#belgianmetal — Public Fediverse posts

#ThursDeath this week is one man project GATEWAY from Bruges. This is some heavy, crushing shit from Belgium. What an LP this is. This is 'Galgendood' from 2023.

https://gatewayband.bandcamp.com/album/galgendood

Churning, galloping OSDM vibes on this, but also some black metal-esque screeching. 6 tracks of super cavernous, brutal death doom about blood oaths and bog bodies.

#metal #DeathMetal #Belgium #Bruges #BelgianMetal #doom #DeathDoom @HailsandAles @wendigo @rtw @guffo @AlfeeDee @c0m4 @Kitty @umrk @flockofnazguls @swampgas @nnenov @ttntm @Affekt

Emptiness, nothingness, absence, non-being: such evocations of negation abound in extreme metal, often justifiably given the visceral analogy between dense dissonance and existential dysphoria. Among the acts walking this walk, Belgium’s Emptiness proudly stalk, with the blurb for seventh full-length Nowhere Speaks explicitly stating that it is “entirely unconcerned with making its listener comfortable.” The group’s trajectory thus far has taken them from uncompromising blackened death into ever more ambient and experimental territory, where they first crossed into the AMG-verse via Jean-Luc Ricard’s 2014 TYMHM post on Nothing But the Whole, and returned in 2017 to send shivers down Grymm’s spine with Not For Music. The sudden pivot into French-sung, distortion-free Vide was no less disturbing for its quietitude, though it may have ironically alienated fans. Nowhere Speaks thus carries the weight of significant mystery: what form has Emptiness taken this time, and does it bear any connection to their past?

Nowhere Speaks sees Emptiness heap scorn over those who doubted them—this is all of Emptiness, and there’s nothing random about it. The album begins with this affirmation, picking up the riff that was cut-off midway from Nothing But the Whole’s closer “Lowland,” and carrying on (“Nothing But The Whole (Part 2)”). It ends with it too, final track “All For Nothing” lapsing into the malevolent soundscape of Nothing But The Whole’s first, “Go and Hope,” and stopping with similar abruptness—a synecdoche for the wider circularity that connects these two albums over a decade apart. This brings a weird closure to the former record, even as Nowhere Speaks’ ending perpetuates the unsettled and unsettling sempiternality. Emptiness’ self-referential horror doesn’t stop at album construction. In a direct mirror of predecessor Vide, which was recorded by each member in isolation and geographically distant, Nowhere Speaks was recorded live all at once in the studio. This reassembling works as a metaphor for this album’s sound, which reconstructs many of Emptiness’ elements in both familiar and unfamiliar ways.

Nowhere Speaks is the opposite of immediate; everything about it creeps. And it creeps inexorably, as certain as death. The dark melodies and restlessly stalking tempos (“Nowhere Speaks,” “Words to Wind,” “When the Whole Arrives”1) are only the half of it. Sometimes the music’s atmosphere incarnates as disso-death moodiness, (“Words to Wind,” “When the Whole Arrives”), sometimes as the blurriness of noisy atmo-black (“The Threat,” “One Must See All,” “All For Nothing”), sometimes as warped, static-scattered ambience (“Darkness Commands,” “Words to Wind,” “Next In Line”). Tremolos often feel almost warm (“Nowhere Speaks,” “All For Nothing”) until they aren’t (“Words to Wind”), and the stylistic incongruence between them and the electro-industrial edge that warps whispered growls creates an eerie tone throughout. The highest points are the culmination of these apparent inconsistencies, some new genre Emptiness have been crafting all this time—a pared-back blackened-death, dark ambient, groovy, and dissonant. It builds in the second act of “Words to Wind,” stalks with predatory grace at “When the Whole Arrives”‘s intro, and spreads insidiously in “Next In Line.” Emptiness pass through extreme metal and cloak elements in atmosphere, yet all this adds rather than subtracts tension and fearfulness.

These nuanced and unusual textures are intriguing, but they sometimes veer towards a mélange that’s too understated. Emptiness have absolutely nailed the vibe, and much of Nowhere Speaks does capitalise on the magical combination of pseudo-dissonant guitar, smothering dark ambience, and unusual compositional shapes. I can forgive the myriad interludes—some of which, particularly “Darkness Commands,” are excellent in their own right—which bleed in and out of the main songs. It’s the wavering vagaries in the midpoints and margins that threaten to fade too far into the background. The burying of instruments whilst nothing else drives a progression (“Nowhere Speaks,”); muffled voices and noise (“Words to Wind”), an immersion-breaking slide into the major (“Nowhere Speaks,” “The Clash of Forces,” “All for Nothing”). At least it sounds brilliant—all the layers distinguishable, the reverb a softness rather than an obstruction, the drums, vocals and guitars each having space to spook you.

Emptiness are evidently believers in the virtue of patience, answering the open question of Nothing But The Whole’s abrupt ending more than a decade after it was posed. Nowhere Speaks is no anomaly; give it time, and it spreads out like a great gulf of nothing.2 It may have taken many listens, but I’m now so immersed in the void of beautiful nothingness Emptiness have created, that it’s hard to remember I ever really had my doubts.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Season of Mist
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: July 17th, 2026

It’s been some time since Splendidula has visited these pages. The fearsome Carcharodon reviewed their sophomore record, Post Mortem, as a wee n00b long ago in 2018, wherein he saw glimmers of potential in the gothic doom metal. He didn’t cover 2021’s Somnus for unknown reasons, though I think he might have been pleased with the heavier post-metal inclinations that permeated the record. The years since then have been rough for this Belgian group, marred by the passing of several loved ones, including their bassist Peter Chromiak. Absentia emerges in the wake of these tragedies as a means to both express and confront this debilitating heartache and loss.

Chromiak’s absence is felt in the very essence of Absentia. Although drummer Joachim Taminau took up the bassist role, the burly bass presence from the prior two records is all but gone. Splendidula kept much of their gothic doom but, fittingly, chose to fill the void with another of metal’s most expressive subgenres—DSBM. Whereas Kristien Cools previously stuck to clean vocals (for the most part), she now becomes both beauty and beast, dividing her time between sorrowful singing and shrieking. She also leans on a couple of notable guest vocalists. Tim Yatras (Austere) adds blackened snarls and backing cleans to “Absentia,” followed by Aaron Stainthorpe (ex-My Dying Bride, High Parasite), who contributes his rumbling growls and velvety baritone to “Echoes of Quiet Remain.” These guest selections neatly encapsulate the two different aspects of Absentia.

Absentia by Splendidula

While much music (and art in general) is born from a place of grief, Absentia is practically synonymous with it. Underneath the stoic exterior lurks a raw torment that flares up whenever and however it wants. For example, “Donkerte” begins with despondent singing, but as the verse progresses, Cools’s voice escalates until finally a primal scream spills out. Later, the double-tracked cleans and screams give the impression of one putting on a brave face as anguish roils inside. When her voice dips into the lower ranges (particularly in “Absentia” and “Let It Come to an End”), it takes on a sort of nasally drawl which augments the mournful atmosphere, though this likely won’t appeal to everyone. Also like grief, sections of certain songs tend to linger for longer than one might like (“Echoes of Quiet Remain,” “Kilte,” “Absentia”).

Absentia musically conveys the importance of a healthy support system during times of grief. Though much hinges on Cools’s vocal performances, the other two members of Splendidula help to sustain her in subtle but important ways. During “Dalkuldar,” a forlorn respite from the turmoil, the snare rhythms and bass drum beats are akin to a bolstering drumline. The tempestuous percussion also heightens the sense of desperation in “Kilte.” Closing track “Let It Come to an End” flips the script, letting Cools take a backseat and bringing guitarist Guy Van Campenhout’s growls to the forefront, perhaps emblematic of leaning on loved ones during times of crisis.

In terms of emotional devastation, Absentia is as potent a record as you’re likely to find. Kristien Cools keeps improving with each release, and the compositions complement her increasingly diverse vocal styles well. The deeply personal nature of Splendidula’s work of art is both strength and weakness. The intense and authentic expression of grief is harrowingly beautiful, but in a way that seems impossible for an outsider to fully appreciate. Like attending a funeral for someone you didn’t know, it’s easy to empathize with those in mourning but difficult to feel the same deep personal connection. That said, the next time grief comes for me personally, I may be very grateful that I became acquainted with Absentia.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: splendidula.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/Splendidula
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026

In case you’re unfamiliar, The Epic of Gilgamesh is an ancient Mesopotamian poetic narrative, whose first complete form is dated to approximately 1800 BCE. It follows a story of King Gilgamesh and his dealings with gods and other mythic monsters, culminating in a journey for the secret of immortality.1 What better way could there be to consume this rich, literary epic than have it interpreted by the collection of artists behind From the Waters of Death? Obscure black/doom duo Swords of Dis; death metal veteran and experimenter Serpent Ascending; Neptunian Maximalism’s darker, heavier incarnation Ôros Kaù; and ambient-black dreamer Midnight Odyssey. All are infamous—if you know who they are—for their strange, unconventional styles and love for long-form expression that borders on the self-indulgent, which may make them ideally suited to a Gilgamesh retelling. You may already be experiencing a sinking feeling of dread at those name-drops. But together these artists achieve something that exceeded my expectations even as it met them squarely.

While appearing to be a split, Waters is more of a collaboration as each individual contributes vocal or instrumental talents across multiple songs, including on those they wrote and take the lead in themselves. Spearheading the whole thing are Richard and Alice Corvinus of Swords of Dis, who have a hand in all lyrics and appear on every track. These lyrics, inspired by the words of the epic itself, consist of narration interspersed with dialogue between the various characters, and the five musicians rotate and share roles depending on who is involved in the corresponding part of the story. 2 This improves the album’s internal coherence—which might otherwise be hindered in a split format—whilst also allowing each movement to take on the personality of its lead artist. As a form of adaptation, the five tracks of reverb-filled, noisy, strange, melodramatically or demoniacally vocally-led, black-adjacent fringe metal lean into the grand, frightening side to the tale whose gravity us modern-age folk probably can’t appreciate properly. And it’s that excessive, almost absurd commitment to being different, which—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—actually works.

From The Waters Of Death by SWORDS OF DIS

Drama is at the heart of oral poetic tradition, and it’s Waters’ drama that similarly grounds its best aspects. Utmost credit goes to Alice Corvinus and her fierce (“From Egalmah They Rode…”3, operatic (“Araru Births the Lord of the Wilderness,” “From Egalmah…,” “Blood Stains The Altar…”4), sometimes eerie (“Into the Wailing Darkness”5) vocal performance. Her presence dominates as she provides some narration in addition to voicing every female character (and there are a lot of goddesses involved). Dark, minor tremolo refrains and Middle-Eastern-inspired melodies support her delivery, and the theatrical, flowing style Swords of Dis employ lends itself to this expression perfectly. In a different vein, the inhumanly gurgling snarls of Guillaume Cazalet (Ôros Kaù) make for a barbed contrast to otherwise vague, even beautiful, passages (“Blood…”), and can be genuinely frightening (“Into The Wailing Darkness”). All vocals—clean or harsh—are odd to a degree, sometimes even off-putting (“Araru…”). Yet most breaches of the cringe line are brief, and ameliorated by interesting instrumentation (“Blood…,” “From the Setting…”6). Those totally averse to what we anaemically refer to as ‘avant-garde’ in extreme metal can beg to differ, but the back and forth between dissonance and harmony (“Araru…,” “Blood…”), and between uncomfortable slowness and sudden speed (“From the Setting…”), is not only well-performed, it makes sense for the record’s narrative concept. A journey represented through a monotonous pattern (“From Egalmah…,” “From the Setting…”), the fury of a deity by means of an operatic surge (“From Egalmah…”).

Waters embodies the manner of epic poetry so well, however, that its digestibility is harmed as well as helped. Whether appropriate or not, its near-90-minute runtime makes engaging with its entirety a daunting prospect, and this is a record that fares best when you do give it the time and space to immerse you.7 The very aptness of the compositional style—long repetitive sections on the one hand, and frequent switches between tempo, melody, and vocalist on the other—which mimics recitation amongst orators, can prove taxing. It creates a dynamic of brilliant moments and stand-out performances, scattered unevenly inside overextended filling. It’s perhaps not a coincidence that the album’s midsection—the two tracks led by masterminds Swords of Dis—is by far the best and most even in quality, whereas its final act—Midnight Odyssey’s—is the least engaging and unable to support its length.8

Though Waters cannot escape the idiosyncrasies of the artists behind it—and so inherently restricts its audience—as an expression of this epic poem, these approaches to black metal are surprisingly apt. If you have the time to go on this adventure with Serpent Ascending, Ôros Kaù, Swords of Dis, and Midnight Odyssey, there’s plenty to enjoy. But if nothing else, let it be an excuse to learn about the original myth that inspires such weird, sometimes wonderful music.

Rating: Good(!)
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger
Websites: Album BC | Serpent Ascending BC | Serpent Ascending FB | Ôros Kaù BC | Ôros Kaù FB | Swords of Dis BC | Swords of Dis FB | Midnight Odyssey BC | Midnight Odyssey FB
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

Acathexis – Immerse Review

By Kenstrosity

At the risk of making light of a serious situation, I’ve been on the struggle bus as of late. My mental health nosedived somewhere in late February, for what reason I still don’t comprehend, and it’s been a trial and a tribulation to claw my way back out. Needless to say, during this difficult time, I haven’t been the best person to be around—lashing out against even the smallest jest, forgetfully neglecting my friends when they message to check on me, and isolating myself from everyone and everything out of shame and embarrassment. You’d think that, in the midst of all of this, I would reach for something uplifting to compensate. Instead, I cling to emotionally dour and violently depressive material, as it brings me a specific and rare kind of catharsis. Serendipity bore a cosmic kindness to me, then, when it delivered international depressive atmoblack project Acathexis’ long-awaited sophomore record, Immerse, into my clutches.

After the immensely affecting self-titled debut released at the end of 2018, Acathexis rapidly became one of my more closely watched new acts. A dream team of Mare Cognitum‘s Jacob Buczarski (drums), Déhà (guitars, bass), and Los Males del Mundo’s Dany Tee (vocals, lyrics) comprises the talent, and melancholic black metal rife with weeping melodies and misty atmosphere makes up the content. Long-form epics are the band’s bread and butter, with expansive, tremolo-laden tidal waves crashing down on the listener with devastating impact. If you’re looking for straightforward riffing and pumping rhythms, you won’t find them here. You will, on the other hand, find a trove of soaring leads, smooth blasts and double-bass runs, and a cavalcade of soul-rending wails, heart-wrenching rasps, and subterranean roars.

Over the course of these four songs, spanning across fifty minutes, the wonderfully collaborative nature of Immerse becomes crystal clear. At every turn, a gorgeous, shimmering lead blooms from the record’s core, bearing a conjoined Déhà/Mare Cognitum imprint that lights up the spine (“Dreams of Scorched Mirrors”). Coursing through the record’s veins, an undercurrent of Silver Knife‘s scathing character coalesces with Slow‘s woeful melody that, in tandem with the aforementioned shimmers, forms a lush and deeply immersive soundscape which handily lives up to the album’s title (“Adrift in Endless Tides,” “A Slow, Weary Wind”). Dany’s simply unhinged delivery not only marks him as one of the best vocalists in the style, but also often elevates these songs to a higher tier, particularly when unleashing high-pitched howls that seem to contain the tortured cries of a thousand haunted spirits (“Dreams of Scorched Mirrors,” “The Other”).

Much of my critique for Immerse falls under the same umbrella as that garnered by the majority of atmospheric black metal: overly strict adherence to limited songwriting formulas. Primarily invigorated by Jacob’s brilliant rhythmic pacing and percussive creativity (note the cymbal acrobatics in “Adrift in Endless Tides”), Déhà’s uncanny merger of each player’s respective sounds into deeply affecting melodies and sweeps, and Dany’s haunting voice, a lot of this material unfortunately presents a generic interpretation of the genre. Songwriting frameworks that challenge the genre standards or move the field into new territory just don’t occur over much of Immerse’s runtime. Instead, Acathexis banked on emotional immersion, immaculate detailing, and expressive delivery from each performer to bolster material that otherwise feels homogenous (“The Other”) or sounds repetitive (“A Slow, Weary Wind”). This is a risky move when playing a style maligned for its lack of dynamics or creativity, and while Acathexis just pulled it off this time, I worry that future efforts won’t fare so well without more concerted effort allotted to robust, evolving songwriting approaches.

Despite my misgivings regarding the continued application of a well-worn set of songwriting structures in this genre, there are precious few I trust more to build it well than those in Acathexis. Immerse doesn’t challenge any standards, and certainly won’t convert any naysayers. At the same time, I consider this record a beautiful, harrowing piece of depressive music. Moreover, it came to me at just the right time to strike at the heart. So, even though Immerse isn’t the game-changing record it could’ve been, that tempered bond I formed with it ensures that even after the fog lifts and the sun shines again, I’ll come back to Immerse without reservation.

Rating: Good!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Labels: Amor Fati Productions (Physical) | Extraconscious Records (Digital)
Websites: facebook.com/acathexisband | acathexis.bandcamp.com
Releases worldwide: March 20th, 2024

#2024 #30 #Acathexis #AmericanMetal #AmorFatiProductions #ArgentinianMetal #AtmosphericBlackMetal #BelgianMetal #BlackMetal #Déhà #DepressiveBlackMetal #DSBM #ExtraconsciousRecords #Immerse #InternationalMetal #LosMalesDelMundo #Mar24 #MareCognitum #Review #Reviews #SilverKnife #Slow

Acathexis – Immerse Review

By Kenstrosity

At the risk of making light of a serious situation, I’ve been on the struggle bus as of late. My mental health nosedived somewhere in late February, for what reason I still don’t comprehend, and it’s been a trial and a tribulation to claw my way back out. Needless to say, during this difficult time, I haven’t been the best person to be around—lashing out against even the smallest jest, forgetfully neglecting my friends when they message to check on me, and isolating myself from everyone and everything out of shame and embarrassment. You’d think that, in the midst of all of this, I would reach for something uplifting to compensate. Instead, I cling to emotionally dour and violently depressive material, as it brings me a specific and rare kind of catharsis. Serendipity bore a cosmic kindness to me, then, when it delivered international depressive atmoblack project Acathexis’ long-awaited sophomore record, Immerse, into my clutches.

After the immensely affecting self-titled debut released at the end of 2018, Acathexis rapidly became one of my more closely watched new acts. A dream team of Mare Cognitum‘s Jacob Buczarski (drums), Déhà (guitars, bass), and Los Males del Mundo’s Dany Tee (vocals, lyrics) comprises the talent, and melancholic black metal rife with weeping melodies and misty atmosphere makes up the content. Long-form epics are the band’s bread and butter, with expansive, tremolo-laden tidal waves crashing down on the listener with devastating impact. If you’re looking for straightforward riffing and pumping rhythms, you won’t find them here. You will, on the other hand, find a trove of soaring leads, smooth blasts and double-bass runs, and a cavalcade of soul-rending wails, heart-wrenching rasps, and subterranean roars.

Over the course of these four songs, spanning across fifty minutes, the wonderfully collaborative nature of Immerse becomes crystal clear. At every turn, a gorgeous, shimmering lead blooms from the record’s core, bearing a conjoined Déhà/Mare Cognitum imprint that lights up the spine (“Dreams of Scorched Mirrors”). Coursing through the record’s veins, an undercurrent of Silver Knife‘s scathing character coalesces with Slow‘s woeful melody that, in tandem with the aforementioned shimmers, forms a lush and deeply immersive soundscape which handily lives up to the album’s title (“Adrift in Endless Tides,” “A Slow, Weary Wind”). Dany’s simply unhinged delivery not only marks him as one of the best vocalists in the style, but also often elevates these songs to a higher tier, particularly when unleashing high-pitched howls that seem to contain the tortured cries of a thousand haunted spirits (“Dreams of Scorched Mirrors,” “The Other”).

Much of my critique for Immerse falls under the same umbrella as that garnered by the majority of atmospheric black metal: overly strict adherence to limited songwriting formulas. Primarily invigorated by Jacob’s brilliant rhythmic pacing and percussive creativity (note the cymbal acrobatics in “Adrift in Endless Tides”), Déhà’s uncanny merger of each player’s respective sounds into deeply affecting melodies and sweeps, and Dany’s haunting voice, a lot of this material unfortunately presents a generic interpretation of the genre. Songwriting frameworks that challenge the genre standards or move the field into new territory just don’t occur over much of Immerse’s runtime. Instead, Acathexis banked on emotional immersion, immaculate detailing, and expressive delivery from each performer to bolster material that otherwise feels homogenous (“The Other”) or sounds repetitive (“A Slow, Weary Wind”). This is a risky move when playing a style maligned for its lack of dynamics or creativity, and while Acathexis just pulled it off this time, I worry that future efforts won’t fare so well without more concerted effort allotted to robust, evolving songwriting approaches.

Despite my misgivings regarding the continued application of a well-worn set of songwriting structures in this genre, there are precious few I trust more to build it well than those in Acathexis. Immerse doesn’t challenge any standards, and certainly won’t convert any naysayers. At the same time, I consider this record a beautiful, harrowing piece of depressive music. Moreover, it came to me at just the right time to strike at the heart. So, even though Immerse isn’t the game-changing record it could’ve been, that tempered bond I formed with it ensures that even after the fog lifts and the sun shines again, I’ll come back to Immerse without reservation.

Rating: Good!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Labels: Amor Fati Productions (Physical) | Extraconscious Records (Digital)
Websites: facebook.com/acathexisband | acathexis.bandcamp.com
Releases worldwide: March 20th, 2024

#2024 #30 #Acathexis #AmericanMetal #AmorFatiProductions #ArgentinianMetal #AtmosphericBlackMetal #BelgianMetal #BlackMetal #Déhà #DepressiveBlackMetal #DSBM #ExtraconsciousRecords #Immerse #InternationalMetal #LosMalesDelMundo #Mar24 #MareCognitum #Review #Reviews #SilverKnife #Slow

Acathexis – Immerse Review

By Kenstrosity

At the risk of making light of a serious situation, I’ve been on the struggle bus as of late. My mental health nosedived somewhere in late February, for what reason I still don’t comprehend, and it’s been a trial and a tribulation to claw my way back out. Needless to say, during this difficult time, I haven’t been the best person to be around—lashing out against even the smallest jest, forgetfully neglecting my friends when they message to check on me, and isolating myself from everyone and everything out of shame and embarrassment. You’d think that, in the midst of all of this, I would reach for something uplifting to compensate. Instead, I cling to emotionally dour and violently depressive material, as it brings me a specific and rare kind of catharsis. Serendipity bore a cosmic kindness to me, then, when it delivered international depressive atmoblack project Acathexis’ long-awaited sophomore record, Immerse, into my clutches.

After the immensely affecting self-titled debut released at the end of 2018, Acathexis rapidly became one of my more closely watched new acts. A dream team of Mare Cognitum‘s Jacob Buczarski (drums), Déhà (guitars, bass), and Los Males del Mundo’s Dany Tee (vocals, lyrics) comprises the talent, and melancholic black metal rife with weeping melodies and misty atmosphere makes up the content. Long-form epics are the band’s bread and butter, with expansive, tremolo-laden tidal waves crashing down on the listener with devastating impact. If you’re looking for straightforward riffing and pumping rhythms, you won’t find them here. You will, on the other hand, find a trove of soaring leads, smooth blasts and double-bass runs, and a cavalcade of soul-rending wails, heart-wrenching rasps, and subterranean roars.

Over the course of these four songs, spanning across fifty minutes, the wonderfully collaborative nature of Immerse becomes crystal clear. At every turn, a gorgeous, shimmering lead blooms from the record’s core, bearing a conjoined Déhà/Mare Cognitum imprint that lights up the spine (“Dreams of Scorched Mirrors”). Coursing through the record’s veins, an undercurrent of Silver Knife‘s scathing character coalesces with Slow‘s woeful melody that, in tandem with the aforementioned shimmers, forms a lush and deeply immersive soundscape which handily lives up to the album’s title (“Adrift in Endless Tides,” “A Slow, Weary Wind”). Dany’s simply unhinged delivery not only marks him as one of the best vocalists in the style, but also often elevates these songs to a higher tier, particularly when unleashing high-pitched howls that seem to contain the tortured cries of a thousand haunted spirits (“Dreams of Scorched Mirrors,” “The Other”).

Much of my critique for Immerse falls under the same umbrella as that garnered by the majority of atmospheric black metal: overly strict adherence to limited songwriting formulas. Primarily invigorated by Jacob’s brilliant rhythmic pacing and percussive creativity (note the cymbal acrobatics in “Adrift in Endless Tides”), Déhà’s uncanny merger of each player’s respective sounds into deeply affecting melodies and sweeps, and Dany’s haunting voice, a lot of this material unfortunately presents a generic interpretation of the genre. Songwriting frameworks that challenge the genre standards or move the field into new territory just don’t occur over much of Immerse’s runtime. Instead, Acathexis banked on emotional immersion, immaculate detailing, and expressive delivery from each performer to bolster material that otherwise feels homogenous (“The Other”) or sounds repetitive (“A Slow, Weary Wind”). This is a risky move when playing a style maligned for its lack of dynamics or creativity, and while Acathexis just pulled it off this time, I worry that future efforts won’t fare so well without more concerted effort allotted to robust, evolving songwriting approaches.

Despite my misgivings regarding the continued application of a well-worn set of songwriting structures in this genre, there are precious few I trust more to build it well than those in Acathexis. Immerse doesn’t challenge any standards, and certainly won’t convert any naysayers. At the same time, I consider this record a beautiful, harrowing piece of depressive music. Moreover, it came to me at just the right time to strike at the heart. So, even though Immerse isn’t the game-changing record it could’ve been, that tempered bond I formed with it ensures that even after the fog lifts and the sun shines again, I’ll come back to Immerse without reservation.

Rating: Good!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Labels: Amor Fati Productions (Physical) | Extraconscious Records (Digital)
Websites: facebook.com/acathexisband | acathexis.bandcamp.com
Releases worldwide: March 20th, 2024

#2024 #30 #Acathexis #AmericanMetal #AmorFatiProductions #ArgentinianMetal #AtmosphericBlackMetal #BelgianMetal #BlackMetal #Déhà #DepressiveBlackMetal #DSBM #ExtraconsciousRecords #Immerse #InternationalMetal #LosMalesDelMundo #Mar24 #MareCognitum #Review #Reviews #SilverKnife #Slow