Dirty DC death-doomers Ilsa are fucking vile.
I mean
that in the best possible way, of course, as their particular brand of
pummelling crust-meets-sludge-meets-death is a combination of just about
all my favourite things about metal, all presented in one putrescent
package. With much of their previous output sitting somewhere between
the down-tempo murk of 'Domination'-era Morbid Angel and Iron Monkey's
more breakneck tracks, excitement was high for the arrival of The Felon's Claw. It is just as horrible as I'd hoped.
Vocalist
Orion's death-rattle rasp proclaims the sentence, instantly damning you
to the darkness in opening banger 'Oubliette'. The
everything-in-the-red mix creates a claustrophobic atmosphere that,
given the title, is no doubt intentional, with a ripping solo around the
halfway point that is straight-up demented. They cram more energy and
filth into these opening 3 minutes than most bands manage across a whole
album.
The more morbid listener may recognise '25
Cromwell' as a reference to serial murderers Fred and Rose West, it
being the address at which they conducted most of their killings. That
their dwelling has since been demolished, with every timber burnt to ash
and every brick crushed to dust, speaks to the sheer evil of the acts
committed in that house.
The track itself is just as depraved and
violent as it's subject matter. Drummer Joshy pounds his kit like he's
in a bar brawl with it, each bass drum blow like a fist driven into
flesh, while the hyper-distorted riffs have all the impune swagger of
the uncaught killer.
You can keep your songs about Satan; this is the sound of true evil.
'Smoke Is The Ghost Of Fire' recalls the zombified lurch of many tracks on their
previous LP Intoxicantations,
the chugging riff thick and black as tar, while Orion's multi-tracked
howls are guaranteed to send shivers up the spine. The
mysteriously-titled 'Buried In The Bedrock And Concrete Of Our Cities'
doesn't cite any specific horror, which is almost more terrifying. The
distortion is so thick in the opening bars that you can barely discern
if there's a riff underneath it all, but some wonderfully organic blasts
and kick-drum work offer a recognisable rhythm to wreck your neck to.
Dirt
and discordance announce 'Pandolpho', before a raucous beer-crushing,
horn-throwing passage twists it into one of the catchiest tracks on the
record. However they don't maintain this momentum, with an extended doom
plod around the halfway point. This Frankensteining of the fastest and
slowest sections of The Felon's Claw together seems a bit
incongruous, but that's not to say that each half of the track isn't
fucking awesome. Following track 'Pass//Out' demonstrates a more
effective use of dynamics, with the band switching seamlessly between
skin-crawling atmospherics and fast-paced bludgeoning.
The
prowling bass of 'Enter The Void' begins a decrepit dirge which
seemingly slows with every second until it dispenses of rhythm entirely
in favour of feedback, before the opening riff returns, even deadlier
than before. By contrast 'Armstrong's Mixture' is as explosive as it's
titular chemical compound, an unrelenting crusty ripper that'll leave
your head either spinning or banging.
The interminable
torture of 'Katabasis' feels like a slow descent into madness, the
ever-decreasing tempo and smog-thick riffage continuing the dark
atmosphere of the opening track. The fact that the track is named for
the journey down into the Underworld taken by a number of mythological
figures, from Gilgamesh to Orpheus, and even Christ, will feel
appropriate by the time it draws to a close, and you are returned,
forever changed, to the land of the living.
The
suitably jagged 'Song Of The Saw-Blade' is as close as Ilsa come to
anthemic, the Swedeath vibe of the music underpinning Orion's repeated
roars of the track's title, making for a discernible chorus of sorts. By
the time the final repulsive notes ring out, you'll feel in need of a
hot shower. Possibly even some psychological counselling.
The Felon's Claw
might not be a huge progression of Ilsa's signature sound, but the fact
that they have a sound all of their own is a rarity in modern metal,
and this album sees them hone their skills to the point of deadly
proficiency. A terrifying trip through the darkest depths of death and
doom.
If you're Stateside, you can grab a copy on a variety of colourways direct from
A389 Records.
Those of a European or British locality would be best to snag it from
EvilGreed.
ILSA on
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This review originally appears over at Echoes & Dust...