…and suddenly, with a cryptic howl, I am ripped from this plane of existence.
Torn by an unseen force and hurled into unconscious realities beyond the pillars of an unborn empire, tribal carnage unfolding all around in kaleidoscopic mantras of mania and menace. Tumbling, twisting (flailing) through the horrors I see the severed head of the crow, multiplying into a thousand black, lifeless eyes that stare dolefully at my descent before beaks crack open and spirals of glistening cockroaches pour out in fractal hypnosis. Insane anti-melodies and drone vomit gibber from disembodied lips and I think I can hear the wailing of matter itself, but it’s merely my own wretched voice whispering “nisi solis nobis scripsimus, nisi solis nobis scripsimus” ad infinitum as dreams of riding the tiger along Kali Yuga rake through my shattered mind. Sulfuric blast mayhem instigates itself as claws rip and shred at my pale flesh; the wraiths of eternity, haphazardly adorned in leering masks of their own facelessness, frantically scrabble and howl with synapse-snapping cadence for the one thing that can satiate the entropic nightmare. The one thing eternally plummeting out of their reach… Life.
Visions flash. A witch running in the black woods, multi-coloured clouds streaking in fast-forward. A burning bush. An eight-eyed goat. Crucifixion. Flames. Rushing, reeling, seeing myself tumbling though my own visions with religious fervour, noise reaching insane crescendo…
And then, I understand my place. Why my psyche is here, body rent and discarded in this ever-flowing maelstrom. This hellish hypnagogia. A monarch, spawned in chaos, to become one with chaos and transcend. To rule in chaos. To destroy in chaos. To be reborn in chaos. For that is the purpose, total integration and obliteration of any and all realms touched by life’s disturbing, depraved tones. To become one and nothing, wandering the ruins as they reform in grotesque eternal birth… propagating the arrival of an all new cyclic abyss.
…Oh fuck, sorry. Where am I again? Shit. I was listening to the glorious reissue of Spanish ritual black noise necromancers Black Earth‘s monolithic debut A Cryptic Howl of Morbid Truth. Originally unleashed in 2015, this thing is akin to imbibing ayahuasca in the middle of nowhere with some ancient desert tribe of satanic mystics and completely losing your fucking mind for a while. Utterly demonic… completely unmissable. It’s out tomorrow (November 9th) on stunning 12″ LP through Sentient Ruin Laboratories and Bestiarie. Sleep on it and be the embodiment of regret. Hails.
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