Artist: DevilsHarvest
Title: est.IV:XX
Type: Album
Label: Self Released
Well this is a ‘I know absolutely nothing about them’ review. DevilsHarvest were brought to my attention by the redoubtable Outlaws Of The Sun blog and review site 9check it out, incredible site, such passion for the music) and thought…”Well that sounds fucked up enough to give it a go…” So It did, And it is.
The project is powered by one Johnny Rumble and is merrily described as ‘doomsaw sludge’ and also features a whole bunch of guest appearances (though except for Sithter and ex-Church Of Misery singer Hiroyuki Takano they are outside of my area of knowledge, sincere apologies)
‘魔煙の奥底で散れ’ opens the can of worms in slow, echoing style. Bass notes so low and distorted only bands like Burning Witch or Corrupted might tough them. This is sludge absolutely dragged through tar. A weird ‘melody’ smears the top of the sound like scum and the vocals slide, ghastly and insane, from somewhere back in the tunnels. It’s a slow motion, horrible sound in the best Khanate kind of way. FUBAR music. And damn three minutes into the twelve minute opener and I’m hooked like a big black slug being pulled from the sewer. The guitar is discordant, the atmosphere dark and dank but the riff is utterly compelling teetering on drone and ultra heavy death/doom and repulsively slippery.
‘Tombstone Tourist’ is a little…er… lighter. A monomaniacal riff for a couple of minutes until a strange, almost bright glaring rise in the guitar appears. It’s haunting, truly, like suddenly having a vision in a bleak, foggy place and then the speed is let loose and that riff is just insanity; heads down driving uncarin what is in its path. Absolutely mesmerising stuff. Teitanblood, or old, old Celtic Frost slowly squeezed through a drone filter. Beautiful and ugly and impossible to look away from.
‘On The Devil’s Playground’ has a sinister spoken intro before the song kind of bends, twists and somehow breaks. The way the melody winds against the riff, the way tempos shift and veer and return is as though you are hearing the sound of a presence that has been utterly cribbled in some crash and though it walks and dances it jerks in ways that are plain wrong. We even get the touch of an almost normal melody creeping through here and there but with the debris if moves though it still sounds wrong. Post rock if it was dumped in a vat of toxic doom and drone spillage. Its pretty darned cool as..
‘Daughter Of Horror’ is an almost fifteen minute song, opening with an extended sample from, I assume, the film of the same name, a dialogue free film with a narration in this version about one night in the mind of an insane woman made in …1955. Never seen it (though by the time you read this I might have done). But the song is the kind of horror that should bring an evil glint to thhe eye of Khanate fans like myself. Curdled vocals, monstrously slow riff if you can even call it that. Words bent, sounds wrung out of every drop of malice they contain. And then just the guitar in one channel….then the other…. nothing else. It has you turning this way, then that. It’s truly disturbing when the spoken word begins once more. Without images the mind gapes and every nightmare surges in. Honestly the most fucked up piece I’ve heard since Khanate last spewed up their tar upon the world. It is relentless, ghastly music. Too much? I’ll let you know when the nightmares begin. Damn. Definitely not for the feint of heart…
‘AsMadAsHell’ is another deeply film rooted horror. This time the classic, famous monologue by the infamous character Howard Beale from Network. Hero. Anti-hero. Mad man exploited for money? Speaking truth. You know the speech. I’m as mad as Hell and I’m not going to take this any more…. and the bass line blurs as the riff sppeds with that maniacal energy. It has been used in songs more than a couple of times but this is so well used, pushing an obsessed riff through a maniacal rant. Its glorious.
We also get two bonus tracks; ‘Indica/Sativa’ and ‘Frequently’. The former another ten minutes. Illicit weed cultivation, throbbing, slow bass. Repetitive, hypnotic, nod inducing music, the latter shocking with light notes sprinkling the intro and you mind waits for the riff to crush. And it never does. Compared to what came before this is a moment of genuine, wry humour I feel and actually a perfect ending as you are finally allowed back into the light, blinking and hoping the previous horrors recede.
No this is not an album or music for everyone. But what is, eh? This is dark, in places genuinely disturbed and disturbing doom, drone and pitch black sludge. It is put together so well, with the focus of a madman writing on walls and eating slugs.
It’s fucked up but exemplary. Approach with caution but if it sounds up your street then you need to take a peek at least.
Gizmo
Walking The Liminal Space 