At the heart of winter --- Immortal --- 1999 (Osmose)
Reviewed by guest reviewer
Buzz Killington
(For those of you not familiar with him, or Family Guy, here he is in action)
That's right. I'm sure he'll be right at home with this. Well, time for me to take a well-deserved break. I'll leave you in Buzz's capable hands. Buzz?
Thank you Trollheart. You know, when I heard Trollheart was running Metal Month II I said to myself (for I often talk to myself; 'tis the only way to get intelligent conversation! Oh ho ho but no, I jest, I jest!) I said, Buzz, (for 'tis my name), Buzz, you should get involved in that. After all, I was a metallurgist for nigh on forty years, and my father before me, and his father before him, and so on. You get the picture, I trust? Ah yes: be it nickel, gold, silver or iron, there's few metals I haven't dealed with, sold, mined or examined. This should be fun!
Immortal. Why that sounds like a fine name for a troupe of musicians. I think I can confidently predict that we will be hearing songs of a
devotional nature --- hymns, psalms, choral voices --- oh dear! I do hope there aren't too many male sopranos in this band! I do
so hate male sopranos. Wretched things. Still, none of these chappies in the picture that comes with this recording look like they would sing that high. In fact, they look a little rough for a choir. Hmm. All that long hair and leather. Now why would...?
Ah yes! Of course! They must be acting out a play --- a ballet perhaps, or an opera. Oh my stars I
do hope it's an opera! There's nothing I like better than a good nine-hour opera, preferably in Italian or German. Bliss! Perhaps this concerns the fate of those dread cities Sodom and Gomorrah? Yes, yes: that would explain the outlandish garb these fellows are wearing, and the scowls on their faces. First rate. I'm sure this will be most enjoyable.
Now, let me see. One apparently inserts the strange disc into this slot --- oh look at that! It's going in as if there were a small man inside pulling it in! Is there a small man? A question, perhaps, for another time. But now some lamps are lighting up on the side of this contraption and I believe the “com-pact disc”, as they call it, is ready. All I need do is press this button marked “play” and the music should issue forth, soothing my weary soul. While we wait for that to happen, let us investigate exactly what it is that we are about to listen to. Hmm. The note with this recording says it is something called “black metal”. Hmm. Well that's obviously poppycock. I can see with my own eyes that this strange flimsy disc – which hardly looks likely to be able to hold one music-hall ditty, let alone six, as I see printed here it says there are --- is clearly silver, not black! What an oversight. Must be a typographical error. Which reminds me, I know quite the humourous story about a typesetter and three ducks in old Saxony... ah but no time, for lest my ears deceive me the music is start ---
Oh no wait. That can't be right. I must have done something wrong, do forgive me. It sounds as if the machinery is trying to eat the disc. Let me just see if I can stop it --- ah yes! Peace ensues. Now, if I can just get the disc thingy back out ... hmmm. Not as easy as it looks, you know. That slot into which said disc disappeared but moments ago is very narrow, and I cannot get my fingers inside. Perhaps if I seek a utensil from the kitchen? Ah, capital idea, Buzz! Capital! Excuse me just one moment.
(While we wait for Buzz to return, here is some music...)
Now then, let's see. This fork should have that thing out in a jiffy .... confound and blast it! How is one supposed to extract the thrice-damned thing? Think, Buzz, think. Perhaps one of these buttons ... Oh dear me no! That just started the whole cacophonous mess off again. I do hope the recording is not damaged. Wait a moment! This one is labelled REJECT. Perhaps I can ... huzzah! Success! Here comes our disc, and it seems not to be damaged one whit. Capital! Now, let me re-insert it and push “play” again and ... oh heavens! That same horrid noise! What is wrong with the blessed contraption?
Just one moment! Was that a voice I heard? Can it be ... is it possible ... can this be the actual recording? This does not sound very pastoral to me at all! You know, I really believe that IS the singer. And he's quite an angry chap, isn't he? I wonder if his butler forgot to lay out his favourite slippers this morning? I know that certainly makes me angry. I've been known to use all sorts of foul language: blast, damn, even ... bloody! Yes I know, but it really annoys me when that happens. I just lose all control.
I think this boy needs a good throat lozenge; he sounds positively hoarse. And the chap on the guitar: bless him, he is trying but he sounds like he only recently purchased the instrument and has not yet learned to play it quite how it should be played.
Do-re-mi, young fella me lad! It all stems from that. Perhaps you should have attempted a nice polka or minuet before trying this advanced stuff? Mind you, I'm not one to criticise, but the chap on the drums doesn't seem much better. Oh dear. Perhaps they were short on money and could only afford cheap equipment. They should have asked me to help out: I still have my spoons up in my study. You never lose the knack, you know!
Well now let's see. According to these ... what do they call them in the business? “Liner notes”. Yes that's them --- according to them, this first song is called “Withstand the fall of time”. Well, if my hat withstands this without collapsing I'll be quite a surprised man. It really
is very loud, is it not? How can one play such music without disturbing the neighbours and making a scene? Surely the constable would have to be called? My seat on the board of governors at the city university would be most in jeopardy, were I to listen to this sort of caterwauling. Oh dear me, yes. What have we next?
“Solarfall”. Well that's just silly, isn't it? The sun is way up there in the sky. It can't fall. God wouldn't allow it. Probably break into a million fragments. Tut. You would imagine these chappies would at least write about things that could
happen. Ah, that reminds me of a rather interesting story about a bridge... no wait, where are you going? Ah yes, but it's a
suspension bridge in my story. Thought that would make a diff --- you're still leaving? Oh I see! It's this terrible music that causes your sudden and most expeditious departure. Well I can't say that I blame you. This is certainly not what I studied for ten years for! Have yet to even hear about zinc, copper or even tin! Black metal, indeed!
Ah yes. Here finally is some nice soft guitar and a rather nice atmopsheric ... oh dear. Seems the singer fellow is all upset again. Why I bet that lazy chambermaid of his hasn't cleaned the hearth out and set a nice roaring fire in the grate. Grounds for dismissal, my dear fellow, believe me. Give these wogs an inch and they'll take a mile. Deal with it at the root: plenty more slaves – I mean, servants --- out there, desperate for work at below minimum wage. That's it: he seems happier now. Delighted to be of service, old chap! We men must stick together, what? Next thing you know, they'll be looking for the vote! No, no but I jest: of course such a thing would be ludicrous in the extreme.
Well these boys certainly have energy, I'll grant them that. They must eat a hearty breakfast every morning. Cornerstone of the day, breakfast. Nice bowl of hot porridge, some orange juce, grapefruit. Breakfast of champions. I find I rather like the guitar interlude in the midst of “Tragedies blows at horizon” --- surely that's bad grammar, boys? Tsk tsk! Didn't you learn anything at Harrow? Pleasant in a sort of homicidal way I suppose. I'm told that guitar near the end is reminiscent of Pink Floyd. Not that I would know. I have never even seen a floyd, let alone a pink one. Oh dear! That boy
will do some serious damage to his throat if he does not stop growling like an animal. What's his name? Let's see: Abbath Doom Occultas. What an odd name.
I believe I'll just call him Abby. Ah yes. I knew a wonderful woman called Abby once, back in my youth. Borrowed a hundred pounds from me. Still waiting for her to return it, but I know she will. It's only been twenty years. Silly women! Forget their pretty heads if they weren't stuck on their pretty necks. Ah, me. More nice guitar to open, um, let me just get my glasses, light fading you know ... um ... oh my! “At the heart of winter.” That, I believe, is also what this disc is called. Ah yes. I believe this is what they call in the parlance a “title track”. Oh my. I feel like one of those dick jockey fellows. What's that? It's
disc jockey? Dick jockey is something
quite different? I see.
Anyway, this is nice and I believe “ambient” is the term that is used. Ah but then the poor lads get all annoyed and angry again. One would wonder what it is that raises their ire so? Perhaps they have not heard any good stories about ... oh very well. No more stories about bridges. I promise. What about looking at some nice etchings, eh? My word! You
are hard to please, are you not? Well this is quite loud and aggressive is it not? I think I may have to pour myself a fortified wine to relax me...
(Buzz does not see an unidentified hand drop a tab of acid into his drink. Five minutes later...)
OHH FUCK YEAH! HEAVY METAL! BLACK METAL! FUCK ME! YEAH YEAH YEAH! THIS IS THE SHIT! YOU WANT SOME? YOU WANT SOME YOU FUCKER? WHAT THE FUCK YOU LOOKIN' AT? YOU WANT MY HAT? YOU WANT MY FUCKIN' HAT YOU COCKSUCKER? COME TRY AND TAKE IT THEN YOU PIECE OF SHIT! YOU CUNT! YOU MOTHERLESS FUCK! YEAH YOU BETTER FUCKIN RUN! I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE FUCKIN' EIGHT YEARS OLD! I'LL KICK YOUR ASS! GET THE FUCKOUTTA HERE! HEAVY METAL! BLACK METAL! PRAISE SATAN! HEADBANG! HEADBANG! FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKYEAHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(Some time later, Buzz awakes in a hospital bed with no memory of his attempted attack on the eight-year old niece of his boss, and facing some pretty serious criminal charges, not least of which is the possession of a Class A drug. It may be some time before we hear from him again. If we're lucky.)
Trollheart says: I quite enjoyed this album. For a Black Metal record there was a lot of melody, some great ideas and the vocal, though harsh, didn't grate upon me that much at all. The playing was pretty much first rate all the way through, and even verged on the introspective at times. I'll probably have a listen to some more of their albums at some point.
Now, what ward did they say Buzz was in? What? No visitors? Declared dangerous and unstable? Just sits there starting into space with a mug of cocoa in his hand? Hmm. Perhaps I'll just send flowers. And a picture of a bridge, of course.
