#hexvessel — Public Fediverse posts

Born of the ashes of former project Messenger, UK post-rock duo Liminal Sky, comprised of Jaime Gomez Arellano and Daniel Knight—and featuring Mat McNerney (Hexvessel, ex-Beastmilk), Kristoffer Rygg (Ulver), Anders Møller, Karin Park (Årabrot), Daniel O’Sullivan, Lars Horntveth, Alicia Nurho, Tore Ylwizaker, Ole Alexander Halstensgård, and Matt Rozeik—represents the next chapter in Arellano’s and Knight’s creative vision. Occupying a desolate space in the post realm that I haven’t covered in an official capacity since Latitudes dropped Part Island, upcoming debut All Tomorrow’s Darkness struck me in much the same way. Beautiful, inconsolable, tender, and graceful, Liminal Sky tugged at my heartstrings and called to my spirit.

An emotional and loving affair, All Tomorrow’s Darkness owes its gravity and poignancy to primary vocalist and lyricist Mat McNerney, impassioned by the recent loss of his mother. While it’s very clearly heard in McNerney’s vocal delivery across the record, Liminal Sky’s songwriting too reflects that heartbreak with crystalline clarity. Especially in their longer form compositions (“In Some Secret Universe,” “Algebra of Unknowing,” “All Tomorrow’s Darkness”), sweeping arcs and delicate plucked melodies inform the shape of mourning, of catharsis, of release, and of loss that All Tomorrow’s Darkness embodies. Its more energetic cuts (“A Solitary Future,” “Forget Me Not”) don’t disturb that shape, but rather recontextualize it as if to emphasize the unpredictable nature of grieving. As a whole, All Tomorrow’s Darkness represents a highly intelligent, deeply thoughtful, and highly resonant experience that offers its heart to those who would hear it, in the hopes that they would hold it with warmth and understanding.

Nowhere is this intimacy more effectively conjured than in centerpiece “Penance,” featuring Karin Park’s soothing croon. It is a stunning work, reminiscent of White Ward and Latitudes at their softest, but especially sorrowful, almost regretful. There’s a pain to this song which echoes some of the hardest processes that come with mourning the loss of a loved one, and it brings greater substance to its more energetic companion piece, “The Weight of Heaven.” In some strange alchemy, hookiness and subtle bounce fit “The Weight of Heaven” like a glove, almost as if the upshot of weathering the storm is clarity, acceptance, even hope. And yet, existential uncertainty and an ominous foreshadowing persist as undercurrent through songs like “Algebra of Unknowing” and “Oar on the Mooring” to remind the listener that clarity, that acceptance, and that hope is fragile. To further personify this message, All Tomorrow’s Darkness glides gently through all of these movements with a floatiness that belies its forlorn, heavy heart.

As a result of such fluidity, my perception of All Tomorrow’s Darkness’ hour-long expanse warps and shrinks. This, in turn, makes what should be a difficult, emotionally taxing experience remarkably easy to revisit. Its accessibility granted by direct, uncomplicated songwriting also affords a certain approachability that helps open up a listener not only to receive something so deeply steeped in pain and anguish, but also to respond in sympathetic release. That same simple songwriting, while effective and inviting, also results in some lightly recycled instrumental ideas. Across All Tomorrow’s Darkness, melodies, rhythms, and pacing occasionally reach a level of homogeneity and eerie familiarity such that every now and again I lose my place. I imagine that this might be on purpose, perhaps to reinforce an impression of liminal space and limbo that often manifests in the grieving process. If so, I’m not certain that Liminal Sky’s songwriting scaffolded that concept—outside of standout examples in “In Some Secret Universe” and “Algebra of Unknowing”—well enough to have the desired effect. Instead, and especially after multiple spins, it negatively impacts recall and weakens the album’s memorability.

Liminal Sky rekindled something inside me that I had forgotten after years apart from this little corner of the post world. In spite of its slow and soft approach, All Tomorrow’s Darkness strikes the spirit with accuracy and emotional heft. What few minor songwriting weaknesses it displays on occasion constitute an easily overcome obstacle to my appreciation of the experience. If anything, those very flaws help showcase how well-conceived and thoughtfully executed Liminal Sky’s debut is everywhere else. Imperfect, but easy to listen to and devastating to hear, All Tomorrow’s Darkness bears the soul of its creators with a candid vulnerability worth taking to heart.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Karisma Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

HEXVESSEL (Finlàndia) presenta nou àlbum: "Nocturne" #Hexvessel #PsychedelicFolkRock #Atmospheric #PostBlack #DoomMetal #Juny2025 #Finlàndia #NouÀlbum #Metall #Metal #MúsicaMetal #MetalMusic

Hexvessel's new freezing single is the perfect antidote against the merciless heatwave over here...

#music #μουσική #ERisNowPlaying #newreleases2024 #hexvessel #songoftheday
https://invidious.materialio.us/watch?v=oFc-sz5TWvI

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#BraveWords
HEXVESSEL Sign With Prophecy Productions; Share New Track "Under The Lake"
Finnish black metal act

https://bravewords.com/news/hexvessel-sign-with-prophecy-productions-share-new-track-under-the-lake

#Hexvessel #ProphecyProductions #BlackDeath #FinnishBlackMetal

I was not alone for Midsummer.

It had been a hard year for many. Some had lost those dear, and others still had lost part of themselves. The abrasion of existence scratching away at the best of us, compelling cruelty and distrust through uncertain times. A common burden, one often and needlessly borne alone.

Thoughts of the one who first brought me to the mountain haunted my mind, and in recent months another had passed. The kind landlady with whom I had lodged in prior years, and last summer delivered flowers to. Although I regret not finding time to attend her grave; I gain solace knowing fellow lodgers laid a stone heart upon it on behalf of all to commemorate the sense of family we once shared.

But this was a new family now. A gathering of separate ways, archetypes all their own. A Pilgrim of Death returning to the mountain; an Empathic soul who had performed at past gatherings; and a Priestess new to the Alm. Strangers to one another, each sworn to fire. My duty to braid together these disparate beings by way of friendship and camaraderie. Seeking communication and concordance, learning how each speak so all may hear. The centre around which madness must dance.

There would be no masks in our covenant. No biting of tongue for the sake of convenience. Any natural friction discussed openly, and resolved in kindness.

By this simple rule, strangers soon became friends.

As we fortified ourselves to ascend on the Solstice morning, a funeral procession solemnly passed through the town square. Different from the pomp of prior years’ Corpus Christi, a single soul was memorialised by what seemed the entire town. The clink of cup and cutlery grew silent as they filed into the church, and tears flowed in empathy.

Gaining comfort from our cohort’s closeness, we made our way upwards. To reconnect, refocus, and for most, return. As is the way of things, our group dispersed to meet others. Yet amid the joyful jubilation of reacquaintance, there was a fresh coldness in some we met. An insatiety of spirit staunched by quick-fix distraction.

It felt different this year. Some fellow veterans were noted by their absence, and others seemed too far lost. A mosaic of once-kind faces in abstract. Serpents on the mountain. Had the purpose of the gathering changed, or had I?

Such troubled thoughts sought solace by the stage. The music was violent, intense, and dramatic as it should be. With much Black Metal on the bill, there would be no half-measure at the apex of nature. At times the clouds spoke in response, a drenching certainty which took even this veteran by surprise.

Respite from righteous fury, Hexvessel were a needed counterpoint to chaos. Before their set, I burned incense with other old friends in the crowd. Sharing truth and Samhain herbs prepared by the Moon Temple and saved for this moment. It would be a night to speak to the spirits.

I returned to my empathic friend, to relax in good company even as others shuffled to-and-fro. A song was announced in tribute to those departed, and we wept for the one who introduced us all those years ago. The same who first brought me here. We held each other so tightly and dearly as anguish cried for comfort. A moment of sincerity in an often superficial world.

All turned to fire, and as the ritual began I daubed my eyes with ash. An embodiment of sorrows unspoken. With the hill thankfully dry underfoot, I swiftly scaled upwards to the pyre. Circling as I do once flame took hold, meeting with friends and wishing them well with gifts of love and liquor. Prior concerns of coldness melted away by the warmth of belonging.

I found my dear friend once more and we hugged joyfully in the fire’s glow, anointed in oils of rebirth. Smiling, laughing, we saluted the sky in libation as grief took flight to flame. The Sorceress, I feel, would be proud of the close, sincere friendship that has burgeoned in her wake.

The others made their own way to the fire, and it is not my place to speak of what they discovered. But as my heart raised and my burdens dispersed into the black, I considered what each of us brought to our crazy, dysfunctional family. For all the frustrations and misunderstandings found in our covenant resonated with my deeper concerns; and spoke of another tacit, yet ever-present, companion.

Death walks her path in parallel, and does not contrive to convenience. One cannot predict her swathe, nor can we escape her inevitable embrace. We can and should be angry and frustrated by all of this, to regret the words unspoken and love unrequited as in politeness we bide time ’til tomorrow. All we can do in the now is be reminded that we are together, to sustain such love in the echo of memory. And simply, especially, to just let go.

The tears of the mountain fall, and splash the earth in renewal. A ground salted by insincerity and the dust of dreams forlorn.

Sparks of divinity. Fragments of an ideal. We may strive to be superluminal beings, but are still nonetheless human. Caked in the dirt and ash endemic of our nature. Scrabbling through the debris of fearful obligation, suffocating virtue in the rote whims of expectation. Staunched by stimuli we find ourselves lost and yearning. White light simulacra supplanting our essential truth.

Yet the mountain is bigger than any of us, and impassively wise to the wickedness of man. It weeps for the profane and the lost potential of what was, yet churns in timeless tectonic cycle. Spirits of countless ceremonies ascend and descend through the centuries; each carving their own path yet ever sanctifying the land.

And under the mountain’s eternal auspice, this house may yet become holy.

https://heathenstorm.com/2024/07/05/tears-of-the-mountain/

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Recent find: #Hexvessel

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Μεσημεριανές μουσικές για χαλάρωση και περισυλλογή. Από τα πιο όμορφα τραγούδια των Hexvessel νομίζω....

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