Genre : Drone Black Metal
Label : Profound Lore Records
Origin : United States
Rating : 9.0
Buy it now
Jef - with a single "f" - Whitehead, A.K.A Wrest is the central figure of American black metal one man band Leviathan, in which he is responsible for all vocals, lyrics and instruments. This release has a rather unique character to it, because it was conceived after / during Whitehead underwent a stormy period of personal experiences, and you can allegedly tell the same about his ex-girlfriend. Noise Shaft openly despises physical violence and finds art an acceptable place to portray it in AND lock it in, and, also a place to get rid of all real life desire - if there is any - to exercise violent acts. Why do I say this, you ask. Here is why : according to Wikipedia, quotation starts : "Jef Whitehead was charged with criminal sexual assault and aggravated domestic battery on 9 January 2011 and held on $350,000 bond after allegedly attacking his girlfriend and raping her with tattoo tools. Whitehead was released after the bail was dropped to $100,000."
Beyond considering physical violence unacceptable, semi-worthless critics has no business nor function offering opinion on the matter, because it would necessarily be one to be resonated from a self-claimed "higher moral ground" that is more about the person who is standing on it than about the circumstances he is offering his impressions about. Only the ex-girlfriend, Wrest, and God knows what actually happened for real, and all other beings should probably be confident that everyone will get what they have sculpted for themselves, in the long run. The mills of God are grinding slowly. But they ARE grinding. With that, I see no need to add further thoughts to the legal connotation, but still remain super-curious of the black metal music Jef Whitehead came up with while living the real life turmoil the content has been recorded in. Ladies and gents, let's talk about the music.
True Traitor, True Whorror sounds significant, sick, massive, brittle, ugly, disgusting, interesting, deranged, unhinged and most importantly, rampant. One thing is guaranteed : you won't be able to get away with the actual lyrics-, in fact, not with a single proper word of those - that Wrest is voicing through 342342423234 effect processors, but it is not primarily important, not for this moment. The lyrics will be something to behold upon their release, but Whitehead really would have to be super-unwise to condone violent/threatening lyrics on an album while facing a series of trials. The titles of the tracks are indicative of violent acts on their own, so that should be sufficient enough to defend against at the court, I imagine.
The music on this disc is bubbling with a possessed kind of intensity, that which is definitely not a very positive kind either, to say the least. Wrest is giving away intentionally thin, - production wise - yet efficient cracked-voice rants about fucks knows what, but you can clearly hear and UNDERSTAND the mere INTENT behind the register he is delivering the vocals in, and there is no doubt in you at all that this register is serving exclusively bad news for you all day long.
What I especially enjoy about this release, are the compositions themselves, and the album's brutally intimate production values : the LP sounds insipidly - in a good way - real and vile, and Whitehead did a superb job at parking the instruments around in the builds at attentively researched places to create efficient sonic functions. Track number 6, called "Every Orifice Yawning Her Price", for example : notice the guitars in this track : they are only as prominent as to make you cautiously acknowledge/feel their presence, and, when you move in closer to flatter their meaning, it is evident that they are here to suck your soul out through your eyeballs, too, which is the least efficient way to start a day.
A keen readiness to offer flamboyant variation is a focal trait of this rascal threatparade : Wrest, fortunately enough, is not one to sabotage cavalcade for too long, instead, he is riding on a pretty constant capacity to affect/shock you proper with the consecutive pattern structure. Mark 3:40 in the opening track, called True Whorror, for instance : a terrible vortex of inhuman voices and wailing guitars invade your receptors, and you have lost that particular war before deciding to wage it. Or track 3, called "Brought Up to the Bottom" : the siren effect is "just" discomforting, but the central riff of the initial sequence takes a deep breath and pulls backwards just to thrust forward and vomit fire on you in the next moment. The album features a twisted sense of lyrical qualities and moods, as well : this very same track reaches a conclusion that revolves around three sorrowful, morose chords that simultaneously assuage and provoke the monstrosities they are witnessing their movement in the vicinity.
It is without any doubt at all that this release is fueled by real deal-, top of the heat creative forces, and the personal experiences that have invited those, are not something I feel the need to offer a necessarily incompetent judgment upon. Let's hope that Jef Whitehead will keep his demons exclusively in his music, because they are looking pretty good in that place, while they would necessarily be pestilence and disease if released any other way. With its superb, garage-charm-intimacy production values and a relentless intent to bully your receptors around in an inventive, exigent and meticulously sculpted fashion, True Traitor, True Whore reeks musical significance all the way through, and I like it.
Rating : 9.0 / 10
If you want, check out my music
and / or
Buy me beer.
No comments:
Post a Comment