Review by Rosh on August 20, 2023.

I love how groovy the hard rock and early metal of the 70's was, you know? Like, there's so much blues rock to be found on those old LPs from the likes of Sabbath, Purple, Heep, BÖC, Budgie, Sir Lord Baltimore, etc., and it makes for something indispensable in metal's history! I can just imagine being enamored with those timeless tunes and their mighty riffs had I existed then, of course having to depend mainly on radio and vinyl to soak in the groundbreaking heaviness.

Now, when we think of where metal's come since then, traditional doom is usually seen as one of the more "retro" styles- fair, as it is arguably the oldest, being crunched into existence not long after Tony Iommi's happy accident at the factory. So, while doom metal as a distinct style had its first quantifiable "wave" in the 80's, it would always reflect music from less recently than most of the other quickly mutating strains of heavy metal at the time, which were more inspired by the NWOBHM (though there are some bands of that movement, too, witch find their general sound from the Sabs). But don't think it was all just the doom and gloom of the Birmingham boys that laid the basis for that stuff, either. Plenty of early metal and the psychedelic and acid rock before it was rife with occult, eerie, and counter-cultural themes.

Some traditional doom bands embrace that side of things more than others, though. Enter Purple Hill Witch, The Church Within's best endeavor since Lord Vicar, an enduring ensemble featuring the original singer of Count Raven, who themselves seem to be something of an antecedent for the winding riffs and, most obviously, the vocal approach of the Hill Witch. This 2017 effort, Celestial Cemetery, was my introduction to these fuzzy Norwegians, and from it, I have to say they're exceptionally good at making their brand of doom "levitate", breathing a more unconcerned, loose feel into their trippy approach; the style here is doom rock more in the sense of the mystical occupations of the earliest purveyors of heavy music than in the sense of a bleak and dying world, a clarification I always like to make when discussing what is declared as "doom metal."

And as such, there's a ton of fun to be had with the curiously cohesive and focused material here. It doesn't feel so much like a deliberate choice in the songcraft department as it does a byproduct of their writing style. They can pull off rocking segments that seamlessly switch to eerie passages with the same apparent weightlessness of the fiery smoke filling the clear, blue sky on the cover painting, while retaining all of the thickness of that reddish skull cloud. Opener "Ghouls in Leather" does so in the very sequence described, for after a somber intro complimented by keyboards and then a fist-pumping power chord pickup, it puts forth an incredibly mysterious and supernatural riff that simultaneously sounds strangely inviting and friendly in a cartoonish sort of way, perhaps conjuring images of the ghosts of lost loved ones. The title track reverses the order of these elements, beginning eerily before scooping the listener up into a caravan of trilled, meandering riffs and emphatic rhythm bound for celestial mind-molding. Other tracks like the doomy but anthemic "Harbinger Of Death" and the feel-good "Around The Universe" are less complex and feel more geared towards accessibility, making for a balanced set of songs.

Genuine foreboding is saved for "The First Encounter", but after its doomed break, the tempo picks up for a bouncy outro before the lighter finale of "Burnt Offering", a solid song marred by a somewhat aimless and overlong closing guitar solo. At any rate, I find the 39-ish minutes of accessible doom here to be not only quite enjoyable but remarkably crafted overall, precisely because it feels more jammed out than actually "crafted." Not to mention, the puffy, warm guitar and bass tone really sells Celestial Cemetery as recapturing the bluesy heaviness of the late 60's and early 70's, and yet it all feels so original and unique that I can hardly believe I'm thinking of it as a "modern" classic.

And to reiterate, part of that uniqueness might be because this band has enough queues from the likes of Count Raven, Pentagram, and Place Of Skulls to feel right at home in the traditional doom soundscape as well. Actually, I've been hungry for new Count Raven for a while now, and I mainly turned to Lord Vicar to scratch that itch, but that band is a notch more solemn than Raven, while Purple Hill Witch is a notch less. Nonetheless, they're still entirely their own entity and don't truly need to be compared to anyone, for they were quite the nice find, making their way onto my radar rather abruptly and having stuck with me since hearing them. As such, I could name drop the band members and provide all the superfluous background information that I usually do, but I'll just let you look up all that stuff at your own behest, because the music on Celestial Cemetery really is best to just groove your way into. Now if you'll excuse me, I've gotta go check out this band's debut next...

Rating: 9.2 out of 10

Review by Dominik on August 29, 2025.

Imha Tarikat — which translates from Turkish roughly as "Sect of Annihilation" or "Brotherhood of Destruction" — has been haunting the black metal landscape for nearly a decade now. Judging by the absolute silence on Metal Archives, they might as well have been playing in a locked basement the whole time. The fact that their profile remains untouched by reviewers is either proof of criminal neglect or evidence that true annihilation begins with being ignored. Either way, that silence deserves to be broken, because the band has been steadily releasing quality albums, and with "Confessing Darkness" they've delivered another convincing work. It's their most aggressive, their most vulnerable, and without much doubt their most memorable and strongest statement so far. Before I come to some specifics, let's do a quick recap of what makes Imha Tarikat stand out in a sea of countless black metal outfits.

Much of what sets the band apart comes down to Kerem Yilmaz, the project's mastermind, who handles guitar, bass, and — most importantly — vocals. His bass lines serve their purpose well, but the guitar work often strays from black metal convention. He threads in peculiar melodies, rather than endless tremolo storms, at times traditional heavy metal riffing, and the occasional solo that feels almost out of place in the best way. What really makes the band stand out, though, is his voice. Yilmaz's vocals don't sound like the usual distant shriek or black metal nagging. His tonality has an underlying hardcore spite that makes every line sound like an order barked at you personally. Sometimes it's drill sergeant or a mad-eyed general who shouts at invisible troops while recording, sometimes the pitch is more of a rabid dog, but it's always unmistakable.

"Confessing Darkness" is an interesting album as it covers a wide emotional range — though, rest assured, these are black metal emotions, not anything you'd find in a Katy Perry chorus. For newcomers, tracks like "Excellent Grief" or "Pitch Black Reflection" are safe entry points. They're among the most accessible here, if "accessible" can apply to music that sounds like your drummer is either possessed, on the verge of getting a cardiac arrest, or just having the worst day of his life. He is driving the songs, while the guitars tear ahead, always ready to weave subtle melodies into the songs, and the vocals convey anger and grief in equal measure. "Pitch Black Reflection" in particular earns its title. However, here reflection means less "quiet self-examination in the darkest corner of your sacrificial lair" and more "screaming obscenities at your own mirror until it cracks".

Still, the album isn't all pure aggression. In some songs we find a kind of inherent vulnerability which surfaces in tracks like "Another Failed Ritual" or "The Day I Died (Reborn Into Flames)". The former begins with a sorrowful guitar motif before the drums erupt into chaos and go berserk, then shifts into riffing that blends black metal's ferocity with a sense of resignation or even helplessness. By the end, a surprising guitar solo lifts the song, while Yilmaz's vocals never let you forget that you signed up for a black ritual gone wrong. "The Day I Died (Reborn Into Flames)" is a deceptive beast and takes longer to reveal its emotional core. On the surface, it's fast as fuck and punishing, but its hypnotic rhythm and repetition pulls you in until you realize you've been trapped inside its realm of flames all along.

Also, the rest of the album can convince and balances between these "poles". The title track, at over seven minutes, avoids bloating by morphing constantly. The first minute – for the lack of a better description - starts almost like a bizarre jazz interpretation of black metal, before tumbling into another maelstrom of aggression, then veering back into passages that mid-song sound as if the band has lost their minds — and possibly the song structure — halfway through. "Horns In The Smoke" is another highlight. It thrives on the contrast between delicate melodic touches in the guitars and the drummer's relentless drive to reduce his kit to splinters.

In a genre that often suffocates under its own limits, Imha Tarikat manages to bend black metal without breaking it and to stay fresh without betraying the genre's essence. No gimmicks, no avant-garde detours, just a willingness to inject some vulnerability and oddity into the familiar blast-and-shriek formula. "Confessing Darkness" is proof that the sect of annihilation still has plenty to destroy, and the release has enough personality to avoid becoming another anonymous corpse in the genre's mass grave.

Rating: 8.4 out of 10, because that's what you sign up for, when you join a sect of destruction. The missing 16 points were willingly annihilated.