing dirge is one of renewal? Doesn’t sound like it. This is epic suffering soundscaped by suspenseful guitar parts that hit like a straight shot of cortisol. Inducing the anxiety of a hundred panic attacks during the final moments of what’s been a pretty remarkable album. Hier Ist Kein Licht is a feat to be proud of, and as far as Arkuum is concerned, the grey azure is the limit. Hier Ist Kein Licht is an album that you will feel to your core. 

Rating: 8.2 out of 10